Page 220 of Wicked Highland Heroes

The big man grunted. “Aye, but ye need a real man to do the job.”

Talbot planted his axe head first on the ground and met his gaze. “I assume you mean yourself.”

Angus strode to where Boyd stood opposite St. Claire. “Lad, ye are no’ doing it right.” He took the axe from the younger man, waved him aside, and stepped up to the tree. Half a dozen men on their way to the practice field stopped to watch. “Put your back into it.” Angus swung the axe with such force that a large chunk of wood flew from the trunk. “I am surprised your laird didna’ teach ye that.” He looked at Talbot and grinned.

“I take that to be a challenge,” Talbot said.

“I wouldna’ want to embarrass ye.” Angus’ grin widened.

“I do not embarrass easily. The first man to split the trunk?”

“I will even give ye a head start and let you continue with the scratch you made in the wood.” Angus lifted his brows in question.

“That will not be necessary,” Talbot said.

More men, a mixture of Highlanders and English, gathered around them.

“Unless you feel the need to have the head start,” Talbot said.

“That is good of ye, St. Claire, but I will manage.”

They took their places at opposite ends of the trunk.

“Malcom,” Talbot said, “if you would say the word.”

Talbot and Angus gripped their axes. Malcom glanced between them, then shouted, “Go!”

Both men swung their axes, hitting the wood with jarring force. Onlookers began to shout and, with each blow, Talbot noticed the crowd grew. Amidst their cries, bets passed as to who would win. He angled his axe first left, then right, and his gash deepened with every strike. Angus swung over and over, brute strength an advantage Talbot couldn’t match blow for blow. But it took more than brute strength to win a battle.

“God’s teeth, St. Claire, use some muscle,” Rhoslyn shouted.

He flicked a glance her way. She glared as fiercely as the men. But she cheered for him. As the blows fell faster, the shouts grew more intense. Finally, a large crack split the air and for an instant he feared Angus had beat him, but another blow to the wood and his end of the trunk struck the ground with a thud.

Cheers went up and he looked up to see Angus’ end had also fallen to the ground. The crowd surged forward, a chorus of voices arguing over whose log hit the ground first. Angus looked at Talbot, grinned, then shrugged. Talbot shifted his gaze toward Rhoslyn. She shook her head as if in reprimand, but he was sure he saw a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

Angus elbowed his way through the crowd to Talbot and clapped him on the back. “Have ye any rope, St. Claire? We had best show these lads how to haul these logs away.”

“You do not wish to cut it yourself?” Talbot asked.

Angus gave a hearty laugh. “Ye have bollocks, lad. Nay, I think we should haul it away from the storeroom, then have a drink and discuss business.”

Talbot felt certain his wife would be pleased with that.

* * *

The door in the private solar opened behind Rhoslyn. “Ye may leave the wine on the table,” she said without looking up from the household rolls.

“I did not bring wine. I can fetch some, if you like.”

Rhoslyn snapped her head up and met St. Claire’s dark eyes. “I thought ye were one of the maids.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“Nay. I simply was no’ expecting you. Is something wrong?”

“Need something be wrong for a husband to visit his wife?”

Her treacherous heart beat faster. He was calling her wife. He’d begun to make a habit of it: When Elizabeth visited two days past. Yesterday afternoon in the kitchen. Last night in the great hall when she announced she intended to retire. And now today.