they all wanted someone from the Rivenloch clan to win the day.
“He might be good,” Helena snorted. “But did you see what he did to poor Sir Rauve? I’d like to wipe that cocky smirk off the lout’s face.”
“What face?” Deirdre said. “He hasn’t shown his face all day.”
Hallie broke in, eager to steer the conversation to other fighters. “The Sparrow seems dangerous.”
“Aye,” Deirdre agreed. “I suspect ’tis a woman.”
“Do you think?” Helena asked.
“Small, fast, clever,” Deirdre said. “Took Feiyan completely by surprise.”
Hallie nodded. It was hard to take Feiyan by surprise.
“And what about the Frenchman?” Helena asked.
“De Ware?” Hallie said. “I’d like to fight him.” The de Wares had almost as much notoriety in France as the Rivenlochs had in Scotland. It would be satisfying to defeat him.
In the following rounds, however, it was Helena who was paired with Sir Evrard de Ware, who unfortunately sent both her sword and shield flying.
Deirdre defeated The Sparrow, making sure afterwards to praise the knight’s great bravery and skill. There weren’t many lasses with the courage to take up the sword, and this one was worthy of respect.
The Sable Knight trounced the Flemish Sir Guillaume, cutting short the man’s flashy and flamboyant maneuvering with blunt force.
And with a distracting swipe of her shield and a strategic sweep of her sword, Hallie eliminated the last of the mac Giric warriors left in the tournament.
None of the finalists spoke during the next break. Now every warrior was truly on their own. No one could predict which of the four would be pitted against whom.
Hallie hoped she wouldn’t have to fight her mother. Though Hallie was younger and stronger, her mother could read her like a seer and anticipate her every move.
But the first two names Isabel drew were Hallie of Rivenloch and Sir Evrard de Ware, which pleased Hallie greatly. She wouldn’t mind putting the knight in his place after the drubbing he’d given her Aunt Helena.
It was easy to say. Not as easy to do. De Ware was strong and fast and clever. He made her defend herself at a breathtaking pace, hardly leaving room for attack.
Eventually, she managed to take the upper hand, mostly because she fought outside the bounds of polite French swordsmanship and relied on her wits, doing the unexpected. Her moment of victory came when she’d retreated, drawing his slashes far and wide, giving him the impression he was driving her against the fence, and then rolled forward suddenly in the dust to come up at his throat.
He took his defeat with good-natured grace, chuckling in amusement at her trickery and bowing deeply in her honor.
Then the contest between her mother and The Sable Knight began.
Their battle was intriguing, more like a contest of wills and wiles than a physical fight. Rather than coming at her with a forceful attack, he held back, as if testing her mettle. Laird Deirdre too withheld her fiercest blows, forcing him to take the lead. This went on for several moments as they circled, their blades making only occasional contact.
The crowd began to lose patience, calling out for the fighting to begin.
Finally, Deirdre unleashed a barrage of blows.
To Hallie’s amazement, he easily deflected them all.
But her mother, aware now that the knight was capable of mounting a good defense, understood she’d have to fight with more brains than brawn.
They battled back and forth, like cats playing with mice, each waiting for the other to make a deadly mistake.
He almost got her once, and the gasps from the crowd were evidence of how close the sword that whistled past her head had come.
While she was recovering, he followed up with an onslaught of aggressive attacks that she caught on her shield. Finally, one hard strike from his sword cracked her shield in two, rendering it useless.
She tossed the thing aside, intending to continue fighting.
But The Sable Knight lowered his weapon and backed away, offering her the opportunity to fetch a new shield.
If it had been Hallie, her first instinct would have been to seize that opportunity.
Her second instinct—and what her mother did—was to yield.
Laird Deirdre lowered her sword, announcing that The Sable Knight had won the match fairly.
The crowd cheered her act of chivalry—and his—and she waved at them in thanks and recognition. Hallie realized at that moment that, for a laird, winning the clan’s respect was far more important than winning the match.
She was still considering her mother’s wisdom when the two combatants exited the field and she heard Laird Deirdre murmuring to