gone and her mother had said she was going to rest for the remainder of the day, she could do so comfortably at Cnàmhan Broch. It was not yet sunset, and she still had plenty of energy.
Jenny hurried down the stairs and out to the training field. As soon as the men saw her coming, they let out a raucous cheer. The only two perplexed by her presence were Archie, who by now had healed enough to participate, and Camdyn.
Jenny aimed the tip of her sword at Archie. “Ye, Fraser. Want to fight?”
He pointed to his chest, eyes going wide, and then glanced around at the other men as if expecting one of them to have an answer. They all just grinned, knowing exactly what was coming. Simon, the wastrel, even started taking bets, his coin on Archie.
Jenny laughed. “Come on now, ye’re not afraid of a woman, are ye?”
“Nay, Mistress,” he said, though his eyes looked worried.
“Then take up your sword and let us see what ye’re made of.”
The men clapped and formed a circle around the two of them, Camdyn looking ready to leap to her defense. She pointed at the lad and said, “Ye’re next.”
The lad looked crestfallen, and she couldn’t help laughing even more. “Lad, ye’re old enough to know the rules of a soldier. Never show your opponent your fears. Slap some color back into those cheeks if ye have to.”
Simon leaned over, grasping the lad around the shoulders, and said something, obviously teasing him, for Camdyn grew even redder about the cheeks.
Archie faced her, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and holding his sword and small Scottish shield—his targe—upright. His mouth pinched with worry, eyes crinkled at the corners.
“First to draw blood?” she taunted, finding the lure of teasing him irresistible.
He blanched. “Mistress!”
“I’m teasing. Try not to cut yourself.” And with that, she started to circle him. “Show me what ye’ve got, Fraser. Dinna hold back.”
Archie nodded and tentatively tapped his sword to hers, the way a child might.
“What am I, a bairn?” She laughed. “Hit me for real, sir.”
Archie tapped her sword a little harder, and Jenny decided to show him no mercy. She slammed her sword against his, feeling the jar of the blow all the way up her arm and stunning the man in the process.
“Ye’re strong,” he mused.
“Aye. Now fight me.”
Archie didn’t hold back the next time, advancing on her. They parried back and forth, knocking into one another, blocking, dodging, hitting, ducking. Sweat dripped down her spine, from her brow, and on her upper lip. She’d not had a workout like this in weeks.
She was only just getting warmed up. She jabbed her sword forward, one of her favorite moves, and caught the blade of his just above the hilt. With a spin of her sword and a sure flick of her wrist, his sword was in the air.
Archie didn’t hesitate to duck and roll for the weapon, but she advanced on him, kicking it away. He pulled out his dirk, and while some of the men gasped, Jenny only laughed.
“Good move, soldier.” She pressed the tip of her sword against his neck. “Ye might be dead, but I’m wounded, aye?”
Archie grinned. She reached for his hand and helped him up.
“I’ve never fought a woman before.”
“Most men have not. On the fields of battle, they either believe me weak and easily overcome or are too scared to injure me. Works to my advantage either way.”
Archie shook his head in that way people did when they were proven wrong. “I will never underestimate a woman again.”
“’Tis good ye say so. We are stronger than we look.” She glanced toward Camdyn. “Are ye ready, lad?”
He nodded, smiling broadly, excitement in his features rather than the fear that had shown there before. She liked that, could see in him what an eager Toran might have looked like in his youth.
The lad took up his sword, in position to circle her, but just as he lunged forward, a bellow rent the air.
Toran pushed his way into the circle, standing between the two of them. “What the bloody hell is going on here?” A fierce glower covered his dirt-smeared face, cheeks flushed as though he’d been running from wherever it was he’d been. His wild dark hair flew in all directions, and she had to resist the urge to smooth it out and then to follow that by smoothing the angry lines on his face. She scanned his plain