Chapter 21

Jenefer glanced down at the bundle of her clothes. She couldn’t decide which she’d rather do. Refuse the clothing, thus denying him his own leine? Or tear his garment from her at once, telling him it stank of the Highlands?

In the end, she was too grateful for the warm breakfast to be rude. So she simply took the bundle and placed it on the bed. Then, swallowing down the last bite of her second oatcake, she whipped the borrowed leine off over her head and held it out to him.

The flash of shock in his eyes was amusing. Was this the same man who’d picked her up and carried her naked on his hip, then straddled her to force her into his leine? He looked as if he’d never seen an unclad lass before.

A merciful woman might have lowered her gaze and modestly covered herself.

But she wasn’t feeling particularly merciful toward the man who’d usurped her castle. Besides, she found his discomfiture highly entertaining. So she challenged him with a half-grin and a steadfast gaze, observing his unease, waiting for him to claim his leine.

His jaw tensed. His nostrils flared. He compressed his lips.

But to her surprise, as uncomfortable as he appeared, he eventually met her gaze and held it. Resisting the urge to feast his eyes on her womanly attributes, he instead pinned her with a steely stare.

How he then turned the tables on her and made her suddenly feel ill-at-ease was a mystery. But as the moments dragged on, it began to take all her strength of will to stay focused on his smoky, unwavering gaze.

As he continued to lock eyes with her, she felt a curious warmth rush over her body, as if he’d set fire to her flesh. Her ears burned. Her cheeks turned to flame.

Then the stony-eyed devil reached up and loosened the laces of his cotun.

Her smile froze.

Never breaking eye contact, he hauled off the cotun and tossed it onto the bed, leaving his chest bare.

She gulped.

Surely he didn’t mean to ravage her. Not now. Not when her uncle was on his way with an army.

Though she didn’t let her eyes dip, she was all too aware of his powerful shoulders.

His broad chest.

The arms that could hold her down and bend her to his will.

He tormented her a moment longer. And then, with a knowing twinkle in his eyes, he snatched his leine from her and slipped it over his head.

He donned his cotun over the leine and fastened the ties.

Jenefer, however, was still naked when Feiyan returned from the garderobe.

Feiyan gave her a cursory and unsurprised glance and proceeded to the table. “Oatcakes!” she cried. “Did you leave any for me?”

Jenefer was too rattled to reply as she began fumbling into her own clothes with shaking hands.

Suddenly, her appetite was gone. She felt flustered. Unsteady. Off-kilter. She could hardly tie her laces.

To all appearances, Morgan suffered no such affliction, which made her even more vexed.

“I’m postin’ a guard at the door,” he warned them, “but I’m sure ye think ye can somehow outwit or outfight him. Ye told me ye were women of honor. Prove that. Swear to me ye’ll not flee, and I’ll do my best to find your cousin.”

“I swear,” Feiyan said readily, taking a sip of ale as if in salute.

Jenefer wasn’t so sure. She didn’t want Hallie to be found. But she didn’t want to reveal that Rivenloch’s army was on its way either.

“Fine,” she said. “I swear.”

She couldn’t take a proper breath until Morgan was out of the room. And it didn’t help her mood when Feiyan pointed out the laces of her surcoat were tied wrong.

But her appetite did return. She managed to consume the four oatcakes Feiyan left her.

Once her hunger was sated, she was more eager than ever to come up with a battle strategy. She needed to get rid of Morgan Mor mac Giric as soon as possible. He was dangerous.

“We only swore we wouldn’t flee,” she said to Feiyan, who was currently gazing out the window. “We didn’t say anything about leaving this particular bedchamber.”

“You know that’s what he meant,” she said, arching a brow at Jenefer. “He posted a guard outside the door.”

“A guard we could dispatch easily.”

“And then what?” Feiyan returned her attention to something on the ground outside the window.

Jenefer crossed her arms. “I thought you agreed we should be preparing for battle.”

Feiyan bit her lip. “Aye, well, about that…”

“What is it?”

Feiyan motioned her over and nodded to the far end of the curtain wall, which enclosed a small practice field.

Jenefer peered down at the men on the field. There were only a dozen, but every one of them looked like a great beast, almost as large as Morgan. They were doing drills. Their feet pounded the sod as they advanced with their targes before them. In their powerful arms, the huge and heavy claymores sliced through the air as easily as a swallow’s wing. The blades flashed in the morning sunlight. A collective rumble rolled like thunder as they grunted and lunged, roared and thrust.

They might be lacking in number, and there was little coordination in their fighting. But they resembled a formidable pack of wild wolves. Capable of intimidating by sheer size and aggression. Brutal and bloodthirsty. Eager to tear their prey limb from limb.

Even bold Jenefer was taken aback by the sight. One warrior that size she could handle. With Feiyan’s help, she might cope with three. But even her expert swordsmanship and Feiyan’s clever agility were no match for this monstrous horde.

Still, she wasn’t about to admit defeat. She knew winning Creagor wouldn’t be easy.

“They don’t even have proper armor,” she scoffed. They fought in padded cotuns and trews, without armor plate or chain mail. “Besides, Hallie is going to bring the entire force of Rivenloch. No one can stand against Uncle Pagan’s army.”

“An army will be useless if the Highlander holds us hostage.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure he can’t.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” she said, gesturing again to the massive warriors below.

“You tell me. You’re always saying ’tis a matter of mind o’er muscle.”

Feiyan gave her an icy glare and backed away from the window. “I’ll have to ponder on it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must do my taijiquan.”

Jenefer sighed. The strange exercises Feiyan did every morning seemed utterly useless to her. As far as she could see, they neither strengthened her body nor improved her aim. Sometimes Jenefer wondered if Feiyan’s old teacher from the Orient made her do them just for amusement.

She half-watched while Feiyan flexed her knees and swept her arms in wide arcs, turned slowly to draw strange shapes in the air and then sank into a lunge. But mostly Jenefer was intrigued by the practice going on in the yard below.

It was wise to know one’s enemy. And what better way than to observe that enemy as they trained for battle?

Of course, the Highlanders had no idea how soon they’d need those skills. Only she and Feiyan were aware that the men of Rivenloch were on their way.

She lowered her brows. At least, she hoped they were on their way. It seemed like they should have been here by now.

She wondered how long ago Hallie had left. She trusted her cousin had made it to Rivenloch. She wouldn’t have let herself be waylaid by outlaws. And no matter who Morgan had sent to hunt for her, if Hallie didn’t wish to be found, she wouldn’t be.

Still, it troubled Jenefer not to be in control of the situation. Hallie was missing. Morgan was out of her sight. She was confined to this chamber. Worst of all, she had no bow, no sword, not even a dagger to face the oncoming threat.

She sighed.

Feiyan, focused on her movement, slowly separated her arms as if she were swimming through a bowl of pottage. Then she seemed to draw an invisible bow.

Suddenly the babe next door began to cry. Feiyan, startled by the sound, jolted out of her pose, making it look like she’d fired an invisible bolt from her invisible bow.

Jenefer couldn’t help but snicker. The babe must have finished his breakfast and was ready to begin his duties of disturbing the household.

Feiyan didn’t find it amusing in the least. Her exercises disrupted, she reacted by cuffing Jenefer on the shoulder with the heel of her hand.

Jenefer was surprised at the power behind Feiyan’s small fist.

“Hey!” she yelled, thwacking her cousin on the back of the head in return.

Faster than lightning, Feiyan seized Jenefer’s hand and gave it a painful twist.

Then, before Jenefer could clout Feiyan with her free hand, Feiyan squeezed the knuckle of Jenefer’s little finger. Jenefer gasped as the sharp twinge brought her to her knees.

Miles had begun to cry in earnest now. His wails came in through the open shutters as Jenefer knelt in pain and frustration, at Feiyan’s mercy.

But Feiyan’s cunning tricks were no match for Jenefer’s might. Ignoring the agony in her finger, bent to its breaking point, she heaved her weight forward and bowled Feiyan over onto the bed.

Then she sprang up, shaking the ache from her abused finger, and glared down in triumph at her cousin.

Feiyan, not to be outdone, propelled her feet forward with great speed and force into Jenefer’s belly.

Jenefer, folded in half by the blow, staggered back. She clutched her aching stomach, fearing for a moment she might lose the breakfast she’d just eaten.

Then, driven mad with frustration that she couldn’t vanquish her pesky mite of a cousin, she barreled forward, intending to flatten Feiyan on the pallet.

But as she lunged forward, Feiyan rolled aside and Jenefer got a face full of fleece. And while she lay on her belly, Feiyan pinioned Jenefer’s arm behind her.

Jenefer grimaced in pain as her shoulder began to throb. Levering up on her free hand, with one great heave, she pushed Feiyan off of her, then scrambled to pin her to the pallet, holding her there by the throat.

While Feiyan’s eyes went wide, Jenefer cocked back her fist, threatening to plow it into Feiyan’s bonnie face.

A knock at the door made them both freeze.