Chapter 21
McGregor rang the bell, and the men filed out bare-chested, with just their tartans tied around their waist in kilts and slung over their shoulders. They came in different colors, sizes, and shapes, but they all looked fit, their bodies honed into weapons, lean muscles with no fold in sight.
Ruaridh was in their midst, his dark hair tamed into a knot at the back of his head. He was smirking at Laird McLeannen, saying something she could not hear from a distance, but from the way the other man shouted back, she was willing to bet he was mocking him.
His competitive side was interesting to watch, and she was excited for it.
The bell rang, and the first man stepped forward.
He was a stout man called Dougal the Red, from Clan McCommirck.
He bent at the knee to take the caber and locked it to his chest before straightening to assume a wide-legged stance.
Then, with short, fast steps, he launched the wood forward amid a roar from the crowd.
Everyone watched with rapt attention as it flipped from end to end and landed perfectly on its wide end, eliciting a wild cry of joy from the crowd. One of three judges went to measure it.
Keira cheered, and when Violet turned to look at her father, he was engrossed in the game.
Seems that Sir Horace is starting to enjoy barbaric entertainment, she mused with a smile.
After a congratulatory thump on his back from the men, Dougal the Red stepped out of the waiting line. Then, it was Laird McLeannen’s turn.
The large man stepped forward, his steps heavy.
In terms of strength, one would think he would have no problem with the caber, but Violet knew better.
Caber toss depended more on technique than brute strength.
She had learned that watching Ruaridh practice.
One foot placed wrong, and the caber would roll on its merry way to failure.
Laird McLeannen stepped forward then, squatted to take the caber, but something about his balance was off, so he wobbled while rising, eliciting a worried sigh from the crowd. When he stood feet apart, everyone held their breath. Violet even felt her father shift in his seat.
He made the run, then launched the caber.
At the beginning, all went well. It flew once in the air, then landed on its side and rolled down to meet Dougal’s. A brief silence ensued, and the judges were shaking their heads, not bothering to stand up to check the distance.
They did not need to. Anyone familiar with this game already knew he would lose from the onset. His form was not great, and the wobbling did not allow him to place the caber properly. Even if he was given points for the distance, the caber landed wrongly, not very far from where he stood.
Looking in Ruaridh’s direction, Violet saw him pat McLeannen on the back in what was supposed to be consolation, but she also saw his lips twitch and knew he was mocking the man, who just waved him aside and exited the lineup.
She could not hold back a chuckle. Her fiancé was a menace.
Now it was his turn. He stepped forward, rolling and jumping onto the balls of his feet and stretching this way and that. While it was a way for him to warm up, she also knew he was doing it to annoy his competitors. She could see it in the way they studiously avoided looking at him.
McGregor rang the bell again, and Ruaridh stepped forward.
Violet found herself holding her breath.
He bent at the knee to take the caber, then rose smoothly like a dancer. At that moment, she appreciated the strength of his knees, the way he held the caber tightly. He held his legs wide apart, one in front of the other, then broke into a short run and launched the caber.
It flew in the air and flipped once, twice… and thrice before landing comfortably on the wider end.
The crowd broke into a roar.
“Papa!” Keira screamed in excitement, jumping up and down.
Violet could feel her cheeks aching from how hard she was smiling. Her father was clapping with a smile of admiration, and not a few McLeods came out to congratulate their Laird. McGregor had to ring the bell several times to get them to leave the arena, so the games could continue.
Once everyone was settled, the game continued, and with every throw, Violet held her breath in fear that they might do better than Ruaridh. But while many of them came close, no one was a match for him.
It was just as Keira had said; her father was the Highland caber toss champion, and he knew it, because he had spent the rest of the game speaking with McLeannen with no thought of watching the other players.
If that was not arrogance, Violet did not know what was.
Eventually, the head judge, a man from Clan McLeannen, stood to announce the results, declaring Ruaridh the winner. His clansmen immediately rushed to congratulate him, and Violet jumped with joy, hugging her father in excitement.
When she looked in his direction, Ruaridh was watching her despite the swarm of people around him. She mouthed, “Congratulations,” to him and blew him a kiss, which made a beaming smile curve his lips.
She looked around to make sure that nobody saw the exchange, but they were all too engrossed in celebrating the victory of their clan.
Except Keira saw her and was smiling triumphantly at her.
Violet could feel her face heat with embarrassment and wished that the ground would open and hide her from Keira’s knowing looks. Instead, she turned to her papa, who was still staring at McGregor as if he expected him to force him to carry the caber.
Taking pity on him, she bent to whisper, “It is a lie. No one would ask you to throw a caber.”
“But she said—”
“She was joking with you,” Violet cut in with a smile.
Her father turned to stare at Keira with a shocked look. But the girl couldn’t care less; she was already moving towards the arena to congratulate her father.
“How could she—?” he spluttered.
“Ye are very easy to deceive, Papa,” Violet chuckled. “Now, I have to go and change. I am up next for the hammer throw.”
She left without waiting to see whether he acknowledged her statement.
Inside the castle, she changed into a pair of breeches and a blouse, and gathered her hair into a bun at the back of her neck before stepping back out. She found Ruaridh outside the door, looking as delicious as ever, his skin shimmering with perspiration.
“I thought you would be at the arena. I am sure they are looking for you.”
“They can speak with me later. It is time for the next game. Are ye ready?”
“As ready as I can be,” she said with a sigh, tugging at her sleeve nervously.
“Ye ken, ye can stop now if ye daenae want to play.”
“And make all your efforts go to waste? No, I would not do that.”
“Well then, I will be there to guide ye. If ye need help.”
“Is that allowed?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“Perhaps nae, but they would make an exception for me,” he said with a cocky smirk.
“Well, congratulations once again,” she said, taking his proffered arm to return to the arena.
When they got there, many other women had already taken their places.
She immediately went to take her place, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Then the bell rang, and the game began.
The first woman gripped the hammer and let the head flip around her head before letting go. The hammer traveled a distance, spinning before it stopped. The crowd roared with joy.
Violet felt scared. While Ruaridh had provided a smaller hammer for her, she did not trust that she could spin it without taking her own head off. But she had vowed to participate, so she had to keep her promise.
The last week had been chaos, a mix of pain and happiness as Ruaridh trained Violet. It had been a bittersweet experience. On the one hand, he had an excuse to have her delectable body in his arms. On the other hand, he suffered as he fought to suppress his body’s response to hers.
On many occasions, he had felt the very strong urge to kiss her, except that with the desire that was flaring between them, he did not think he had the control to stop if he gave in.
So, he had come up with the idea to invite Sienna and Keira to serve as chaperones. Not that it helped much. At least their presence stopped him when the urge to make love to her became so unbearable that he shook with it.
But while it helped in the daytime, it did nothing for the sensual dreams he had of her, the ones that had him waking up in a pool of sweat and a raging erection, fighting hard to remind himself of the reasons why he could not creep into her room, seduce and take her until it soothed the ache in his loins.
Except that he knew that one night would not be enough. Touching her the last time had been a mistake that had become fuel for his fantasies. Making love to her would just make it that much more difficult to stay away from her.
So he did the next best thing: he trained every day until he neared exhaustion.
Everyone thought it was dedication to his craft, but he knew better. He was battling lust, plain and simple. At least, when he was so exhausted, he was more likely to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Eventually, the training has paid off with his performance in the caber toss, but even in the midst of the celebration, his eyes still sought her, wanted her to see him, to be proud of him. So when he saw her smiling widely at him and clapping excitedly, his happiness felt complete.
Now, he had to help her perform well, then they could call it a day, and he could go back to planning his wedding.
His wedding.
That was all that made this bearable. Soon, he would have this woman as his wife. She would be his to protect, his to love and make love to. He might finally be able to give in to the desires that rode him without mercy.
Violet took the hammer and widened her stance.
Good. She remembered their lessons. But her grip on the hammer was too tight, so he stepped forward, his arms guiding her.