consternation such an offer would bring Aleck MacIain.
No sooner had he thought about the braggart when Aleck strode into the courtyard. It was about time the beef-witted chieftain showed his face during the training. MacIain mostly steered clear of the daily sparing sessions. Eoin gestured to the line of sparring soldiers. “Your men are showing promise.”
MacIain frowned, his dark eyes squinting in the sunlight. “My men were well-trained before you arrived.” He pointed to Grant. “Look there, my henchman just out-maneuvered yours.”
A smirking blast of air trumpeted through Eoin’s nose. It would be useless to try to explain what had happened to the clueless buffoon. Instead, he opted to focus on the positive. “Now you’ve got it, Grant. Give Fergus a good run and make him earn his keep.”
MacIain scowled. “You think you’re so bloody superior. If you put my army against yours, my men would stand together and come out the victors.”
That stopped Eoin short. “You reckon?”
“I don’t reckon. I ken.”
Eoin smoothed his hand over his chin and eyed the man’s belly—it was nearly as big as the man’s bravado. Then a picture of Helen’s bruised face came to mind. “Seems to me you’d prefer to fight with the lassies than come out here with the men.” He waggled his brows. Mayhap he’d rile MacIain enough to make him take a swing.
Aleck shoved Eoin’s shoulder with the heel of his hand. “You’d best watch your mouth, else someone might opt to cut out your flapping tongue.”
“Aye, oh, great chieftain?” Eoin would have liked to see him try. He stepped within an inch of the braggart’s nose. “Why have you been hiding in your miserable keep—or do you let your men fight your battles for you?”
With a growl MacIain shuffled away and drew his sword. “I’ll show you a thing or two, you bloody bastard.” The big man advanced, hacking his weapon like he was wielding a meat cleaver.
Anticipating the assault, Eoin had snatched his sword from its scabbard. He defended the attack with swift counter moves. What Aleck lacked in finesse, he made up for in brute strength. Eoin suspected the chieftain would tire quickly—he hadn’t seen MacIain lift a finger in the past sennight. No warrior could withstand a good fight without honing his stamina daily.
Eoin darted from side to side, eluding the brutish strikes while patiently waiting for the big oaf to tire. “Tell me, how did Lady Helen end up with a blackened eye?”
The thug bellowed as he hacked his blade with herculean thrusts. “That is none of your concern.”
Och, but I’m making it my concern. Eoin played along with Aleck’s display of brawn, deflecting every bone-jarring blow, biding his time until the brute made a critical mistake. Deep down, Eoin wanted to match MacIain stroke for stroke—to drive him to the wall and hold his blade against Aleck’s neck and demand he never raise a hand against Lady Helen again. But first, he would wear him down.
“Do you know what I think?” Eoin asked casually as if he were out for a noonday stroll.
“I don’t give a rat’s arse,” Aleck growled, sucking in deep gasps of air. “You can take your thoughts and sail back to Argyllshire.”
“That would be my pleasure,” Eoin seethed through gritted teeth. “If we didn’t have our beloved Scotland to defend.” Eoin circled, watching and waiting for Aleck to make his next move. “I think,” he said, not caring whether Aleck wanted to hear his opinion or nay. “You struck Duncan Campbell’s sister—a noblewoman, for one, and a lady who has no means to defend herself against an oaf as large as you.”
Aleck’s toe caught on a cobblestone and he stumbled toward Eoin. Hopping aside, MacGregor let the swine crash into the wall.
Eoin tapped his foot and waited while MacIain regained his composure. Clearly, Aleck wasn’t concerned about raising the ire of the Lord of Glenorchy. Eoin blew a scoff out the side of his mouth. “I’m surprised Lady Helen hasn’t informed her brother of your brutish behavior toward her.”
“A man has a right to maintain order in his castle.” Bellowing, Aleck charged like an incensed bull.
Mistake.
Clamping an arm around MacIain’s neck, Eoin used the brute’s momentum to pull him into a stranglehold and angled his blade to the bastard’s throat. “No respectable knight would ever raise his hand against a woman,” he growled. Aleck squirmed and bared his teeth, but one errant move and he’d be a dead man.
Eoin clamped his arm so taut, he all but crushed the man’s