Page 15 of The Highlander’s Fake Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #4)

A light drizzle took the next morning, and Olivia woke to the soft pitter of rain against the castle walls. Breakfast was much the same, with Flora quietly reading her book amidst a massive spread of food.

This time, Maesie sleepily stretched out beneath her chair, having half a chewed sausage between her paws as she took her time to savor each bite. Olivia offered a quick ‘good morning’ before snagging an oatcake and heading for the back entrance.

“Where are ye off to in such a hurry?” Flora inquired.

“Yer brother–ah, Laird MacDonnall,” Olivia corrected herself. “He wanted to show me something at the training grounds.

“In this weather?” Elspeth appeared from one of the main door frames, brow creased with worry. “Ye two’ll catch yer death out there!”

“I’m a selkie, remember?” Olivia teased. “We quite like the rain. And it’s only a wee drizzle; if it gets any worse, I’ll insist we come in.”

Elspeth didn’t look entirely convinced, but she also seemed to realize Olivia wouldn’t change her mind. “Well, at least take yer arisaid wit ye. It’ll help keep ye dry.”

“‘Tis been fixed?” Olivia asked, excitement edging into her voice.

Elspeth pulled her arms out from behind her back, presenting the cloth now newly-sewn back together. “I couldnae get the color exactly right,” she apologized, and Olivia did indeed notice the shade was noticeably off from the original.

“Ye had a hand in fixing it, yer lady--ah, M-Mam?” Olivia blinked, unable to stop herself from embracing the laird’s mother completely. “Thank ye so much! This–it was something me maither and I sewed together, and…” she stopped, unable to speak past the lump in her throat any further.

“Never mind all that, sweetness.” Elspeth carefully draped the arisaid against Olivia’s shoulders, tucking and folding the cloth until it draped beautifully against her as a makeshift cape.

“Just promise me to let me talk yer maither’s ear off when she arrives.

Her stitchwork’s quite impressive; I need to ken how she does it! ”

The thought eased some of Olivia’s anxiety, and with another goodbye spoken between the three women, she set out towards the back of the castle, a bit more eager now to see what Arthur had planned for her.

The drizzle was no match for her arisaid, and Olivia was grateful Elspeth had insisted she’d taken it.

An occasional bitter breeze rolled off the ocean waves and drifted about her, and the warm cloth did wonders for keeping it at bay.

Eventually, she caught sight of Arthur over the hill, swinging a sword against a straw-filled dummy.

Its head flew from its body in one swing, hay dancing in the air before the aforementioned head rolled into Olivia, bumping her leg gently.

“Sorry, selkie!” Arthur sheathed his sword, shaking his own cloak free of raindrops as he moved to close the distance between them.

Olivia’s face heated against the cool air, and she was certain it looked as red as her hair as the laird approached.

He moved like she imagined water would if personified; smoothly, with a weight and purpose behind every step he took.

Like a river, knowing full well it would one day return to the sea.

Like how certain Arthur was that he would die for his…

“Ye alright there, Olivia?”

She blinked, furiously wiping her face from stray specks of rain. “A-Aye! Sorry, I…was distracted.”

Arthur raised a brow, a smirk working its way across his face. “Were ye, now?”

Her face flushed further, gaze flittering about for a doable excuse. “I noticed the bow over there, ye spraggin’ eejit.” She crossed her arms, posture settling on one hip as she managed the most deadpan expression she could manage. “Ye’re not as mesmerisin’ as ye think, m’laird.”

Arthur clutched his chin, sighing painfully. “Aye–the barbs, Olivia. An’ so early in the morning–give me a chance, wee sea goddess!”

The ‘goddess’ comment took her slightly by surprise. It was the same thing Nathan had called Flora yesterday evening, and now…and Arthur had genuinely…?

“But, I hope I can earn yer favor back through actions,” Arthur continued, seemingly unaware Olivia hand tuned him out for a few moments. “Go an’ snag that bow there, would ye?”

Olivia stood in place, still somewhat dazed.

“Aye, unless ye’ve forgotten how to hold one?” Arthur teased.

That snapped Olivia out of her stupor immediately.

“I–I remember, I remember!” She let out an annoyed huff, crossing past the laird before taking the bow off of the weapon’s shelf.

It had an impressive level of craftsmanship, the wood smoothed and lovingly tended to ensure longevity while its lightweight frame made it easy to carry.

She holstered it around her chest, startled at a high-pitched whistle emitting from the laird.

Before a curse could slip out, a pair of powerful stallions came bounding up the hill; a burly palomino and a sleek, silver dapple .

“Which do ye prefer?” Arthur asked, clearly pleased he’d brought out such a surprised reaction.

Olivia ignored his smug demeanor and immediately gravitated towards the dapple stallion. His ears twitched curiously, giving a gentle snort as she set her hands gently against his snout. “He’s so handsome,” she gasped. “As if he’d been made from starlight itself.”

Arthur chuckled lightly, stroking his beard as he spoke. “‘Tis exactly how Flora described it. Reminds me a bit of a seal, mehself.”

“Aye, but I would hazard quite a few things remind ye of seals,” Olivia teased. Though quietly to herself, she could absolutely see the resemblance between the two beasts.

“Ye’ll ride Airgiod, then, and I’ll wrestle wit òr.”

Olivia’s brow rose slightly. “Yah called ‘em, ‘Silver and ‘Gold’?”

“Daenae make fun of it,” Arthur warned teasingly. “Flora was only a wee bairn when she got to name ‘em.”

“And yet, she came up with Maesie?”

“Nay; that was me.”

Olivia blinked, uncertain as to why that was such a surprise to her. Suppose I never saw the Laird o’Murder as someone who chose names well , she thought to herself.

Arthur stepped towards Olivia, but paused, taking great effort to show him tucking his hands behind his back.

“Och, nay; yer so dramatic, ye know that?” Olivia did her best not to smile at his antics, gesturing him closer as she grasped Airgiod’s reigns. “Ye’re allowed to help me up on to me horse.”

“Ye were very clear about this rule,” Arthur insisted, dramatically waving a hand as if giving a grand soliloquy. “I would act like a perfect gentleman, touch nae a single hair on ye head without yer express permission.”

“Ye already touched me hair without–!” A startled squeal slipped out of Olivia as Arthur’s hands easily fit around her waist, hoisting her up onto the saddle without so much as a labored breath.

Her legs squeezed tightly around her stallion’s side, though it wasn’t in an attempt to keep her balance atop the beast.

“I did, aye,” Arthur admitted. “Though I didnae hear yer objection over the matter.”

Hot. Could a face truly, naturally, get this hot?

! Olivia shook her head, tugging at her reins as she tested Airgiod’s temperament.

The stallion was incredibly reactive, following each tug of direction and hardly offering any resistance in return.

She couldn’t help but be impressed. “Are all MacDonnall animals so well trained?”

“Nathan insists on it,” Arthur beamed, urging his own stallion forward to saddle up beside Olivia’s. It took the palomino to consider the request, though with a sharp jab of the laird’s heel, the stubborn beast eventually trotted forward, joining beside Olivia so the pair could talk face-to-face.

“Well,” Olivia teased. “I supposed most o’ the animals are well-trained. Ye teach him that stubborn streak yerself?”

Arthur laughed dryly, his stallion pawing impatiently at the ground. “Very funny. òr’s just competitive, ‘specially wit Airgiod. So, if yer startin’ to lag behind, I’ll make sure to–!” Now it was the laird’s turn to sputter as Olivia snapped her reins and suddenly took off down the hill.

“Aye! I’ll be sure to turn around fer ye if ye get to far behind!” she called behind her, a maniacal cackling following soon after.

Perhaps not her most ladylike moment, she admitted to herself, but it was the first time she genuinely felt free since her father and brother passed on.

The gloom that hung over her kinsfolk, the expectations of finding a husband and birthing a replacement heir, the empty look in her mother’s eye when her own clan tried to break down their castle doors…

It all flew into the wind behind her, and Olivia would be damned to appear ladylike for the sake of anyone else’s comfort.

Yes, Olivia MacLarsen hardly looked the part of a laird’s wife-to-be.

But Arthur was determined to catch her regardless, blood ablaze as he urged his stallion onward.

The pair had long-since raced through the keep and out across the natural bridge, Olivia stubbornly keeping a comfortable lead the entire time.

That soon changed once she reached the edge, still unfamiliar with the exact path to take in order to reach the beach below them. That’s when Arthur overtook her, galloping down the slopes and grinning like a fiend at her enraged outcry.

It didn’t take long for her to catch up, and soon, the pair were neck-and-neck, sand kicking behind the heels of their horses.

The salty air pulled and whipped Olivia’s hair like satin ribbons, the spray of ocean water as hooves struck against the shoreline dazzling like precious diamonds around her.

The confidence she held in her posture, the brilliant smile on her face, the way her legs squeezed the horse’s side and accented her curves–Arthur swore aloud, barely able to contain himself.