The Stone of Destiny by Caroline Logan

Author:Caroline Logan [Logan, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Scotland, fantasy, romance, young adult, ya, legends, epic, myths
ISBN: 9781911279501
Publisher: Gob Stopper
Published: 2019-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 37

“I like it.” Ailsa twirled slowly in her borrowed dress, giving Flora a better view.

From over in the corner, Angus lifted his head from examining a fiddle the band had left and gave her a nod. “You look lovely.”

“Pfft.” Harris’s lips curled. He lounged on a plump chair beside the main fireplace, one leg thrown over the arm, chewing on a chicken leg. A spread had been laid out for the guests and he’d promptly plundered it. He gnawed on the meat aggressively, throwing glares at everyone in the room. It seemed he hadn’t slept well the night before, having to share a room with a sleep-talking band member. Harris had become even more sulky when Angus had mentioned to Ailsa that there would be plenty of young men at the ceilidh, suggesting they ‘help each other.’

“What is your problem?” Ailsa stopped her spinning and stuck her hip out. His eyes followed the movement before rolling towards the ceiling.

“I just don’t think the dress suits you.”

“Why not? It’s nice.” The gown she’d borrowed was crisp and white, with delicate sleeves that floated around her arms and fluttered when she spun. The skirt began just under her bust, fanning out in a tumble of lace, barely brushing the floor so she was free to dance. Flora had also given her a pair of slippers which were slightly too small.

“You look too—” His lip curled as he tried to find the right word. “Pure,” he finally grumbled.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Her voice rose an octave and she bit the inside of her cheek in frustration. Is he trying to pick a fight?

“I don’t know,” he answered, glowering. “Maybe I’m too used to you looking murderous. I think I prefer that, actually.”

“Enough,” Angus chided. “Ailsa, you look wonderful. Tell him to go boil his heid.” The prince beamed, happy with his impression of a common accent.

“Fine. I’m taking this,” Harris stood, snatching another chicken leg, “And this.” He grabbed his tankard of ale. “I’m going to get ready.”

“Don’t bother coming back till you’ve cheered up.” Ailsa yelled after him as he stomped up the stairs.

“Men,” chuckled Angus, “I’ll never understand them.”

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