Page 55 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

“… archery, but Lady Pilbury’s friend said that ladies cannae shoot bows and arrows. Can I learn to shoot a bow and arrow?”

“Of course,” Hunter responded. “Me sister is very good at shooting arrows.”

Willow twisted to look up at him. “Ye have a sister?”

“Aye, I do.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s in another keep, with her husband.”

“Will I meet her?”

“I’ll make sure that ye do.”

With a pang of guilt, Hunter realized that he hadn’t even thought of writing to Skye about his daughter. How would he even start? He and his sister had told each other everything, once upon a time.

Of course, lately, things had changed. She had her husband to think about and her own keep to run. She had worries of her own, and no doubt secrets too.

He missed his sister more than he cared to let her know. Nobody needed to know. Skye was safe and happy, and nothing else mattered.

They reached the courtyard, and Willow paused, glancing around, obviously at a loss as to where to go next. She twisted around to peer questioningly up at him.

“This way, lassie,” he murmured, bending down and scooping her up into his arms, lifting her high enough to sit on his shoulder. “We train on some fields around the back of the keep. It’s wise to keep a distance, because we throw javelins and practice archery.”

“Can I try throwing a javelin?”

He suppressed a smile. “Let’s decide when ye get there.”

He strode around the keep, and the training fields opened up before them. Rain had fallen recently, leaving the grass bright green and fresh-smelling. A handful of men sparred at the opposite end of the field. They paused when they saw him, glancing at him questioningly.

“As ye were, lads,” Hunter called, carrying Willow to the armory.

The armory was little more than a shed, although it was guarded by no less than four soldiers at all times. The soldiers in question stepped aside at once when they saw him, bowing deferentially. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, revealing a long wooden building filled with weapons.

Swords of all kinds hung on the wall, recently sharpened. Alongside them were javelins, pikes, maces, axes, and of course various types of shields. Quivers of arrows covered one particular wall, and the bows hung neatly in front.

Of course, the wooden training weapons and staves were closer to the door, to make them easier to grab. Gently, Hunter set Willow down on her feet.

She stared around her, open-mouthed. “There are so many,” she breathed.

“Aye, but this is only about half of the weapons in the keep.”

She swung around to face him. “There are more?”

He nodded. “Most soldiers keep their weapons in their quarters. After all, if ye buy yerself a nice sword, ye daenae want anybody to be able to get their hands on it. There is another armory inside the keep. This one is used for training, mostly, and for storing the guards’ weapons.”

“I want a sword!” she cried, running toward the rows of glittering silver blades.

Hunter yelped in alarm and hustled after her, seizing her before she was able to touch the edges. “Ye must never come near these, Willow, do ye hear?”

She pouted. “Why nae?”

“They are very sharp and very heavy. When ye are older, I’ll have a fine sword made for ye, just like this. But until ye are bigger, ye just arenae strong enough to lift one.”

“I could try.”

He gave a wry smile and unhooked a sword from the wall. Setting it carefully point down, he peered down at her. “Still think ye could lift it?”