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“It must happen.”

“Says who?”

“My uncle.”

So that was what this meeting between her father and McCrae’s uncle was all about. “You really want my opinion?”

“I do.”

“The man who believes that a woman has no need for any knowledge of sword fighting suddenly wants to know my thoughts?”

“Are you always this difficult?”

“Most of the time.”

“I would still like to know your opinion. As you have oft pointed out, you have grown up around fencing and you have two eyes in your head. Very beautiful eyes, I might add.” He was doing it again, making her insides feel like ale mash at the same time as provoking a strong urge to punch him.

“Very well then,” she said warily, her mixed feelings apparent in the distance she kept between them. “From what I have observed of the Masters of Defense, they do not like change and are suspicious of outsiders. They hated the rapier and only took it up because they were losing so much business to the Spanish and Italians. They still disparage it loudly to anyone who will listen and that happened before I was born. My advice would be not to take things at a rush.”

“Our swordsmen use a broadsword, so we have more in common with the English Masters than any of the continentals.”

“Perhaps. But the English view the Scottish fighting techniques as little more advanced than the methods of Viking barbarians.”

He stopped walking and caught her by the arm, forcing her to stop and face him reluctantly.

“So you think of us as barbarians?” His gaze was so intense she looked away. Was he playing with her or seriously offended? Either way she was breaking out in another hot flush.

“Not you, personally, nor is it my personal opinion. I was making an observation about the attitude of the Masters of Defense toward novel methods of swordplay.”

“I shall bear that in mind for the meeting. Thank you for the advice.” She still could not tell if he was serious or mocking. Having voiced her opinion, she now doubted the wisdom of doing so. If she created more problems for her father than they already had, how could she ever make amends? Oh hang it all! Did men ever have any doubts about raising their voices or stating an opinion? Hardly, so why should she? She was sick of men and their concerns and the way they always thought their small dramas were so important. What of the two women who had been tied up and violated? What had happened to them was a far bigger issue, but no meetings would be held to improve their lot. The injustice gnawed at her gut, like a hunger needing to be filled. If she turned her back and did nothing, she would be just as bad as them.

Father was already deep in conversation with Sir Colin Cavendish by the time she arrived home with McCrae. Without being too obvious she swiftly appraised the older man. Cavendish had a wiry build and was much shorter than his nephew, but there was a similarity about the angle of the jawline and the shape of the eyes that hinted at the family connection. Although McCrae possessed an imposing height and breadth, it was his uncle who exuded a halo of power. He was clearly a man who expected his orders to be obeyed. At the same time as she appraised the Scottish Lord, she examined her father for any tell-tale signs of his affliction. Apart from his missing arm he looked to be in excellent health. With one worry crossed off her list she gave her attention to making a good impression. Being almost a head taller than Cavendish made it hard to appear either dainty or servile, but she endeavored to do her best for Father’s sake. She felt Cavendish’s eyes upon her the whole time she was surreptitiously assessing him. This staring at women, was it a Scottish custom or a family trait?

“Your daughter is a striking young woman,” Cavendish said to Father, speaking of her as if she was not actually present in the room.

“A beauty that can instantly strike a man down,” McCrae piped up, a smile of mischief twitching at the corner of his mouth. The current desire in her heart was to strike him with the back of her hand. Or her sword. Her swords. Oh no. They were still under wraps beneath her cloak. Bobbing a curtsy she excused herself. “I am sorry. I am remiss in my duties. Would you like me to bring refreshments?”

“An excellent idea,” Father beamed.

“You are blessed with such a docile daughter,” McCrae had the gall to add. It was childish, but only McCrae was facing her, so she stuck out her tongue at him on her retreat from the room. He had to choke back a splutter, but still the wretched man had the last laugh for when she turned back around to continue her exit, Grandma Jones appeared in the doorway, a frown of disapproval on her face.

“Take off your cloak and take this out to the men,” she said, “and then come back for the ale.” Grandma Jones already had a tray prepared with cheeses and pickle and the best bread the local baker could provide.

“Yes, Grandma.”

“And Lucinda,” she stiffened and paused, waiting for the admonition, “try to keep your tongue inside your lips.”

“I am sorry, but you heard what he said. He loves to mock me.”

“He called you a beauty.”

“Only to provoke and make a fool of me.”

“From where I stood you achieved that by yourself.” Shame-faced she reverted to her daughterly-hostess role, holding back the temptation to spit in McCrae’s mug. Once she calmed down, it occurred to her she could use her duties to her advantage. Checking on food supplies and topping up ale mugs was the perfect way to eavesdrop on the meeting. They would barely even register she was in the room.

Why is it so that the most promising plans are stunted when they are only just budding? No sooner had she decided on her course of action when a man arrived in a state of great distress requesting Grandmother’s immediate attention, to come to the aid of his daughter. After a whispered conversation Grandma Jones turned grim-faced to Lucinda. “Please explain to your father we are called away urgently. You had best come with me for this one.”

The distressed father was a blacksmith who had a forge the other side of Whitefriars, not far away at all. He furnished a few more details of the situation as they hurried along.

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