A wave of tense murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“What is she saying?”
“Competition?”
“English games now?”
Emma cleared her throat loudly. “You want to prove that pirates are nothing, that they are weak and dishonorable? Beat them where everyone can see. Or is it only easier to shout for blood?”
That stung; Logan could see it on the villagers’ faces.
On the far side, one of the pirates snorted. “What sort of competition? Cards? Kissing? I will volunteer for the last one.”
Another wave of laughter spread through the crowd, and even some of the villagers’ mouths twitched before they remembered to be angry.
Emma remained calm. “Something simple,” she said. “Fair. No knives. No blades. You all know how to pull rope, do you not? Then pull it.”
The words hung there, and Logan almost laughed as realization dawned on him.
Tug o’ war.
He found himself staring at her. He had not told her to speak or warned her what these men could turn into, how fast. Yet she stood there, offering them a way out that would not shame either side.
For a long moment, no one moved, then all eyes swiveled back to him. This, more than anything, would decide it. If he laughed her off, the idea would die. If he refused, they would go back to blades. If he agreed, if he put his weight behind her suggestion, the ground would shift.
He drew in a breath. “We can try it.”
The words were simple, but something told him the effect was not.
Shock rippled through both sides, and he saw it in their eyes. The Pirate Laird was backing the Englishwoman’s foolish, rope-and-game solution. However, the decision had barely settled when someone produced a rope.
Logan did not ask where it had come from, since every village had one. His men shifted as it was brought out, curiosity flashing across their faces. The villagers, on the other hand, eyed it carefully.
Emma stepped forward again before anyone could speak.She exhaled and turned to the father.
“You take your place here,” she instructed. “With your men behind you.”
The father hesitated, pride catching in his throat. Then, with a curse under his breath, he stepped up and wrapped both hands around the rope.
Emma turned to the pirate youth.
“And you,” she said, voice softer. “Back there with them.”
The boy glanced at Logan, then at Pete.
Pete jerked his chin. “Ye heard the lady. Get yer hands on it.”
The sides formed, and Emma walked to the center and nodded to Logan. “On your word,” she said.
He grabbed the rope, only for a moment, to make sure the middle lay right over the groove. The fibers bit into his palms, and he nodded, then stepped back.
“Pull,” he commanded.
The rope snapped tight in a breath as both sides heaved at once. The rope shuddered, dragged an inch toward the villagers, then slid back toward the pirates. Soon, mud churned under boots, and dust rose as pirates hurled insults across the line.
“Is that all the Highlanders can do?”
“Ye tug like old grandmothers.”
