"Aye. Mistress Snow tells all who will listen about your skill with a needle."
"I made her a gown because she had loaned me hers. But that does not make me less skilled in the ways of battle. I can handle a sword as well as you, Brice Campbell."
"Can you now?" Without warning he reached out and yanked the weapon from her hand. He sent it crashing to the floor before taking a step closer and facing her.
"So much for your skill with a sword." With a smile he half turned toward Jamie and winked.
"How will you defend yourself now, my lady?"
"With this." With a look of triumph she reached into the waistband of her skirt and removed a small, sharp dagger.
"So. You dare to conceal weapons. When you are within these walls, under my protection, you have no need of such things."
She gave him a chilling smile.
"It would seem that you forgot to tell Holden Mackay."
Brice flushed. Caught off guard, he advanced toward her.
She lifted the knife in a threatening gesture.
"I think you should be warned. I learned such skills at my father"s knee. Though I have no wish to harm you, I will not back away from a fight."
At the incongruous sight of the small, delicate figure facing down a giant of a man like Brice, Jamie burst into gales of laughter.
"What will you do now, Brice? Do you risk hurting Meredith just to prove you are the stronger, or do you let a Lowland la.s.s bully you with a dirk?"
Brice studied his opponent. She was perfectly composed. There was no hint of fear in her eyes. The hand holding the dagger was steady.
About her lips there was the merest hint of a smile.
"So, my lady, do you think, like Jamie, that you have me at a disadvantage?"
Her smile blossomed.
"Aye, my lord. I do. I think it is time to persuade you to release me to my people before they reach the Highlands and engage you in battle."
He moved so quickly she had time only to blink. With one hand he caught her wrist and swung her around. Both his arms came around her, crossing her arms beneath her bosom and pinning her to the length of him. The knife slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
His breath was hot against her temple as he pressed his lips to a tangle of hair and muttered,
"Now, my lady, I believe the advantage is mine. We will speak no more of releasing you to Gareth MacKenzie."
Her breath came out in a hiss of air, and although she struggled, she was held fast.
"It is not Gareth who will claim me. It is my own people."
His voice was low with anger.
"Who are now in league with the MacKenzies."
"If I am free, my people will follow me."
"A woman of strength and leadership, of course. As you have often pointed out to me."
Across the room Jamie laughed and clapped his hands. "Now what say you, Meredith? Do you admit defeat?"
She stopped fighting. The tremors that rocked her had nothing to do with combat. They had everything to do with the man who held her imprisoned in his arms.
"Aye, Jamie." She lowered her gaze, afraid the lad would see the fire that burned inside her at the nearness of her captor.
"Defeat perhaps. But only for the moment."
Against her temple Brice murmured,
"I will settle for even a fleeting moment of victory over you, my lady." He allowed his lips to linger while he inhaled the soft scent of her. His thumbs brushed the underside of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and he was startled by the rush of desire caused by even that slight contact.
He was aware of the tension in her and felt a thrill. Could it be that he was the cause of such feelings? Or was the lady merely tense at the thought of the battle yet to come?
With a smile he dropped his hands and stepped away. When she turned to him he gave a slight bow.
"I look forward to our next round of combat, my lady."
Meredith watched as he crossed the room and continued with Jamie as if they"d never been interrupted. How could he be so calm when her heart was near bursting?
She waited a moment longer until her heartbeat returned to normal.
Then she stalked from the room, unaware that Brice watched her every movement. But Jamie noted that Brice seemed distracted as he took up the weapons for another lesson in the art of defense. And long after she was gone, Brice stared at the closed door, deep in thought.
"Riders approach."
It was what Meredith had been fearing for days. The word was pa.s.sed from men perched atop high, rocky crags to others who concealed themselves in trees or behind boulders. Runners carried the warning to the guards posted at the door of Kinloch House.
Bands of Highlanders had roamed the forests for days, encountering only scattered cl.u.s.ters of armed Lowlanders. The bulk of Gareth MacKenzie"s army stayed close together, knowing there was safety in numbers. Their number made it impossible for the Highland warriors to attack. Instead, in groups of three and four, the men loyal to Brice Campbell watched and waited, and made their way back to Kinloch House, where their families awaited their safe return.
Inside the castle all was in readiness. Entire families had been ensconced in every room and made as comfortable as possible. No one knew how long they would be forced to endure such close quarters.
Even the sheep and livestock were brought inside the compound, to protect them from being slaughtered by the enemy. It was Brice"s intention that the enemy, denied all food save what they had brought with them, would soon be forced to withdraw and return to the Lowlands.
The women shared the duties of cooking and caring for the children, while the men honed their weapons to a fine edge and went out in cl.u.s.ters of twos and threes, attacking small bands of Lowlanders and then returning to the protection of the castle before dark.
Ch.o.r.es were a.s.signed to everyone except the youngest. Provisions had been stored in the dank dungeons below the castle, in case the women and children were forced to spend a prolonged time within its safe confines.
Meredith had hoped that Brice would relent and allow her a chamber of her own. She yearned for a few moments of privacy, away from this man who seemed to dominate her every moment, both waking and sleeping. But now that the others had taken over the rooms of the castle, there was no hope for such a luxury. She was forced to share Brice"s sitting chamber and bedchamber. At her insistence, she was allowed to sleep in a settle pulled before the fireplace rather than share Brice"s bed. But it did nothing to ease the tension between them. She was still achingly aware of the man whose soft breathing punctuated the darkness between them.
Their close quarters did allow her to see how carefully Brice prepared for the antic.i.p.ated attack. His weapons gleamed atop the mantel. The broadsword, a two-handed weapon with terrible killing power, had been honed until it was capable of severing a man"s head with a single blow.
A second weapon with a shorter blade and a basket-shaped hilt of gold encrusted with jewels, also displayed a razor- sharp edge. A longbow and quiver of arrows stood at the ready.
And though Brice possessed more than half a dozen dirks, each one had been sharpened to perfection.