it across the Tweed alive on a day as chilly as this.”
“It’s only November.” Lachlan turned and ran backward, egging the guard to run faster. “I could swim across and run five miles thereafter.”
“Ye’ll sink for certain. That river has a strong current that will drag ye under and wrap around your legs. The weed alone will trap your calves like a spider’s web.”
Sir Boyd stepped out from the stairwell and waved them over. “Good morrow. I see ye’re enjoying our icy autumn morn.”
“Aye, and he reckons he’s going for a wee swim next,” said Hamish.
“In the Tweed?” Boyd gave Lachlan a once-over. “There’s a bit of ice on the shore. Ye’d succumb to the cold afore ye reached the other side.”
Looking between the two men, an idea popped in Lachlan’s head—probably a bad one, but hell, all he had in the world right now was an old bronze medallion he’d been given on a loan. Might as well go for broke—as long as I choose my words carefully. “If a man has the right training, he can control his mind and body.”
“Now ye’re sounding like a sorcerer,” said Hamish.
“Nope, there’s nothing underhanded about it.” Lachlan jammed his finger into Sir Boyd’s chest. “In fact, I could teach you and your men to do the same—make them stronger—give them an edge over those English bastards who keep trying to invade your lands.”
Boyd raised his eyebrows as if considering. “Prove it first.”
“All right, but I need a couple of assurances from you beforehand.”
The knight scowled. “Ye are in no position to be making demands.”
“If I’ll be staying here, I want your trust.” Lachlan held up his wrists. “Remove these manacles and I want my own place to sleep.”
“Ye have a place to sleep,” said Hamish.
Lachlan eyed Boyd. “Where do the other men bed down? Behind bars?”
“In the hall, of course.”
“The hall?” Bloody hell, maybe he was better off in the cell. “Whatever. No more manacles and no more treating me like a criminal—you have no grounds on which to detain me.”
“King Robert determines whom he trusts.”
“But he listens to the knights and nobles who support him.” Lachlan shook his finger under the knight’s nose. “Especially you.” He watched Boyd’s face. The nobleman met him with an unfaltering stare that suggested he was a man of his word. Regardless, if they didn’t cut him some slack, he’d take a flying leap from the wall and take his chances in the river, manacles or not.
Sir Boyd ran his fingers down his beard. “I think I’d like to see this feat of mind control.”
By the time they’d made it to the river, the sun was higher and most of the snow had melted. The area must have had a lot of rain recently, because the river was swollen and the current strong. A crowd of onlookers stood several feet away at the top of the bank.
Shrugging, Lachlan removed his cloak, folded it and placed it on a rock to keep it dry. Then he pulled his sweatshirt over his head and tugged down his karate pants. He stripped down to his jockeys for two reasons. The first was being unencumbered while swimming and the second being to keep his only clothes dry. A swimming contest he could handle. Coming down with pneumonia because he had to sit in wet clothes all afternoon would have been plain stupid.
Glancing over his shoulder, he gave the onlookers a thumbs up. After sucking in a deep breath, he took a running dive into the swift moving torrent. Plunging into the icy Tweed was akin to a whirlpool bath filled with ice. He hadn’t become a martial arts expert without injury and the shock of being encased in icy water wasn’t a new experience. Though the river’s current was angry, the weed reaching up and brushing his legs as he pumped was just as troublesome. Holding his breath as long as he could, he pulled himself toward the surface. When his head broke through, he used a burst of energy to block his mind to the frigid cold and swam.
Lachlan powered through the water with his eye on the shore. At the halfway point, it didn’t surprise him to see Sir Boyd standing with his boots and clothing on the other side. Not that Boyd came across as a bleeding heart. The two of them needed to have a private conversation sooner or later. One that centered around trust and how they would retrieve Lady Christina’s son. Now he