He pulled on his boots just as the door was angrily thrown open, revealing the same guards who’d taken him to Kai’s study.
“Ye have wasted enough time on primping,” one of them snarled.
Struan had privately christened him Spots, since he was the young man with the most terrible face pimples Struan had ever seen. The other two were Spaniel—for his long, curly, untidy hair and hangdog face—and Chewer. Chewer always seemed to be moving his jaw, as if perpetually chewing.
Struan grinned at them all and held out his arms.
“There ye are, lads. Here I am. All ready to go. Who’s ready to train, eh?”
They scowled at him, and Spots lunged forward, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward.
Struan found himself being marched out onto a flat field behind the Keep. It was still within the walls, of course, toprevent any hope of escape. There was a long section of hardpacked earth where people could run and jog, as well as training posts and dummies for spear throwing, swordplay, knife throwing, arrow practice, and more. There were patches of earth that would doubtless be used for wrestling or hand-to-hand combat.
Of course, the training ground was empty now. Struan would have expected no less.
“What’s he to do out here?” he overheard Spaniel whispering to Spots. “Just run around? Do we have to fight him?”
“Not likely,” Spots snorted. “I don’t much care what he does, so long as he keeps himself entertained. I don’t think that Laird Kenneth cares, either.”
Movement caught Struan’s eye, and he paused, squinting.
Over on the running track, a small figure was sprinting up and down, a white shirt billowing around him. No, nothim. It was a woman, and it only took him an instant to figure out who.
Una.
His chest tightened, and no matter how firmly Struan tried to tell himself it was because he was looking forward to being able to run properly for the first time in weeks.
“What’s she doing out here?” Chewer whispered. “I thought it was meant to be just us.”
“Aye, well, she’s the Laird’s sister, so she does what she wants. Or shethinksshe does,” Spots snorted. “Not a bad-looking lass, though, eh?”
“Those clothes do nothing for her,” Spaniel snorted. “Ye can hardly see her paps in that shirt. What’s wrong with a proper gown, with a nice tight wee bodice, eh?”
There was a chorus of chuckles at that.
“I bet I could run faster than her,” Spots whispered, and now there was a nasty undertone in his voice, spiced with somethingdark. “It would be a real treat to catch her, if ye know what I mean.”
Struan spun around, towering over the three men.
“Oh, aye?” he hissed, his voice harsh. “Do ye think ye could run faster than me, lad? What’ll happen when I catchye?”
Spots shrank back, his jaw hanging slackly open. It gave Struan a grim satisfaction to see fear creep over his face.
I could snap his neck before he even reached for his sword.
“Struan!”
Una’s voice echoed across the field. They all glanced her way, and she broke into a jog, heading towards them. She hadn’t guessed that anything was wrong, judging by the lack of urgency in her stride.
Struan turned back to Spots, leaning over him. The younger man gave a squeak of alarm, eyes widening.
“Best be careful how ye speak of women, lad,” Struan whispered. “Ye never know who might be listening.”
Spots swallowed thickly and took the opportunity to back away, glancing over at his friends for support.
Una reached them, breathless and flushed from her run. She glanced around at them, something like wariness on her face.
“Struan, I thought we could run together. Men, ye stay over here and keep an eye out.”
