Page 104 of The Speed of Lightning
Balder grinned. “Ye look like a choleric auld coigreach.”
Behind Hector, Iain and Murdoch burst into laughter.
Heat pricked Calum’s neck, his temper flaring at how deeply the jibe landed. “Why is my appearance of such fascination to everyone?”
Hector cocked a brow. “Because you’ve changed much since we first met.”
“I was eighteen when we first met. Of course I have.”
“Aye, back then you were…” Hector gestured with one large hand, letting the thought hang.
“Warlike. Zealous,” Murdoch offered.
Hector nodded. “Confident. Imposing. You were who you were—and the world was left to reckon with it.”
“As sharp as a spear,” Iain added, splashing through the knee-deep water toward the beach.
Calum felt a stab to his pride. “I am sharp as a spear. Perhaps ye’d like to test me, MacLeod?”
Iain chuckled, shaking his head. “Whit? An’ pick ma broken teeth off the ground wi’ ma broken fingers? D’ye take me for a fool? Ye may no’ look the same, but that auld temper’s still burnin’ in ye somewhere. I mind how ye used tae throttle men for speakin’ ill o’ yer clan—or their appearance. We used tae shoogle in oor boots just catchin’ yer eye… an’ noo…”
A dark heat stirred in Calum’s chest. MacLeod was skirting too close to auld wounds.
Doc snapped his fingers. “Like ye ken the storms are comin’, just by the ache in yer auld knee.”
All the men around him murmured agreement, and his mood turned darker.
Balder pressed on, an arrogant gleam in his eye. “A man ought to look as sharp as his steel, whether he goes to feast or to fight. Did ye no’ notice the way Freya kept remarking on my handsomeness last week? Do ye no’ care to look fit for your own wife?”
Calum tightened his hand around his sword. He had noticed it—and he hadn’t liked it. Nor had he liked her compliments on Balder’s fletter and the adornments threaded through it. Was that the sort of man Freya wanted? He stopped himself mid-thought, feeling absurd. She had shown nothing but enthusiasm for him the past week—markedly so.
“I look like a man with little time to waste on such nonsense. Are we here to train, or no’?”
Balder raised both hands in mock surrender. “Aye, that we are.”
Hector gave a curt nod. “Form them up. Let’s see what progress they’ve made in two weeks.”
Calum slipped two fingers in his mouth and blew a piercing whistle. “Fall in.”
At once the thirty men moved into formation, five paces from Hector. Iain, Murdoch, and Calum each stepped to their squads. A glowing beam of pride rose in Calum’s chest. These Jurans were unrecognizable from the raw recruits of months before. Looking at them now, he knew they would follow him anywhere—and the thought heartened him for what lay ahead.
Hector nodded, giving Calum the signal.
“From front to rear—count off!”
The first man in each row snapped his head and called the number. “One!” The count rolled down the lines until all thirty stood numbered.
“Even numbers—left! Uncover!”
Half the men stepped sideways, forming staggered lines, squared and ready.
“Salute.”
Each dropped his chin, crossing a hand over his breast.
Calum gave a single nod. “Stand easy.”
The men shifted into rest, hands clasped behind their backs.
