Page 58 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

"David!"

Tristan's shout came half a second before his practice sword connected with David's ribs. Not hard enough to injure through the padding, but hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs and leave him doubled over, gasping.

"What the hell was that?" Tristan lowered his sword, concern replacing irritation. "Ye just stood there."

"I was… " David wheezed. "Distracted."

"Distracted. Ye were distracted." Tristan jabbed a finger at him. "Ye never get distracted. I've fought beside ye in actual battles where men were tryin' tae kill us, and ye stayed focused. But now, in a friendly trainin' match, ye're distracted?"

David straightened slowly, pressing a hand to his ribs. "It happens."

"It daesnae happen. Nay tae ye." Tristan's eyes narrowed. "What's goin' on?"

"Naethin's goin' on."

"That's shite, and we both ken it." Tristan gestured at the other men training in the yard, purposely keeping enough distance to give their laird privacy, but close enough to watch with interest. "Ye've been off since we got back from Berwick. Even before the Cèilidh preparations started. What is it?"

"I told ye. Naethin'."

"Is it the king? Are ye worried about his response?"

"Nay."

"The clan? Are they givin' ye trouble about Lady Elinor?"

"Nay."

"Then what?" Tristan's expression shifted from irritation to something more concerned. "Talk tae me, David. We've been friends since we were lads. If somethin's wrong⁠—"

"Naethin's wrong!" The words came out sharper than David intended. He took a breath, forcing his voice level.

Tristan stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, his expression transformed into something that might have been understanding mixed with unholy amusement.

"Oh," he said. "Oh."

"What?"

"It's yer wife."

"I just said it's naething’"

"It's yer wife," Tristan repeated, his grin widening. "Nay the marriage or the politics or the king's threats. It's her. Lady Elinor specifically."

David felt heat creep up his neck. "I dinnae ken what ye're talkin' about."

"The hell ye dinnae." Tristan was outright laughing now. "Ye're attracted tae her."

"She's me wife. Of course I'm attracted tae her."

"Nay, I mean ye're attracted tae her. Like, properly. Nae just in a 'she's pleasant enough tae look at' way, but in a 'I cannae stop thinkin' about her' way." Tristan's eyes danced with mischief. "What did she dae? What happened?"

"Naethin' happened."

"Ye're a terrible liar when it comes tae women. Always have been. Remember when ye were fourteen⁠—"

"We're nae talkin' about when I was fourteen."

"So we're talkin' about now. About yer wife." Tristan lowered his sword completely, giving David his full attention. "Come on. What is it? What's got ye so twisted up ye cannae even block a simple strike?"