Grace found the unwilling Ravenna in the library and led her toward the courtyard.
“I told you before. I don’t think any amount of practice will improve your aim. You’ve been trying this for years to no avail.”
“In all fairness, you and Father never gave me a chance once you saw my aim was poor. And you know very well that I’ve never had as much instruction as you.”
“All right, all right. You win.” Ravenna stopped and pointed her finger at Grace. “But I’m giving you fair warning. The moment you cause me grief, I will no longer instruct you. Do you understand?”
Grace nodded. “I understand.”
A look of discomfort crossed Ravenna’s face as they turned and made their way silently through the halls. The quiet moment ended as soon as they walked into the courtyard and Grace heard a loud commotion against the far wall.
Men stood huddled around something neither she nor Ravenna could make out. The sound of clashing swords echoed through the air. From what Grace could decipher from the heavy Scottish accents, taunts were being thrown like stones. It sounded like there was a bloody battle in the bailey. Without hesitation, the sisters moved closer to the chaos.
The Sutherland guard encircled Ruairi and Fagan, who had swords drawn at the ready. Sweat glistened on their muscled forms and their bare chests heaved. Again to her surprise, Grace found herself drawn to only one man.
She knew she should’ve thought of Daniel, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. How could she when Fagan’s kilt rode low on his lean hips and her mind suddenly burned with the memory of his hard body pressed against hers? She even had a hard time trying to keep her gaze riveted on the man’s face. She tried. She truly did, but then she found her eyes moving slowly down his frame and dreamed once again of being crushed within his embrace. She made no attempt to hide that she was watching him, and then his gaze met hers.
The man looked like a warrior god sent from the heavens above. She was entranced and did not want to tear her attention away from him. He was so compelling, his magnetism so potent. Entranced by his strong chiseled jaw, emerald eyes, broad shoulders, and long flowing hair, she swore that her heart skipped a beat. Sweat beaded on his brow and his chest glistened. Her fingers just ached to touch him again.
When he looked at her enigmatically, she felt a shudder run through her. She turned her head away when Ravenna’s gentle nudge brought her back from her woolgathering.
“Are you all right? They are only practicing their swordplay. You know they’re not really fighting.”
Grace heard herself swallow. “Pardon? Oh yes, let’s go then.” When she stole another glance at Fagan, he had resumed his sparring with Ruairi.
The mossy field was a lush, rich green, and the sound of ocean waves called to her in the distance. Grace took a deep breath as the smell of salt air and pine wafted through the air. When they approached the tree line, Ravenna bent down, pulling back the brush and uncovering a large piece of wood. She propped the target against a tree and brushed her hands together.
“That should do it. I used this to practice when Ruairi wanted to test my skill with my blade—before he found me out.”
Grace dismissed her sister’s snappish remark. “I assume you didn’t hesitate to put him in his place, but then again, I don’t know many men who can best you with a blade.”
Ravenna shrugged. “I didn’t want to do all that well, because then he would’ve been suspicious of me.”
The sound of breaking branches came closer, and when Angus emerged from the woods, Ravenna froze. She spoke through gritted teeth. “Why can these animals always sense when you’re not fond of them? He stalks me and no one else.”
Grace waved her sister off. “He does this because you continue to act the way you do. Think of Angus as you should most men. Pay him no heed. When you dismiss him, he’ll go away and leave you alone.”
“That’s what Ruairi said.”
“Mmm… Then you should listen to me and your husband.”
The wolf took a step toward them, and Ravenna placed her arms out in front of her. “Shoo, Angus! Off with you!” Angus hesitated, and then the animal turned and walked toward the castle.
“Or you can just bellow at them.”
Not paying any attention to Grace’s comment, Ravenna walked back a few feet from the target. “Come stand right here.”
“That’s not very far away. You’re not instructing Kat, you know.”
“No, but you need to learn how to throw your blade first.” Ravenna lifted her skirts and pulled out the dagger strapped to her leg while Grace did the same. “If you want to know all there is to know, I’ll teach you.” Ravenna held out her blade flat-handed as she gave pointed instruction with her other hand. “There are three types of blades: blade-heavy, hilt-heavy, and one that is equally balanced. Since you really haven’t practiced, blade-heavy or hilt-heavy would work best. Fortunately, the blade you carry is hilt-heavy. My blade is equally balanced.”
“All right, but how do I throw it?”
“Since your blade is hilt-heavy, you’ll throw it by the blade.” When Grace raised her arm with dagger in hand, Ravenna grabbed her forearm. “But before you’re ready for that, we’ll need to talk about your grip.”
“I won’t drop it.”
Ravenna shook her head. “It’s not that simple. You want a firm grip but also need to be able to maintain a delicate hold on your blade. Too much grip will hamper your release, while not enough might cause your dagger to fly out of your hand when you don’t want it to.”
“So how do I hold it?”
“Give me your blade.” Grace handed Ravenna her dagger, and with a sudden flick of her wrist, her sister whipped the blade into the ground. “Now hold out the palm of your hand.” Ravenna molded Grace’s hand into place and then picked up the dagger from the ground and slid it into Grace’s hand.
“You want the handle pointing away from you like this. Place the blunt edge of the blade into the crease you have created because you want the tip to line up with the bottom of your thumb. Now pinch the blade without pressing against the point or the sharpened edge.”
“Like this?”
“Yes, exactly like that. Now turn around. You are fairly close to the target.”
“Do you want me to move back?”
“No.” Ravenna grabbed Grace’s arm. “Bend your wrist back toward your forearm. The dagger will be able to turn over in the air more quickly. Now I want you to place your weight on your right leg and keep your left leg slightly forward. Be sure to keep the blade a safe distance away from your face so you don’t cut yourself when you throw.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Can I just throw it already?”
“Grace… Now you’re going to shift your weight from your right to the left leg at the same time you swing your forearm forward from the elbow so that your arm is straight out in front of you. At that point, you release your dagger.” Ravenna stepped back. “Go ahead and aim.”
Grace released her blade into the air and it landed in the tree, several feet above the target.
“It’s important to remember to keep your entire movement fluid.” Ravenna lifted her dagger and threw it dead center into the target. “Like that.”
“So I see.”
Grace walked over and pulled the daggers from the tree and the target. She returned Ravenna’s blade and moved back to where she’d initially thrown hers. Grace gave her sister a brief nod. She turned and studied the target intently, trying to remember everything Ravenna had told her. She paid close attention to the way she held her blade, moved her body into the appropriate position, and lifted her dagger. When she felt ready, she tossed the blade at the target and let out a heavy sigh. At least the first time she’d managed to hit the darned tree. When she realized her dagger had missed the target and the tree entirely, she looked at her sister.
“
Just try again, Grace.”
Grace walked over to the target and looked next to the tree. Lifting her skirts, she turned her head over her shoulder. “It landed somewhere in the brush.” With a carefully placed step, she walked into the heavy thicket, careful not to tear her day dress. She slid her boot along the ground in the hope she could feel her dagger. Behind her, she could hear the sound of her sister’s blade as it hit the target with a thump, without a doubt dead center as it always was.
Not being able to see her dagger, Grace took a few more steps into the brush and spotted the hilt. She picked up the blade, and when she stood, she jumped. She couldn’t help but place her hand over her heart to make sure the darned thing stayed put.
“What are you doing there? You startled me.”
* * *
Fagan’s arm ached, his back pained him, and his muscles screamed from the strain of heavy swordplay. He and Ruairi had both refused to yield, his liege being just as—if not more—stubborn than he was. Only when it was time for the noon meal did both men agree there was no winner or loser. That was the only way either one of them would have stopped. As Fagan walked through the bailey with Ruairi, his friend lowered his voice.
“I didnae say anything in front of the men, but God’s teeth, were ye trying to kill me?” Ruairi lifted his arm, pressing his shoulder and moving it around, at the same time Fagan rubbed his aching back.
“I could say the same to ye. My body feels as though ’twas through a bloody battle.”
When they reached the great hall, about a score of clan members had already taken their seats for the meal. To Fagan’s surprise, no one was seated yet on the dais. The sight pleased him because this day kept getting better and better. He couldn’t help but wonder when his luck would run out.
They sat at the table, and Ruairi growled. “My wife is going to kill ye.”
“Donna blame this all on me, my liege. Ye know I’m the better swordsman. Ye could have yielded some time ago. Ye’re far too proud, Ruairi.”
“Arse.”
“Aye.”
Their brief solace was interrupted by a wee lass with golden curls. “Ruairi, have you seen Ravenna or Grace?”
“I think they went for a walk. I’m sure they’ll be back for the meal.”
Kat sat down in the chair beside Fagan. “I saw you and Ruairi fighting in the bailey.”
“We werenae fighting, lassie. ’Twas only a wee bit of swordplay.”
She lifted a brow. “Why?”
If she’d folded her arms over her chest, Fagan would’ve sworn he was talking to a smaller version of Grace. “Ruairi and I have to maintain our skills to defend the castle. If we donna practice, we lose our skill and will nae be able to keep the clan safe.”
“But I don’t understand. Why would the two of you need to defend the castle? I know you have guards. Don’t they do that for you?”
Fagan couldn’t help but smile at Kat’s innocent questions. He didn’t want to give her all the details of what being a Highland captain entailed, but perhaps her curiosity would be satisfied with a bit of the truth. “I am the captain of the Sutherland guard and responsible for protecting Ruairi and this clan. I defend the castle with the guards. Do you understand now?”
She shrugged with indifference like someone else he knew. “I suppose.”
“Where are Torquil and Elizabeth, Katherine?” asked Ruairi.
“Oh, Elizabeth was in her chamber, and Torquil and I were in the library.”
“It makes me proud to see the two of ye getting along. Were ye reading together then?”
“No. After we saw you and Fagan draw swords on each other in the bailey, Torquil and I were practicing swordplay of our own.”
“What do ye mean ye were practicing swordplay of your own?”
“Torquil gave me my own sword and I was defending the castle too.”
“And where did my son get this sword?”
Kat stared at the ceiling and tapped her finger to her lip. “Umm… I think he pulled one of the swords off the wall. Don’t worry though. I knew it was far too big for me. Torquil used that sword and gave me one of the daggers.”
Seven
The man with the long, black hair stood silently and stared back at Grace. He wore a black tunic and a dark-colored kilt, and he had a large scar over his left eye that traveled down the length of his jaw. Thank goodness he was one of Ruairi’s men because she would’ve been frightened if she’d met him somewhere out on her own. When she repeated her question and asked him again what he was doing there, he turned and disappeared into the trees, but not before she spotted a shiny sword sheathed in a belt at his waist.
“Did you find it? Do you need my help?” asked Ravenna, calling to Grace in the distance.
Grace hesitated and only when she didn’t see or hear any further sign of the man did she respond. “No, I found it! I’m coming!” She untangled her skirts from the brush and stepped into the clearing. She approached her sister, tapping the hilt of the dagger in her hand.
“Do you want to try again? I can help you with your stance.”
Grace stood again in front of the target, and then she looked at Ravenna. “Yes, but I need to say something first. I truly don’t know how you’re ever going to get used to these Highland men. I find them so odd.”
“I’ve heard enough from you,” Ravenna snapped. “You decided to stay to spend time with us, but all you’ve managed to do thus far is complain about Ruairi and his clan. He’s a Highlander. Yes, he’s different from us, Grace, but what did you expect? He’s my husband. You’re starting to insult me with your harsh words.”
Grace placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Oh, Ravenna, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant at all. When I searched for my dagger in the woods, I saw one of Ruairi’s guards there. I asked him what he was doing, and the man didn’t even have the decency to respond. He just stood there staring at me like a dolt. Granted, the only one of Ruairi’s men that I know is Fagan, but even he speaks when you ask him something—well, most of the time anyway.”
Ravenna gazed at the tree line and spoke lightly. “I think that’s enough instruction for today. Let’s return to the castle. It’s time for the noon meal anyway.”
As they walked back to the castle, Grace could have sworn something was troubling Ravenna. Her sister kept stealing a glance at the woods and indiscreetly fingering the hilt of her blade through her skirts, which was a pretty good indication that Grace’s instincts were right. Times like these made Grace wonder how Ravenna could’ve ever been a spy because her sister had seen Angus make his way back to the castle. The wolf was not in the woods, yet Ravenna continued to search for the animal, as if she waited for the beast to spring from the trees and attack her at any moment. And Ravenna didn’t believe Grace had what it took to be a spy for the Crown! Grace was confident that she’d be mastering spy craft before her sister knew it.
When they entered the great hall, they both sensed something was wrong because Ruairi scowled, Elizabeth played with the food on her trencher, Fagan was quiet, and Kat and Torquil had their heads bowed.
“What’s the matter?” asked Ravenna, taking her seat on the dais.
Ruairi took a drink from his tankard. His face was clouded with anger. “I think your sister and my son are now getting along too well. I donna know which is worse—Katherine giving chase to Torquil or having the two of them spar with each other in the library.”
“Whatever do you mean?” When Ruairi took too long to respond, Ravenna looked at Kat for an explanation.
Ruairi cleared his throat. “Somebody saw Fagan and me in the bailey and decided to have a wee bit of sport.” He shook his head. “While I practiced swordplay with the captain of my guard, Torquil practiced swordplay with your sister in the library. My son pulled a sword from the wall and gave Katherine a dagger to wield.”
Grace c
ouldn’t stay the giggle that escaped her. When Ruairi’s eyes met hers, she turned to Kat. “Kat, you know better than that, and you’re not to take something without permission.”
Kat folded her arms across her chest. “I didn’t need to ask permission. Torquil gave it to me.”
“And my son should’ve known better. One of ye could have been hurt.”
“Aye, Da,” said Torquil in an appeasing tone.
Ravenna gave Grace a knowing look, and Grace knew her sister had the same thought. They remembered when their father used to scold them for playing with his set of daggers in the study. Granted, no one was ever hurt, but getting into mischief had to be something that ran in the Walsingham family.
“I’m certain they meant no harm, Ruairi. They’ll never do it again,” said Grace. “Isn’t that right, Kat and Torquil?”
The children both nodded at the same time. Grace had just turned back to her meal when she heard Ravenna whisper to Ruairi. “Na bi fada.”
He looked over his shoulder and then back to his wife. “And where would I be going, lass?”
A heavy sigh escaped Ravenna. “That’s not what I was trying to say. I’m never going to learn the Gaelic language.” She lowered her voice again. “I need to talk with you.”
“I’m finished with my meal. Do ye want to go to my study?”
Ravenna grabbed a biscuit from the table, stood, and turned to Grace. “I’ll see you and the girls later.”
Grace briefly wondered if that was secret code for her sister and brother-in-law to disappear and enjoy their nightly ritual in the middle of day. Grace closed her eyes and shuddered at the thought, pondering if Daniel would ever expect her to do such a thing.
“I’m finished too,” said Kat.
As Torquil and Kat stepped away from the table, Grace grabbed her sister’s arm. “Be sure to stay away from sharp weapons on the walls.”
“We know, Grace.”
When Grace turned slightly, she caught Fagan staring at her. Her heart thumped erratically, but she managed to regard him with impassive coldness. She had to. She needed to shut out any awareness of him. The man had a way of muddling her thoughts every time he crossed her mind. She cleared her throat, pretending to be unaffected.
Kilts and Daggers Page 7