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“I would call ye by yer name but I dunna know it.”

“And I’ll not tell you.”

He cocked his head. “Ye have an unruly mouth in the face of a man holding a sword tae yer neck,” he said. “Are ye truly so foolish? For certain, that is all I have seen from ye since the beginning.”

She sighed, the frown returning to her features. “If you are going to kill me, then get on with it.”

Jamison stared at her a moment longer. Then, he swiftly removed his sword and dropped it to the earth.

Before the woman could utter a word of protest, he went down on one knee and, still holding on to her hair, put her straight across his thigh.

Letting go of her hair, he held her down with that arm across her back as the other arm extended and, without hesitation, proceeded to spank her.

His big hand against her backside resounded off of the stone walls. The woman began to howl.

“Beast!” she screamed, fighting and twisting. “How dare you take a hand to me! You will be punished for this– ouch! ”

Jamison whaled on her buttocks, through the mail coat and through the breeches she was wearing.

It probably hurt his hand more than it hurt her backside, but that wasn’t the point.

She was terribly mannered and it was clear no one had ever disciplined her.

He was, therefore, pleased to be the first. It gave him a fiendish satisfaction to do so.

He whacked her a few more times before pushing her off his knee, straight into the mud.

“Ye need tae be spanked and spanked often,” he scolded as he picked up his sword and her smaller blade where it had fallen.

“I dunna know where ye got it intae yer silly head that it ’tis acceptable for a women tae behave as ye did, but ye’re a disgrace tae yer sex.

Now, get yerself intae the castle and I dunna want tae see yer face again.

If I do, I will spank ye as I just did, only harder the next time. Is this in any way unclear?”

The woman pushed herself up out of the mud, staggering to her feet and glaring daggers at Jamison. “I will fight with my men and you cannot stop me,” she seethed. “You do not command me.”

Jamison wasn’t going to argue with her. He took a step in her direction, threateningly, and watched her as she scrambled to get away from him.

He did it twice more, herding her back in the direction of the castle.

She would jump, keeping away from him, but she wouldn’t run.

She stood her ground as much as she could, unwilling to let him push her around.

They glared at each other, each one testing the mettle of the other– he wouldn’t chase after her and she wouldn’t run.

But she would, wisely, stay out of arm’s length.

It was quite a standoff.

With both portcullises open, Jamison’s men were starting to filter into the castle as the men from Four Crosses lingered by the gate, watching their lady warrior get a beating from the big Highlander.

In fact, Jamison was just taking another step in the lady’s direction, hopefully to scare her right back into the castle, when he heard a voice call his name.

“Munro? What in the hell are you doing?”

Jamison turned to see another de Lohr brother ride up.

Tobias de Lohr, Becket’s younger brother, sat on a wet, foaming charger, gazing down at Jamison as if the man had lost his mind.

Jamison could quickly see why– caught, as he was, harassing a woman who was supposed to be their ally.

It looked very bad for him and he knew it.

Quickly, he tried to think of a believable excuse but nothing he could come up with sounded plausible.

He could have gone for a full confession but, somehow, he thought that might make them all look quite foolish.

The lady attacked me so I spanked her . No, that wouldn’t do.

In any case, the truth probably wasn’t advisable.

Therefore, he simply forced a smile at the younger de Lohr brother.

“The lady and I had a misunderstanding,” he said. “All is well now.”

Tobias, another blonde and well-built de Lohr son, looked between Jamison and the lady in confusion. His attention finally settled on the woman. “Lady Havilland?” he said. “Are you… well?”

Havilland. So her name had been spoken for the Highlander to hear and she hadn’t intended for him to know it, ever. With a sigh of displeasure, Lady Havilland de Llion fixed on Tobias.

“I am very well,” she said snappishly. She pointed at Jamison. “Did you tell this… this brute to defend Four Crosses from inside the bailey?”

Tobias nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “Those were his orders. What… what are you doing out here? Why are you and your men not inside the castle?”

He was looking at Jamison as he said it.

Jamison, realizing he couldn’t explain away what had just happened any better than he already had, shook his head in frustration and tossed Havilland her sword, hilt first. He didn’t even care that he now knew her name, as beautiful as it was.

All he knew was that she had made him look like a fool. He began to walk away.

“We were dancing,” he muttered sarcastically as he headed towards the open portcullis, “but she likes tae lead. I willna dance with a woman who leads.”

It made no sense to Tobias, who looked at Havilland curiously.

Havilland, however, was looking at the massive Scotsman as he slogged through the mud towards the gatehouse of Four Crosses.

There was malice in her expression but there was also something more, something that might have been interest but she kept it well guarded.

Her gaze lingered on the redheaded warrior.

“ Who is that man?” she asked. “And why do you have Scotsmen serving in your ranks?”

Tobias turned to glance at the hulking figure of Jamison as the man began shouting orders to his men. “They call him The Red Lion,” he said, a hint of awe in his tone. “Have you never heard of the man before?”

“I have not. Should I?”

Tobias shrugged. “His name is Jamison Munro, son of the chief of Clan Munro,” he said.

“He is a great warrior, fostered and trained with the House of de Lohr. In fact, he is part of a group of Scots that fostered at Lioncross several years ago, placed there by King Henry. Sons of clan chiefs, they were, and they called themselves the Lions of the Highlands. Jamison was their leader. I remember looking up to them, so very much. They are men I both admired and feared in my youth.”

Havilland’s gaze moved from the big Scotsman near the gatehouse back to Tobias. “Scots fostered at Lioncross?” she repeated. “I had not heard this. They did not stay there, did they?”

Tobias shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “When they came of age, they went their separate ways. Jamison was a squire to my Uncle Arthur and when Arthur went to fight in France, Jamison went with him. I think he spent more time there than in England. And the others– there were three more– returned to Scotland, although I have seen them at Lioncross from time to time. My father still considers them his vassals. They were a fearsome pride, the four of them. They scared us young squires and pages to death. Munro, Sutherland, Ross, and Mackay… funny, I’ve not thought of the Lions of the Highlands in many years. ”

Havilland’s gaze moved from Tobias back to the big Scotsman, now waving an impatient hand at men who weren’t moving fast enough. “Were they brutes, then?”

“Nay, simply intimidating young knights.”

Havilland cocked her head. “Munro,” she muttered thoughtfully. “A chief’s son, you said?”

Tobias shook his head. “Indeed,” he said. Then, he eyed her curiously. “Clan Munro breeds fearsome warriors, you know. Why was he chasing you? Did you make him angry?”

Havilland turned to look at the young de Lohr brother.

She had known him for a few years but she didn’t know him well.

He had come to Four Crosses on occasion, on business for his father, as had the other de Lohr sons from time to time.

A few times, they had even sent de Lohr knights, who were not a part of their family, to conduct business but she had never seen the big Scotsman.

She would have remembered. Although she counted herself fortunate in that she’d never encountered him before, in the same breath, she wasn’t hard-pressed to admit that the man was rather handsome.

His red hair and pale skin was rather beautiful.

But it was a thought she hated herself for; any man who would threaten and then spank her was no one she should be wasting her thoughts on.

“How many men are you sending into my bailey?” she asked, changing the subject. “We cannot feed more than a few hundred should we get boxed in.”

Tobias shook his head, not unaware that she had shifted the focus.

“Jamison has about four or five hundred under his command,” he said, glancing over his shoulder towards the south.

“The Welsh are moving in with ladders from the south. If they are able to mount the walls, you will be happy to have those men inside and you will be happy to have Jamison in command of them. Where are your sisters, by the way?”

Havilland was already moving back towards the gatehouse. “On the wall,” she said, turning to Tobias even as she walked. “Madeline and Amaline have command of the gatehouse and the wall. I have command of the bailey.”

Tobias simply shook his head. “I will never understand why your father allows you three women to fight with his men,” he said. “He has enough competent men in his army. Where is Roald, by the way?”

Havilland gestured towards the castle. “Inside,” she said. “Although he is quite ill. He does not see visitors these days.”

“He has been very ill as of late.”

“I know.”

Tobias didn’t push the subject of Roald, which had become a rather odd subject recently, as if the sisters did not wish to discuss him.

They would mention he was ill and quickly change the subject, just as Havilland was doing.

But that was something for Tobias’ father to deal with, not him.

He was focused on other things in his life, in particular, the eldest de Llion sister.

He thought she was rather special, which brought him back to the subject of her taking up arms.

“Then you will give your father my best wishes for his health,” he said, “and tell him that my father thinks it is a travesty that he allows you and your sisters to fight.”

Havilland grinned, a very lovely grin on her grimy face. “What does your mother say to that?”

“She smacks him every time he says it.”

Havilland burst out laughing before racing back to the gatehouse, unwilling to discuss her father any further.

She didn’t want the conversation to turn into something she couldn’t control.

She made it inside just as the de Llion men began to close the fanged iron grates, disappearing into the darkness beyond.

As Tobias headed back to the remaining de Lohr men still maintaining a perimeter around the walls of Four Crosses, his thoughts lingered on the three beautiful de Llion sisters who fought as men because their father had never had any sons.

A travesty , Chris de Lohr had said repeatedly. A travesty because those three lovely young women would make my sons excellent wives, but no man wants a wife who can best him in a fight.

Frankly, Tobias didn’t care if Havilland could best him or not.

He’d take her, anyway.