Page 19 of Highland Steel

“Well, I dinna ken,” he said, eyeing up the boy. He was tall, had a good build on him for a young man, but his face was smooth with not even a hint of whiskers. “He looks to be mayhap five and ten years, at least four and ten if he’s a squire.”

“I told you, he’s not a squire.” Her hands went to her hips. “Newell is big for his age, and twice as clumsy as most eleven-year-old boys.”

“The lad is only eleven?” Logan made a face and surveyed the boy again. “How old is yer sister?”

“Blaine is the one who is four and ten, not Newell.”

“I see.” He nodded and looked over to her next. He couldn’t help it. His eyes traveled down her curvaceous body and back up again to her bonnie face. “Then how old are ye? Ten?” he asked with a smile.

“Not funny,” she spat, taking a leather tie from her pouch and pulling back her long hair. “I am eight and ten years of age. So how old are you?”

“Two and twenty,” he told her. “But no’ old enough no’ to be fooled by the likes of ye three, I guess. What other secrets are ye keepin’ from me?” His eyes traveled down to her sword again, and he couldn’t help wondering if she really knew how to use it.

As if she read his mind, her hand went to the hilt and, in one motion, she unsheathed it. Logan jerked backward so as not to be nicked.

“Blethers, lassie, what are ye doin’?” He noticed from the corners of his eyes everyone had stopped and were looking in their direction.

“Unsheathe your sword,” she told him.

“What? Nay!” he spat. “Ye are a lady, so dinna think I’m goin’ to fight ye.”

“If you think I’m lying to you and keeping secrets, then spar with me and you’ll see that what I say is true.”

“All right, all right, I believe ye,” said Logan with a chuckle. He looked over to his friends who were smiling as well. “Let’s water the horses and be on our way.” He started to walk away, but stopped when he felt the prick of the tip of her sword against his back. He turned around slowly. “Put that thing away,” he warned her in a low voice.

“Not until I am allowed to show you that I can use the blade.”

“If ye’re tryin’ to provoke me, it’s workin’.”

“Good.” She smiled and once again pricked him with the tip of the sword, using two hands to hold it.

“Go on, Logan. I’d like to see this,” Ethan called out.

“Me, too,” Caleb echoed.

“Nay,” growled Hawke. “Someone will get hurt.”

“That’s right, but it won’t be me getting hurt, I assure you,” said Rhoswen, sounding so arrogant that Logan knew there was no other way to stop this nonsense.

“If ye need to prove yerself, then by all means, go ahead. But it’s only for yer benefit, no’ mine.” Logan drew his sword. When he looked over to his friends and shook his head, she used it to her advantage. He turned back to see her sword coming right at him. He lifted his blade to block her, and the sound of metal against metal rang through the air.

“What the hell is the matter with ye?” snarled Logan, thinking the girl had lost her mind. “Ye almost act like ye want to hurt me.”

“Nay, I don’t want to do that,” she assured him, swinging her sword around, and causing him to block her again. “I just want you to know what I’m capable of doing, that’s all.”

Logan didn’t want to fight her. She was a girl for God’s sake! But with his friends urging him on and her siblings calling out to her, he got caught up in the moment.

“Ye’re no’ bad . . . for a wench,” he said, sparring with her, but of course holding back. She was quick and had a good grip and flexible wrist action. But if he fought the way he usually did, he could kill her in seconds.

“I trained with my father since I was old enough to hold the sword.” They did a sparring dance, sword hitting sword, their bodies turning in a counterclockwise motion.

“Ye mean he taught ye to fight but he didna teach his son?” asked Logan.

“I know how to use a sword,” Newell called out. “It’s my turn. Let me try it.”

“Nay, lad,” said Hawke, holding the boy from running forward. “Enough of this nonsense. It’ll be dark soon. If we pick up the pace we can get back to camp just before sunset.”

“I agree,” said Logan, striking her sword in such a way that she couldn’t hold it. The action sent it flying up in the air, over their heads. Logan reached out with his left hand and caught her sword. Then he handed it to her, hilt first. The look on her face was pure shock.