his move was quick and tricky, Toran was ready for him and dodged the attempt with a laugh.
“Ye’re quick on your feet for a big man,” Toran taunted.
“I could say the same of ye, ye bloody bastard.”
Toran only chuckled at the insult. Dirk was getting frustrated, made even more so when Toran repeated his move and was able to land an elbow in the man’s spine before he got out of the way. They whirled on each other, Toran landing a punch in Dirk’s belly while Dirk connected a hard punch to Toran’s cheek. They grappled with one another, punching until Toran tossed them both to the ground. He pinned Dirk in place only to find himself launched in the air. Dirk scrambled toward him, where he’d landed on his back.
Leaping to his feet, Toran avoided being crushed by the weight of Dirk’s tackle. They circled each other again, nostrils flaring, bruises forming in the places they’d been able to land blows.
Rather than feeling anger or even pain, Toran felt exhilarated. It’d been a long time since he’d been in a scrap like this. “Ye impress me, Dirk.”
“Wish I could say the same. Wait a second, nay, I dinna.”
Toran chuckled. “I know ye dislike me, and I dinna care. Your mistress likes me, and that’s all that matters.”
That was enough of a goad. Dirk lunged forward, a meaty fist cracking Toran in the eye. But he’d been expecting that as well. He started to fall backward and grabbed hold of Dirk’s head. Toran brought his knee into the man’s nose, the sound of cartilage crunching and Dirk’s shout of pain a signal it was time to call it quits. No use in annihilating a man only to prove he was better—he’d already done that.
Toran backed away, hands up. “No more, man,” he said. “I’ve already broken your nose. I can barely see out of my eye, and I’ll be pissing blood for days.”
Dirk let out a bellow that was likely to wake the whole village. It certainly set the dogs howling, and old Dom came barreling into the circle to stand between the two men, barking his orders for them to cease fighting.
Toran was ready to listen, but Dirk, blood dripping down his face, looked ready to tear Toran in two.
“This is nay over.” Dirk spat blood onto the ground before stalking away, evidently not pleased even with Toran’s surrender.
* * *
The men’s barracks were barely lit. Shadows crawled across the ceiling, making it look like it would come crashing down on Jenny. She shouldn’t be in here—she should be outside putting a stop to the brawl. It had only taken one glance as she sprinted across the courtyard to see that the two men fighting inside the circle were Dirk and Toran.
She’d paused only long enough to see that they appeared to be on equal footing before rushing into the unguarded barracks. As soon as the fight ended, the men would be going back inside to sleep and nurse their wounds, and she couldn’t be caught there.
A fight between Toran and Dirk seemed inevitable. They’d been butting heads since the first night she’d spied the two Frasers on the road, and perhaps this was what they needed to knock it out of their heads and finally get along. At least she could hope. In the meantime, she stared around the barracks at the rows of cots, the clothes hung on the walls, the weapons stacked against the corners. How in blazes was she supposed to figure out which one belonged to Toran?
Jenny walked slowly down the center of the long chamber, staring from cot to cot, hoping something would leap out at her and scream Toran. It wasn’t until she got to the very end that she saw what she was looking for—two satchels matching the one she’d seen in Isla’s room, each on a separate cot.
Camdyn’s and Toran’s. She didn’t have time to contemplate whose was whose; she would just have to look through both. Jenny made quick work of the buckle on one, looking over her shoulder every few seconds as she riffled through the contents. Just clothes, a ball of soap, a…paper! She pulled out the folded scrap. A note? She opened the paper to find something quite unexpected instead.
It was a drawing—a very indecent drawing of a naked woman—scratched in coal. The woman was lying on her side, arms up over her head, her legs pressed together, but not hiding the dark triangle at her