Adwen loved the look of confusion on Orick’s face. “If I am able to bed a lass in each territory and return proof to Griffith that I did so, then he will return to the castle in five years to serve as laird in my stead so that I may begin my own travels once again.”
“Ye have spent yer whole life travelling throughout the world. Is no part of ye ready to settle in one place for awhile?”
The very thought made his chest heavy. “No at all.”
“And just how are ye supposed to prove such a thing to yer brother?”
Adwen reached behind him, grasping on to the leather bag carrying the precious trinkets that would buy him his eventual freedom, tossing it in Orick’s direction.
“Here. Look inside.”
Adwen watched as Orick took in the hair ribbons, the small pieces of dresses, the few handkerchiefs, even a lock of hair or two, each not only given but signed by their owner.
“Do ye mean to tell me that ye dinna steal these things from the lassies? That they each gave these, uh tokens, to ye willingly?”
He couldn’t help but smile at the twisted sense of pride that surged through him thinking back on his conquests. “Aye, every one. Told them I wished to have something to remember them by. They all seemed to believe it well enough.”
Orick chuckled in that same deep, baritone laugh that echoed through the chilly air. “I’ve finally made sense of it. ’Tis no that ye possess any great skill in wooing the lassies at all. ’Tis only that ye are verra skilled at picking out the lassies with the least amount of intelligence in a room.”
Adwen didn’t appreciate that idea whatsoever, although he couldn’t deny that he found most of the women he bedded to be dull and foolish, incapable of real conversation—not that he had any interest in conversing with those who joined him in bed. “Ye offend me, Orick. I’ll no accept any part of what ye just said.”
“I doona care if I offend ye. ’Tis true enough, I can see that now. No lassie with a mind smarter than that of a sheep would let ye into her bed and then cut off a piece of her hair to send it with ye for remembrance.”
The distance to the castle seemed to grow longer as Orick’s comments continued. His words filled him with self-doubt, an emotion he’d rarely experienced throughout his privileged life.
“Enough, Orick. I doona wish to hear another word from ye. At the evening’s end, we will travel to the inn. Ye can judge for yerself whether it be the lass’ stupidity or my charms that lure her into my bed.”
“Thank ye, but ’tis no something I wish to witness. Are ye sure ye wish to go to the inn, though? I believe ye might have better luck elsewhere.”
Orick’s jests angered him. He’d grown accustomed to his remarks over the years, their relationship one based more on friendship than service.
“Just what do ye mean, Orick? Ye are fair close to taking this too far, friend.”
“I only mean that while the lass looked crazy enough, with her dancing and the broomstick, she dinna look like the kind of lass to be taken advantage of.”
He could no longer feel the cold with the way his neck grew hot in response to Orick’s suggestion. “Advantage? I doona take advantage of anyone, Orick. They leave my side satisfied and happy with never a complaint to be had.”
“How would ye know? ’Tis no as if ye stay around long enough to hear them. The lass we saw through the window had a spark in her eye that I canna imagine most of them have possessed. If ye wish to win the wager, find yerself someone who appears a little less happy when she’s all alone, aye? Someone who appears in need of companionship.”
Adwen exhaled as they approached the pond leading to McMillan Castle. Finally, they were close enough that he could rid himself of Orick’s nagging presence for a while.
He pulled his horse to a stop, dismounting as he strode toward the entrance, leaving Orick to see to the horses as he spoke over his shoulder in order to get in the last word.
“If I wished to find a lass who needed companionship, I would surely ask ye to seek her out for me. Ye should know the look of one.”
His words were harsh. Guilt immediately stung at Adwen, but he placed it into the back of his mind. Orick had been brutally honest with him as well, as per usual, and they would find out which one of them was right soon enough.
CHAPTER 8
If not for the one dirty and exhausted traveler who stopped in for an early dinner before continuing on his way, there’d have been no real reason for me to stay and watch things while Gregor and Isobel were away. Still, I gave them my word, so I busied myself through the duration of the evening by trying, rather unsuccessfully, to improve my bread baking skills.