Free A Love for Rebecca by Mayte Uceda Page B

couldn’t come,” Lola said, excitement growing in her.
    At five o’clock the place was already lively, full of people getting food and drinks from vendors and mobile bars scattered around. Numerous women were wearing Celtic dresses like theirs, and many of the men were sporting kilts.
    Lola held tightly to her Scot’s arm and walked proudly at his side, forgetting occasionally about Rebecca. Rory was more considerate; he didn’t want Rebecca to feel like a third wheel, so he switched sides with Lola, placing himself between the two women—which provoked mild grumbling from his date.
    They made their way through craft and souvenir booths and past games of chance. Musicians and jugglers mingled among the crowd.
    Lola paused to take in the colorful tartan clothing and jewelry at a stand providing information on Scottish clans. “Which clan do you belong to?” she asked Rory. “Is there an Elliot clan?”
    “Yes, indeed. It was a very active and powerful clan in its day.”
    Rory examined a display of insignias and brooches pinned on a piece of tartan. Finding the one he was looking for, he paid for it, kissed it, and pinned it on Lola’s bodice, over her heart.
    “What is it?” she asked.
    “The symbol of Clan Elliot.”
    “It’s beautiful,” she said, moved by the gesture. “Thank you.”
    The silver-plated pin was shaped like a buckled belt. In the center was a hand wielding a sword. Along the curve of the belt were three words in Latin: “Fortiter et Recte.”
    “See,” he said. “It’s the same symbol I’m wearing. ‘With Strength and Rectitude.’ ”
    Lola looked at the shiny buckle that adorned his belt and recognized the design on the pin. She was so thrilled she couldn’t hold back the desire to kiss him.

    The look Rory and Lola exchanged left Rebecca feeling flustered by the intimacy they exuded. She’d never looked at Mario that way, nor had he ever wrapped her in a look of intense desire the way Rory did Lola.
    It was as if a small, hidden voice inside her was finally allowed to speak, softly and timidly. She felt a wave of goose bumps, but the sound of approaching music interrupted her thoughts.
    It was the town’s bagpipe group, officially inaugurating the festival with a parade that would end in the center of the festival grounds. They played well-known songs like “Scotland the Brave” and “Amazing Grace.”
    Other bands would begin playing soon. People pressed around the stage, wanting the show to begin. Already, some revelers in the crowd were showing signs of intoxication. Luckily, Rory had to deal with only a couple of the guys staggering around who took unwarranted notice of the buxom Rebecca. And fortunately for Rebecca, their hands never reached her.
    The bands took turns on stage. To the foreigners, they all blended together, playing similar instruments and dressed in traditional Highland clothing.
    As the evening wore on, the crowd in front of the stage dwindled as people left to hit the food stands again or simply from boredom. The girls and Rory were grateful to move about more freely, without getting bumped or splashed with beer.
    Rebecca wondered where Sophie was. She’d been keeping an eye on the area next to the stage where the musicians gathered but hadn’t been able to pick out Sophie’s stunning red mane. Rory informed them that her group would play last, a privilege regularly reserved for a local band.
    It had gotten dark when Rebecca felt someone grab her arm. Rory had gone to get drinks, and she and Lola were dancing in the small gaps of space around them. She turned and found Sophie smiling at her.
    “You came!” Sophie exclaimed, raising her voice to be heard over the earsplitting bagpipe band on stage.
    Rebecca checked out Sophie’s look: a long tartan skirt of red and green plaid and a black vest over a white blouse. Around her neck, a silver chain with a Celtic symbol.
    “We want to see you play.”
    “We’ll be on shortly, after everyone else