Page 9 of Laird of Steel
The Darragh knights gaped at her as if she were mad.
“For nigh half an hour,” she said, “I’ve listened to your boasts and brags. Heard all about how ye knocked this knight from his saddle. And flung that warrior’s sword across the field. How ye outwitted Sir Clever. And outlasted Laird Tireless. How ye pummeled Sir Forget-Me-Not into oblivion.”
Gellir was struck dumb.
“But ’tis all talk,” she said. “Why not put your mettle where your mouth is? What good are words without deeds? Tales are only tales. The proof is on the field o’ battle. Wouldn’t ye agree?”
The lads silenced, awaiting his response with bated breath.
She expected Gellir to stammer out an excuse. To refuse the challenge. Instead, she was surprised by the glittering star that sparkled in the stormy sky of his eyes.
The wily devil had been hoping for this. A challenge. A dare.
Of course, she thought. How could she have believed otherwise? Gellir was a warrior. A person of action, not words. He didn’t want to talk about fighting. He wanted to fight. He had always preferred to speak with his sword.
“I do agree,” he announced. “So who will fight me?”
Merraid knew no one would pick up the gauntlet of “the greatest warrior who’d ever lived.” To do so would guarantee a humiliating loss. Perhaps even worse, it might incur the magnificent Gellir’s disappointment.
“Come on, lads,” he coaxed. “Surely someone thinks they can best me.”
The men shuffled uncomfortably.
“Is there no one up to the task?” he asked.
The warriors murmured amongst themselves.
Merraid smirked.
Only one person was not afraid of losing.
Only one person didn’t crave the high-and-mighty Gellir’s approval.
Hers was a bold decision. Daring. Brazen. All the things that would have mortified fifteen-year-old Merraid.
But it was time Gellir met the saucy woman she’d become. The Merraid who could keep scoundrels at bay with a smoldering glance. Who could cut knaves to pieces with a sharp tongue. Who could lay villains flat on their backs with a single blow.
Summoning the courage of the Rivenloch warrior maid who had taught her all she knew, Merraid smiled and said, “I’ll fight ye.”
Chapter 2
“You?” Gellir scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I won’t fight a…”
Merraid lifted a brow. Was he going to say “a woman”? Surely, coming from a clan full of female warriors, he didn’t dare.
“A maidservant,” he finished.
“Why not?” she said, scornfully crossing her arms. “Are ye afraid?”
The Darragh warriors scoffed at the notion.
“Hardly,” he said.
“Then why not fight me?”
“What will you fight with?” he asked. “A broom and a mop bucket?”
The warriors laughed again.
