To recap, Duncan and Methos have a bet that Methos can get Triona to forgive him before the day ends. At stake are two fine bottles of single malt scotch, not to mention Methos' connubial bliss.
The three prior installments: Amongst the Stars, Make That Two Bottles, and To the Victor Go the Spoils.
“I don’t blame you one bit, Triona! You have every right to be angry!”
“Thank you, Duncan, I knew you’d understand.”
“Don’t let him charm his way out of this one,” Duncan advised. “He’s the one in the wrong – don’t forget that.”
“I won’t, don’t worry!” She stabbed at the sausage on her plate ferociously. “Believe me, I won’t.”
Methos glared over the back of Triona’s head at Duncan as he approached the table where the two sat eating breakfast in the dining hall.
The other man ignored him, patting Triona’s hand comfortingly. “Speak of the devil,” he said with a note of smugness. She stabbed at her sausage again.
Dropping a kiss on the top of his wife’s head, Methos put his tray on the table, sitting in the empty chair next to Triona’s. “Mind if I join you?” he asked brightly, deciding to ignore for now both her bad mood and the breakfast meat she seemed intent on brutalizing.
“Be my guest,” she replied frostily, pointedly standing up as he sat down. “I’m done.” Picking up her tray, she whirled, practically stalking out of the dining hall.
He didn’t try to stop her, deciding that right now, discretion was indeed the better part of valour.
Instead, he turned his attention to his current nemesis. “Just what the hell do you think you’re playing at, MacLeod?” Methos exploded.
Duncan seemed unperturbed at the man’s obvious anger, continuing to sip his coffee. Then he replied, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t know…!” he sputtered. “‘You have every right to be angry’, ‘he’s the one in the wrong’, does that ring any bells?”
“Well, she does and you are,” he pointed out, clearly enjoying himself.
“That is beside the point!” His voice rose a notch. “You have a stake in this, so you shouldn’t be tainting the outcome!”
“Says who? You’re going to do everything you can to win, and so am I.”
Methos narrowed his eyes. “And how do you think she’d feel if she knew about our little wager? That you were the one to propose it in fact?”
He seemed totally unconcerned. “She’d forgive me faster than she would you – she’d have two things to be angry at you over then, instead of just the one.” Duncan grinned at Methos smugly, knowing he’d scored a point. “I’m winning this one, old man.”
“You think so, do you?”
Whatever Duncan would have said in response was interrupted by a new arrival at the table. “I think so too,” Connor MacLeod told them affably. “That girl learned stubbornness at her Scots granny’s knee. She comes by it honestly.” He sat in the chair Triona had vacated earlier. “That, and she’s a woman,” he added, shrugging his shoulders.
Methos shot Duncan an accusing glare. “You told him?” he bit out.
“I may have mentioned something in passing,” Duncan admitted. Connor just smiled, enjoying his breakfast and the entertainment that came with it.
“Oh, this is just great!” Methos said in disgust. “You are unbelievable, do you know that? He--” he pointed one accusatory finger at Connor “--will be selling tickets to the entire colony by the time the morning is out!” Covering his face with his hands, he muttered, “I should just confess now, otherwise she’ll never forgive me.”
“So how many of your previous wives tried to murder you in your sleep?” Connor asked blandly, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter.
“You are so funny!” Methos told him sarcastically.
“Calm down!” Duncan admonished. “Connor isn’t going to tell anyone else – he just wanted in on the wager.”
Methos slumped in his chair, scrubbing at his hair in irritation. “Oh, this is going to be good,” he sniped, slumping even farther.
“There’s no question you’re going to lose,” Connor told the older Immortal. “It’s just a matter of degree. Now Duncan here, he has much more confidence in your ability to wheedle your way back into Triona’s affections than I do.”
“So we have a small side wager on just how long it will take you to get back into her good graces,” Duncan finished.
“And maybe you should consider a wager on just how long it’s going to be before you’re back in my good graces after this, Mac!” Only the fact they were in a public kept place kept Methos from shouting.
Duncan just laughed. “Oh, I’d say about as long as it took me after you shot me in the back.”