hips and offered a cocky grin. âTwice.â
âIn one night?â Galenâs tone was a challenge, and Trevorâs expression fell.
âNae. All right. How about Irene? The butcherâs daughter.â
âAh. A fine lass.â Galen winked. âQuite a handful.â
Trevor held out his hands in a cupping motion. âEspecially from behind.â
Lanaâs face burned as she realized exactly what they were discussing. She should probably make herself known before the conversation got truly salacious. But as she made to stand, Trevorâs next words froze her in place.
âAnd Lana Dounreay?â
Galenâs features pinched and his lips curled in what she could only interpret as disdain. The sight of it made her belly tighten. She eased back down, but didnât look away. Couldnât.
âThe baronessâs sister?â
Och, she didnât like his tone. Incredulity was hardly warranted.
âSheâs a pretty thing,â Trevor offered, but there was a hint of mockery in the words. It made the little hairs on Lanaâs nape stand up.
âAye.â Galen picked up a brush and began to curry his mount.
âPrettier than all the others combined.â
âAye.â He grimaced. âBut she is the lairdâs ward.â
Trevor chuckled. The sound skittered through the room. âWhen has something like that stopped you from pursuing a pretty lass?â He slapped his friend on the shoulder. âCome on, man. Why do you noâ admit the truth?â
Lanaâs fingers closed tightly on the slats. She leaned forward even more.
âWhat truth is that?â Galen had stopped brushing to glare at his friend.
âShe frightens you.â
Ah. The pain.
It was a silly pain, because she knew. She knew what people thought of her. Still, it was difficult to hear.
âIâm noâ afraid of anything. Much less a wee lassie.â The brushing resumed, with a vigor so robust, the mount shuffled restlessly.
âExcellent.â Trevor rubbed his hands together. âThen I dare you to seduce her.â
A flush crept up Galenâs cheeks. He tossed the curry brush onto the bench and snarled, âI am noâ seducing the lairdâs ward.â
âBah. We both know thatâs not the reason ye doona want to seduce the witch.â
The witch.
The word resounded in her brain. Bile crept up the back of her throat, and she swallowed it down. This wasnât the first time sheâd been called such. Certainly not the first hint that her gift was the reason men reviled her company. But it still hurt.
âTrevor, leave off.â
âYeâve seduced almost every lass in the keep. Hell, youâve nearly surpassed the Silver Fox himself. Whatâs one more conquest? And sheâs such a pretty thing. With that angelic face, those devilish curves. Tell me you doona wantââ
âI said leave off,â Galen snapped. Lana was filled with gratitude that he seemed to be defending her, but it deflated at his next words. âThe woman is touched. Demented. No man in his right mind would go near her. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it.â
Ah.
Aye.
The truth at last.
Lana wasnât sure if she should give in to her anger or despair. Both warred within her. But she did know she could take no more of this conversation. Not a moment more. Without hesitation, she tossed the rest of the scraps to the dogs and stood, brushing the hay from her skirts. Then she pushed open the stall door and faced the two men.
Galen, to his credit, flushed. His lips worked and his Adamâs apple bobbed. Trevor merely gaped at her.
It was, indeed, an awkward moment.
For them.
Lana knew she could make it worse. She knew she could tell Galen that his dead mother despaired he would never settle down, or she could warn Trevor that in his assignation last night he might have contracted the pox, but she did not.
She leveled