There was a loud round of applause as Angus stood up and walked over. He was smiling broadly but when he walked it looked as if he was still hurting. He bowed his head as the small iron medal was placed round his neck. He made a show of kissing it and held it up to the crowd. Then he looked in my direction and winked.
‘Our second runner up is Tipsania Scrymgeour!’ Carnegie declared.
Tipsania got to her feet far more stiffly than Angus and walked up to Carnegie. She’d gone all out with her outfit: it was a glittering dress which I could swear was made out of diamonds. There was nothing like flaunting your wealth in front of the great and the good. Now the Games were over, I wondered if she’d notice if I helped myself to a few of those sparkly jewels. It would be minor compensation for what I’d gone through, if nothing else.
Tipsania’s medal was bronze. Although she held it up in a similar manner to Angus, her lip curled slightly as she touched it and I grinned. I guessed she wasn’t used to such ordinary metals.
‘Our first runner up is…’ the MC paused, not for dramatic effect but because he felt disgusted by my name on his lips. My smile grew. He still had to say it. ‘Integrity Adair.’
The noise from the crowd was remarkably pleasing. Not everyone clapped and many had glowering expressions and folded arms. But I’d won over enough people that there weren’t tumbleweeds blowing across the stage. That was enough for me.
I strolled to the front and made a sweeping bow. I wouldn’t let anyone see that I was disappointed at not winning. I turned round and Carnegie gazed sourly at me as I bowed my head. He managed to drop the medal round my neck without brushing my skin. I wondered if he’d practised that move beforehand.
The drum roll started up once more and lights danced across the stage, finally stopping in a circle round Byron. Rather than looking happy, he looked uncomfortable.
‘And the winner of the 2016 Sidhe Highland Games is Byron Moncrieffe!’
Naturally the applause for Byron was the loudest and it seemed as if the very walls of the auditorium rocked. There was a large group of girls – and older women – who screamed his name and flashed considerable cleavage. I shot a sidelong look at Tipsania but she was staring ahead, not looking at the supposed love of her life. I couldn’t work out why she wasn’t happier. She hadn’t won, and she’d still have to navigate the minefield of dealing with her relationship with a Wild Man, but Byron was about to release both of them from their awkward charade. That could only be a good thing, right?
Byron strode forward, his discomfort unable to disguise his confident, sexy, swagger. There were more girlish screams but he didn’t pause to acknowledge the crowd. He simply walked up to the Carnegie MC and shook his hand. He wasn’t even smiling.
‘Byron Moncrieffe,’ Carnegie purred, thrusting the microphone in his direction. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Fabulous.’
He didn’t look as if he felt fabulous. His mouth was pressed in a grim line. My skin buzzed with Kirsty Kincaid’s stolen Gift as I recognised the lie. Going by Byron’s expression, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he punched Carnegie rather than shaking his hand. Maybe it was supposed to be Sidhe stoicism in the face of victory, another one of those damned honour ideals which had about as much substance as an eyelash in a hurricane.
Carnegie picked up the winner’s gold medal and it caught the light, glittering and twinkling as it spun. I felt a moment of bitter regret that I quickly quashed. Byron deserved this moment, much as it galled me to admit it; when it really counted, he’d been better than me.
He bowed his head, permitting Carnegie to drop the medal over his head. Byron’s hand briefly touched the metal disk then he turned to face his adoring public. The roar of cheers was extraordinary.
After what felt like minutes, the MC gestured to the audience to be silent. Even then it took some time for everyone to settle down.
‘As we all know,’ he intoned dramatically, ‘the winner of the Games is permitted to ask for any prize. If it is within the power of the Chieftains to grant it, then grant it they shall.’ He gave a small smile. ‘In fact, there has only been one occasion in the Games’ five-hundred-year history when the requested prize was not given – and that was for a unicorn’s horn.’
There was an appreciative titter from the crowd. I glanced at Tipsania. Her shoulders were slumped; maybe her dalliance with Candy was nothing more than a way to pass the time. Perhaps she really did want Byron after all.
‘Byron Moncrieffe,’ Campbell continued. ‘What do you request?’
Byron’s emerald eyes momentarily caught mine. It was a fleeting look, so swift I wasn’t even sure if it had happened. He swallowed once, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. I looked away, searching for my friends. The others were watching Byron but Taylor was looking at me. He gave me a bright smile and a thumbs up. I smiled back.
‘I would like,’ Byron said, ‘for the Adair lands to be returned to their Clan daughter.’ My head whipped round and my jaw dropped open. He looked at me. ‘Integrity Adair.’
I stared at him, shock holding me rigid. His expression didn’t flicker.
Carnegie was a different matter, however. He could have caught a swarm of dragonflies with his mouth. ‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’
‘Yes.’
‘But…’
Byron turned to him. ‘It’s my prize to claim,’ he said evenly, ‘and I have made my request.’
Campbell turned to the Chieftains. In theory I should be with them but I was glad that I wasn’t. I didn’t need to be beside them to know what some of them were saying; the sparks of anger in their eyes were enough.
Returning my lands was something which would cost the other Clans nothing in in terms of money. There were more than few muttered whispers indicating that they were calculating the risks but, with so many eyes watching, they couldn’t deny Byron. He knew it, I knew it and everyone else knew it too.
When Aifric got to his feet, he didn’t glance at his son as he addressed the crowd stiffly. ‘The Chieftains grant Byron Moncrieffe this prize,’ he said. He bowed once as everyone roared in approval.
I turned to Byron but he resolutely avoided my gaze. He folded his arms across his chest and nodded at Carnegie.
‘In that case,’ the MC boomed, ‘I declare these Games over!’
The audience rose to their feet. Everyone was yelling and clapping but Byron was already striding back off the stage. I stood up hastily, pushed back my chair and ran after him.
I spun past Carnegie, who hissed something under his breath. I didn’t pay any attention to him, he wasn’t important.
‘Byron!’ I called. He kept walking, not even turning his head to acknowledge me. I caught up with him and grabbed his arm. I could feel his muscles under my fingers.
‘You got what you wanted, Integrity,’ he said, without looking at me. ‘Be happy.’
‘But…’ I gasped, shaking my head in confusion, ‘but why?’
A muscle worked in his jaw. ‘Because it was the right thing to do.’ He wrenched his arm away from me.
‘Your Clan. The money you need…’
His head turned and his eyes met mine for a second. ‘There’s always another way.’ His mouth tugged up at the corner. ‘Right?’
I licked my lips. ‘Right.’ His words didn’t alter my disbelief. ‘Uh, thank you. Thank you so much.’
He looked as if he wanted to say something else.
‘Byron!’ Aifric was standing at the end of the corridor. I shivered involuntarily. ‘This doesn’t concern you, Miss Adair,’ he said. ‘I would like to talk to my son.’
Irritation flooded me; he had the knack of showing up at the worst possible moments. Why couldn’t Byron see the truth about his father?
‘Go, Integrity,’ Byron muttered.
I gritted my teeth then nodded. ‘Fine. I’ll leave you in peace.’ I flicked a look at Aifric. ‘There’s just one thing though, Steward.’
He glanced at me. ‘Yes?�
��
‘It’s Chieftain Adair.’
And then I smiled.
Thank you so much for reading Honour Bound! I really hope you enjoyed it. It would mean a huge amount if you could leave a review – any and all feedback is so very, very welcome and hugely important for independent authors like myself.
Find out more about me and my books, as well as the chance to sign up for my newsletter at http://helenharper.co.uk
The third book in the Highland Magic series, Veiled Threat, will be released on May 29th, 2016.
About the Author
After teaching English literature in the UK, Japan and Malaysia, Helen Harper left behind the world of education following the worldwide success of her Blood Destiny series of books. She is a professional member of the Alliance of Independent Authors and writes full time although she still fits in creative writing workshops with schools along with volunteering to teach reading to a group of young Myanmar refugees. That’s not to mention the procession of stray cats which seem to find their way to her door!
Helen has always been a book lover, devouring science fiction and fantasy tales when she was a child growing up in Scotland.
Helen currently lives in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia with far too many cats – not to mention the dragons, fairies, demons, wizards and vampires that seem to keep appearing from nowhere.
Other titles by Helen Harper
The Blood Destiny series
Bloodfire
Bloodmagic
Bloodrage
Blood Politics
Bloodlust
Blood Destiny Box Set (The complete series: Books 1 – 5)
Also
- Corrigan Fire
- Corrigan Magic
- Corrigan Rage
- Corrigan Politics
- Corrigan Lust
The Olympiana series
Eros
Lyre
The Bo Blackman series
Dire Straits
New Order
High Stakes
Red Angel
Vigilante Vampire
The Dreamweaver series
Night Shade
Night Terrors
Honour Bound (Highland Magic Book 2) Page 26