Page 36 of Highlanders for the Holidays
“Indeed?” The laird stroked his beard in speculation. “And have ye put coin on it?”
He waved away the idea. “Nae, ‘tis only a matter o’ pride.”
The laird’s eyes were glittering now. “Pride? Ach! There’s coin to be made on a wager like that.”
“Perhaps.”
Laird Gille chortled. “Not to mention it could be an amusin’ sight—Caimbeul with a sword.”
No?l bit back his distaste. “So do ye think he’ll agree?”
“Oh, aye, I can get him to agree.”
“After breakfast then? In the courtyard?”
“Aye.” The laird gleefully rubbed his hands together and left to fetch Caimbeul.
No?l didn’t tell Ysenda what he was up to. She’d only try to interfere, to protect her brother. She’d find out soon enough anyway.
The knights were exercising in the courtyard, and the sun was dancing along the tops of the distant pines when Caimbeul, no longer in chains, came limping and lurching briskly across the yard, leaning on a gnarled staff.
No?l studied him. But instead of noting the flaws in his gait, he looked for the man’s strengths.
Of course, No?l’s men hadn’t really issued that challenge. They knew No?l well enough to realize he could turn any man into a fighter. Instead, they welcomed Caimbeul onto the field with open arms and ready blades.
Laird Gille had servants bring him a chair so he could sit on the sidelines. He probably imagined he was about to see a horrific and entertaining spectacle. A small crowd of men gathered around. No?l could see them exchanging coins, betting on the outcome.
By the time Caimbeul reached No?l, his face was an angry shade of red, and his eyes were full of rage.
“Is this how ye repay me for tellin’ the truth?” he bit out. “By makin’ sport o’ me?”
“Not at all, brother,” No?l said in quiet reassurance. “I’m goin’ to teach ye to fight properly…so ye won’t have to be afraid o’ your father anymore.”
Caimbeul blinked in surprise. For an instant, hope flared in his eyes. Then they darkened with cynicism. “I’m a cripple. I can’t fight.”
“Ye threw a fair clout at me last night. If it hadn’t been for the shackle, ye would have flattened me.”
Caimbeul almost looked pleased at that.
“Come on,” No?l urged, clapping him carefully on the shoulder. “Let’s show your father what ye’ve got.”
The lad fell a few times. His father laughed. But each time, No?l and his knights bolstered the young man’s courage and heart, assuring him he was making good progress.
And he was. He might not have the stature to wield a broadsword with great precision, power, or speed. But he had surprise on his side.
Anyone looking at Caimbeul would imagine he couldn’t defend himself. But even with his twisted frame, he could thrust forward with a dagger, cuff a man squarely on the nose, and kick an attacker’s legs out from under him.
Indeed, Laird Gille started to frown as Caimbeul managed to not only stay on his feet, but to knock a few of the knights off theirs.
It was then that Ysenda arrived.
But to No?l’s chagrin, the wide grin of triumphant pride and cheery salutation he gave her was withered by her scowl of pure fury.
