as a model for how her form should look. Branwen loved the feeling of letting the weapon go, the sound of it sluicing through the air somewhat magical to her ears. Probably because it made her feel she was finally in control of something—even if it was just a slender piece of wood with a metal tip. They practiced over and over again, and although she never wished to stop, her arms developed a soreness that surprised her.
Finally, Dyna called a stop to their practice.
“You’ll be sore until your muscles adjust to it. You’ve done a fine job today. Find a way to practice on your own after you leave. ’Tis the only way to get better. Practice, practice, practice.”
“Many thanks for your assistance and for the bow,” Branwen said.
“And here’s a quiver full of arrows for you. Hide them amongst your things so your sire will not notice,” Dyna said. “If you ever need help, come to me. We’ll find a way. I’ll see if I can find you a pair of leggings to fit. ’Tis much easier to shoot in them. I have many in my chamber.” Shocked at the thought, even though Dyna wore leggings so unabashedly, Branwen shook her head and said, “My sire would never allow it.”
Dyna pursed her lips and said, “Why does he need to know? My guess is you’re going to run away, so you better have something under that gown to run in. You can hide them in your saddlebag when you go.”
Branwen grinned at that image. Somehow, she knew she would use the leggings. “Many thanks. I would appreciate it if you found some for me.”
Dyna patted her shoulder and said, “As you wish. Don’t back down.”
“And I’ll help you,” Chrissa said. “Lasses can be strong, too. ’Tis what my mama says all the time.”
Those words would stick with her. She would not marry Osbert Ware. She just had to figure a way out.
***
The following day, Alick made his way back to the keep from the lists. Whenever visitors stayed on Grant land for a festival or celebration, they enjoyed watching the warriors fight in the lists. Alick had sparred with his sire and Uncle Connor, although he surely missed his cousins Els and Alasdair.
His sister came running out to him from the keep. “How is Mama?” Alick asked.
“She’s better, but she’s staying abed.” Spanning the remaining distance between them, she got up on her toes and whispered, “Do you know what I learned?”
His sister loved to be the first to spread word of any new event, but sometimes what she deemed important was hardly anything he cared about. Guessing this would prove to be one of those times, he rolled his eyes and asked, “What?”
“Your girlfriend is betrothed to an old man and he’s bothering her.”
This was not one of those times. “Chrissa, what are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Aye, you do and her name is Branwen and I met her and she has to marry an ugly old man with six bairns. He’s bothering her, but she doesn’t want him…”
He held his hand up to stop her. “Where is she?”
Chrissa pointed off to the side, to two figures standing some distance away.
He pointed. “Go back to the keep.”
Chrissa took off toward the lists. Wrong way, but he didn’t care.
Although Branwen and her companion were too far away for him to hear their conversation, he didn’t like the look of it. She seemed agitated, uncomfortable. So he headed in their direction.
It was then he saw Branwen attempt to push the older man away. But he simply reached for her again.
They were in Alick’s mother’s garden, which only made him more furious. Hands in fists, he turned to face his father, who was just catching up with him. “Da, I don’t care what her father says, I’m interfering again.”
“Chrissa said there’s trouble? Are those the two?” Da’s brow furrowed as he looked toward them. “Aye, she looks to be refusing his advances and they are alone. Go do what’s right.”
Considering that as all the permission he needed, he stalked toward them, nearly running. “Leave her be!” he shouted from afar.
Ware turned around and dropped his hands immediately from Branwen, but he didn’t look guilty enough to Alick’s mind.
“This is none of your affair, lad,” the man said. “This is my betrothed and we were having a conversation. ’Tis all, so go on your way.”
Alick said, “Like hell. You were forcing her to do something she didn’t wish