strides. Blood-red rage ripped through me, and then turned ice cold, stealing all thought but one—kill her. I smashed the hilt of my claymore into the guard’s head, he dropped and I whirled, grabbing the thing by her throat. She gasped my name, her eyes wide aqua pools in the starlight, the perfect mix of shock and wonder swirling in their depths.
Not Vee. She’s not Vee.
I squeezed, crushing the delicate cords of her neck. “Ye will no’ fool me this time, witch!” I drew back my sword. Not even Adelaide Blackmore Cadell could survive a blade through the heart.
The blunt edge of Duncan’s sword smacked me across the back and I stumbled forward. Somehow, I managed to turn the momentum of my impending face-plant into a roll. Springing back to my feet, I swung around to face my boyfriend with my sword at the ready.
“Good. That was a brilliant recovery.” Despite the positivity of his words, he continued to scrutinize me with narrowed eyes. Since taking on the role of my personal drill sergeant, he’d lost all sense of humor, and although I’d sworn not to complain, I missed his “Chuckles the Ogre” side.
He tipped his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “What do ye say to takin’ the rest of the night off? I think you’ve earned it. If ye hurry, you can make it to the hall ’fore supper is through.”
I wasn’t the type of girl who needed to be asked twice. Before he finished the sentence, I was shucking off my weapons belts and protective padding, which flopped onto the dewy grass like a slug. Although I’d been given a reprieve from Duncan’s rigorous training, I still had to clean my sword and return everything to the armory, aka Mabel’s barn. That would take at least another half hour.
Sighing, I reached over to gather my things, but Duncan’s soft voice stopped me. “Leave them be, woman. I’ll take care of your gear for ye.”
“Oh.” I’d assumed he would come to dinner. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had a meal together. “I’ll wait.”
“Tha’s all right. I have much to do here.” His eyes skimmed over me and continued on to the tree line. “Then I planned to check the progress of the bridge. They were beginning the apex of the arch this morn.”
I followed his gaze, wondering when we’d stopped looking at each other. “I could—uh—go with you.”
“Nay, lass. As you Yanks say, go blow off some steam. I heard that some o’ the lads have planned a proper gathering after the meal—dancing and everything. Enjoy yourself.”
Apparently, while I wasn’t the type of girl who needed to be asked twice, I was the type who needed to be told twice. Duncan wanted me to get lost . . . and not in the good way that involved his deep brown eyes.
“Well,” I drawled, as a sinking feeling settled in my chest. “See you tomorrow, then.”
In a daze, I headed toward the dining hall. On the short walk across the meadow, the sweat cooled on my skin. And although I started to feel the evening chill, it was nothing compared to the blizzard in my heart. Something had happened between Duncan and me—a shift too subtle and vague to give a name to, but too substantial to dismiss. Ever since he took over my training, it had felt like he was disappointed in me; like he’d lost interest because I wasn’t a good enough pupil. And he still wouldn’t talk about why he hadn’t wanted to train me in the first place.
As I stepped into the ginormous barn, the sounds of pipers and fiddlers reverberated from stalls across the room as they began to tune their instruments. Our converted dining hall, which consisted of a primitive kitchen at one end and long tables and benches filling the length of the space, had been decked for festivities. Boughs of purple-and-green heather wrapped artfully around the walls, interspersed with flickering golden candles, transported me to a certain Scottish kingdom in a galaxy far, far away.
Dressed in store-bought plaids, the newcomers easily outnumbered the tartan-clad Doonian refugees. Nearly everyone who had crossed the bridge from somewhere in the modern world seemed to be