“Nay, of course not,” Arran said dismissively before coming up close and using his hands on Davina’s waist to position her more effectively. “Ye just shouldnae curse and throw blades at the same time. Curseafterye have thrown the blade and hit your mark.”
Davina huffed, but this time, when she launched the blade, it hit right on the edge of the inner ring.
Arran moved down the line of women, adjusting them in turn—though his hands only lingered when it came to his wife. Even so, fury seemed to be a positive motivator, and the women’s blades grew closer and closer to the center of the target.
“I just… I hate that this feels like it’s my father all over again,” Mairi said without looking at the others. “I couldnae save him. He died right in front of me. And now Ailsa…”
She stopped speaking and swallowed hard. Eilidh and Davina, moving as one, embraced the woman whom they had come to regard as a fifth sister ever since the Buchanans had taken them in. Mairi let herself be surrounded, and Eilidh hoped that the warmth of their arms could keep some memories of watching her father’s death at bay.
“He needs to die,” Mairi said, her head hung low. “Maybe it’s hardhearted of me to say so…”
“Nay,” Davina said fiercely. “It’s nae hardhearted of ye to wish a man like Gordon to be stopped.”
“I just hate that we cannae do anything,” Eilidh confessed. “I hate that he hides like some sort of wretched little snake, then jumps out and snaps at us. It lacks honor.”
Mairi’s laughter was hollow. “Nobody could confuse Gordon for a man with honor,” she said bitterly. “He’s nae a laird. He’s a murderer.”
Davina pulled back from the other two, giving them a fierce look.
“He is, but we are nae helpless,” she insisted. “We are here, learning to fight. Then, one day, when he sticks his wee snake head out of his wretched hole, we will be ready to chop it off.”
Eilidh watched Davina’s eyes flicker over her shoulder, and she knew that Arran would be looking back approvingly at his wife.
“Ye are right,” Eilidh agreed. “If any of us sees Gordon, we will—” She pulled back and threw her dirk at the target. She missed. By a wide margin.
“Eilidh!” Arran groaned. “Did I nae just say it? No talking and throwing at the same time! Stab,thenthrow.”
She shot a look at her brother-in-law over her shoulder. It really wasn’t fair that every time one of her sisters married, Eilidh ended up with another elder brother. Even though Arran hadn’t had any little sisters until he’d married Davina, he had proven staggeringly adept at fraternal exasperation.
“If I ever meet Gordon, I promise to stab before I gloat,” she promised, batting her lashes at him playfully.
“If ye ever meet Gordon, my silly wee sister, it will be because I—and James and Ewan and Graham—havenae done our parts. But it is still worth learning to fight. Every lass should ken how to defend herself, both in times of war and times of peace.”
The women found themselves unable to deny the wisdom of this point, and so they diligently returned to their practice.
“Mayhap this renewed alliance with the Gunns will be the thing to turn the tide against Gordon,” Eilidh commented as she massaged her aching wrist.
Mairi, proving that Arran had been right all along, tossed her knife expertly before tossing her braid and regarding Eilidh.
“Oh, I wouldnae put too much credence in the Gunns’ prowess,” she said archly. “Most of the clan was cut down in skirmishes years ago, and fewer still made it through the rebellion. Their Keep is near a ruin and they’ve no incometo replenish it.” She stopped speaking and realized that both Davina and Eilidh were staring at her. “What?”
“How do ye ken all that?” Davina asked, sounding impressed.
“Oh.” Mairi giggled, looking faintly bashful. “I’ve always had a fancy for the history of the clans.”
She said it as though having all this knowledge at her fingertips wasn’t impressive in the least.
“Mairi Buchanan,” Eilidh said, shaking her head. “Ye are a constant marvel.”
Mairi grinned and acted as though this was merely a small thing, but Eilidh could see that she was pleased at the praise.
As the trio returned to their practice, Eilidh found her mind drifting to Ciaran so frequently that, when he appeared in the yard moments later, his gait far more natural and unburdened than it had been even a day before, she truly believed that she had summoned him with her thoughts.
His arrival cost her, however; while Davina’s aim was true on the next throw, Mairi’s was passable at best and Eilidh’s was downright hopeless. She ducked her head to hide her blush at the thought that such a formidable warrior had seen her fumble so badly.
But how could she help but be distracted by him? The grin set of his mouth and the shadows in his gaze made more sense now that she knew of the troubles plaguing his clan. How did he stand it? Eilidh worried about her people enough, and they were safely under Graham’s leadership once more. She couldn’t imagine goingyearswithout knowing if her clan would survive the next year or the next decade.
“What do ye think, Gunn?” Arran’s voice rang out across the space, startling Eilidh from her reverie. “Any advice for our trainees here?”
