side of its mouth.
“Alan, are ye inviting people to join us?” Sutherland frowned at the man, evidently displeased.
It was on the tip of Isolde’s tongue to decline the invite, but then she remembered she was pretending to be her brother. And Gilbert would never be so charitable. Besides, some light combat might help ease some of the tension roiling through her body. As it was, her blood pumped through her veins with such force that she felt ready to burst.
“I could use the practice,” she said in Gilbert’s lofty tone.
Sutherland slid her a wary glance.
“He evens out our number,” a red-haired man wearing no surcoat over his chainmail said.
Sutherland didn’t answer so much as he simply grunted, but it appeared to be acquiescence enough. Isolde joined the men as two others prepared for a mock fight against one another.
“Do ye always walk about with yer helmet on?” Sutherland kept his own head bare as he braced for combat.
“I didn’t pay a king’s fortune for this armor to not wear it,” Isolde said, plucking her brother’s words without effort.
Sutherland scoffed. “I’m sure ye dinna get the chance often to wear it in battle. At least no’ outside of tournaments and practice.”
Isolde simply raised her sword rather than deign to reply. Sutherland didn’t move toward her. No doubt, he knew her—or rather her brother’s—arrogance and was assured she would advance first. And advance she did, with her blade aggressively swiping toward him.
He evaded the strikes, shifting this way and that, his movements smooth. When she lowered her weapon to prepare to strike once more, he took advantage and jabbed at her side, a blow she only just managed to dodge. It was then she knew she had to forego her brother’s overconfidence on the field lest she fall. In this one thing, she would rely on her own education and instinct, lest she end up dead.
“Do ye think that bonny serving wench will be at our table again tonight, Duncan?” the red-haired man asked.
His opponent, a man with cropped dark hair, grinned. “Ach, I hope so. She had a fine set of duckies on her.”
Isolde’s face burned with mortification at the man’s crude speech about the woman’s breasts. Her own were bound tightly beneath a band of linen. It was a necessary discomfort she would gladly endure for an opportunity to defeat Brodie Ross.
Sutherland shot a long-suffering look at the two men.
Duncan held up his free hand in surrender. “I canna help that I noticed she was a fine thing to gaze upon. And ye’re one to chastise when ye were talking up the bonny lass in the yellow kirtle.”
Isolde froze, uncertain if she ought to interrupt this discussion lest her own “duckies” be put on the table for discussion. After all, Cormac had made a point of noting his appreciation for them the night before.
“Blundering, more like.” Sutherland’s mouth quirked in a smile and a dimple showed in his left cheek. “Lady Isolde is too fine a lass for the likes of me.”
The men laughed.
“Lady Isolde?” she haughtily quipped. “I say, that’s my sister you’re referring to. You haven’t come to speak to me of any interest.”
Sutherland turned his glare first to Alan, who offered an apologetic smile, then to her as his eyes narrowed with skepticism. “With all due respect, if I had an interest in the lady, I’d converse with her rather than her brother.”
Heavens. What a perfect response.
“I’m in charge of what she does,” Isolde countered, testing Sutherland further. “No man can consider her without my permission. And if you want her for marriage, you better offer me a pretty fortune.”
Sutherland’s expression turned to one of barely concealed disgust. “She’s a lass. No’ cattle.” He lifted his sword. “Enough of this banter, let’s do what we came to do and warm our muscles with practice, aye?”
Isolde was glad she wore the helm, lest he see the awed expression on her face. No man had ever spoken in such a manner to her brother. Certainly, Gilbert would never have allowed it. But she was the puppeteer controlling her brother’s image, and she would do nothing to sway such glorious ideals.
She lifted her weapon and tried to put Sutherland from her thoughts so she could more readily focus.
After all, he had suddenly become quite fascinating.
4
Isolde fought several rounds with Sutherland and one with Duncan, and the other man whose name she learned was Lachlan. She beat both the men and won two of the five sets with Sutherland.
Her body hummed