Chapter Twenty-One
The following morning,right after they’d broken their fast, the sword competition began. Everyone gathered to witness the duels, their breaths misting in the crisp air. Contestants faced off within the makeshift arena, each duel displaying skill and valor.
By noon, only two warriors remained undefeated: Brodie McClain, his eyes calm as the distant sea, and Moira McAfee, her red hair like a fiery banner. Ailis stood at the edge of the crowd, pride swelling within her as she watched her sister.
The three suitors—Bearnard, Lucas, and Horas—clustered near Ailis in disbelief. They had boasted of their prowess leading up to the tournament but were bested one by one. None had anticipated Moira’s blade slicing through all the men’s defenses with such grace.
Ailis couldn’t suppress a smile when Moira defeated Lucas. She savored it not for his defeat but for the glint of admiration that flickered in his eyes as he yielded to her sister’s superior skill.
The murmurs of the crowd hushed as the final match approached, anticipation heavy in the air. Ailis hummed softly, a tune meant for Moira alone. For now, she cast aside thoughts of duty and alliances, allowing herself to enjoy her sister’s impending triumph. Though she knew if anyone could defeat Moira, it was Brodie.
The clash of steel echoed through the air. Ailis focused on her sister Moira and Brodie as they engaged in a dangerous dance of swords, each strike met with a skillful parry.
Ailis observed the intense concentration on Brodie’s face as he locked eyes with Moira. His movements were elegant and strong, contrasting Moira’s fiery determination. The crowd held its breath, anticipating the result of their battle.
A sudden change in rhythm left Brodie vulnerable—Moira’s sword narrowly missed him. He dodged with impressive grace but stumbled onto the damp ground, defeated by Moira’s poised blade.
“Yield,” she commanded.
“I yield,” he responded, smiling despite his loss.
Moira offered a hand, assisting Brodie to his feet as an unmistakable gesture of respect between them. After Moira accepted her victory ribbon, Laird Gordon stepped forward, commanding attention.
“Let it be known,” he announced solemnly, “that all winners shall extend their stay for another seven days of celebration.” Excitement and curiosity spread through the crowd like wildfire. “We will honor these triumphs with feasts and merriment.”
As Ailis considered the implications of this extension, she couldn’t help but feel the anticipation. The coming week would bring challenges and revelations. She must prepare to face them with the same courage demonstrated today on the field of honor.
They would have more time to discover who the conspirators were, but they would also have the same difficulties they’d had since arrival. Perhaps they could meet at the same time every night to spend time together. She would discuss it with Moira and see what her sister thought.
Ailis exchanged a glance with her sister, Moira, emotions warring inside her. Was this additional time a blessing or an obstacle to their longing for home?
Their shared gaze was a wordless conversation only they could understand. Ailis was proud of Moira’s prowess but also fearful of the unknown that lay ahead.
As evening fell, the great hall filled with torchlight and tantalizing scents of roasted meats and spiced pies. Ailis took her place at the table, observing the assembly. Unfortunately, all three of the men who had been pestering them all week were there with them.
Lucas brooded despite the festivities. His eyes rarely left the trencher before him, occasionally darting toward Moira as if reliving his humiliation. The rigid set of his jaw and clenched fists betrayed his inner turmoil.
The other men who had not faced off against Moira teased him, but he refused to engage, instead eating his meal methodically and pretending he was alone.
His silence would have made the meal uncomfortable, but it didn’t bother Ailis and Moira at all. It was nice to not have the men talking about how they would never find husbands because of their warrior ways.
“Are ye sure Moira didn’t look different as ye lay on the ground after she defeated ye?” Bearnard asked, grinning at him.
Finally, Ailis had enough of the teasing. “Ye were defeated as well, remember. And not by the person who won the entire competition. Did ye forget?”
Bearnard frowned, annoyed that she’d brought up his own defeat.
“That’s true,” Horas replied. “Ye were bested too!”
“As were ye,” Moira pointed out. “Everyone who entered was. Mayhap ye will quit teasing yer friend about losing to a lass when ye remember that ye lost as easily as he did.” Moira didn’t brag about her win, but instead pointed out the facts of the men’s loss.
“Perhaps kindness would help all of ye get along better,” Ailis murmured. “There can only be one winner in a contest, andthough ye all thought it would be ye, it was Moira. And a McClain was right behind her. And ye say the McClains are not men we should marry.”
Lucas smiled a bit, obviously happy to see his friends bested as well.
As soon as the meal was over, Ailis and Moira excused themselves from the festivities and retreated into the night. Once away from prying eyes, they hurried to the secluded glen where Lachlan and Brodie awaited them. Ailis sighed with relief when the men came into view. It was so good to be with people she respected and away from the men who had been their constant companions whether they wanted them there or not.
Fiona and Alisdair joined them in the glen, their gazes filled with urgency. “Something is amiss,” Alisdair fretted. “The fathers of Bearnard, Lucas, and Horas—they are a part of the conspiracy against us. I have no idea what they are plotting, though. That’s yet to be found out.”
