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Now, he had woman against woman as he controlled the dark-haired woman like a puppet.

As the dark-haired woman screamed in pain, Jamison manipulated her sword hand so he was slashing brutally at the redhead.

The redhead, for her part, had gone from supremely aggressive to supremely uncertain as Jamison used the dark-haired woman to attack her.

In fact, she was so caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events and so distressed to see what was happening to the dark-haired woman, that Jamison was able to effectively disarm her.

In fact, he’d managed to disarm both women swiftly and now, grabbing both by the hair, dragged his kicking and fighting captives back into the darkened stable yard.

They were a handful, he had to admit, but he was much bigger and much stronger. As they fought against him, he was able to pull them into the nearest empty stall. Filled with damp, dirty straw, his gaze fell upon a leather harness hanging on a peg, a harness that had several loose leather straps.

Seized with an idea, Jamison threw the redhead to the ground, face-first into the dirty straw, and put his foot on her hair, trapping her against the ground.

As she fought and screamed and beat at his booted foot, he used his free hand to grab the loose leather straps and proceeded to tie the dark-haired woman to the shoulder-high wall that divided the stalls.

The dark-haired woman was wily, however, and he had to use his weight to trap her against the wooden post as he tied her hands behind her, lashing her to the wood.

Her feet were free but any kicking she did managed to hit the redhead on the ground, who was grossly unhappy at being face-first in horse dung.

It kept the dark-haired lass’ footwork to a minimum as Jamison hauled the redhead to her feet and again using his body weight to hold his prey still, managed to tie the redhead to the dark-haired lass like two pigs on a spit.

Anchored by wooden posts that were meant to withstand the strength of animals, the women had nowhere to go. Jamison tied them very well and very snuggly to the posts. Breathing heavily from his exertion, he stood back to inspect his handiwork.

“There,” he said, extremely satisfied with his work. “Ye’ll not be breaking loose from that any time soon. It serves ye right, ye foolish wenches. If I can find a whip around here, I’ll use it on ye.”

The women were so unhappy, and perhaps so embarrassed, that it seemed to him that both of them were trying hard not to weep.

“Do it, then!” the redheaded woman nearly cried. “You are a filthy barbarian of a man and brutalizing women must come easy for you. Find a whip, then! Only a fiend would do such a thing!”

Jamison cocked a lazy eyebrow. “Had ye not attacked me, then ye wouldna find yerself in such a position,” he said.

Then he leaned forward, condescendingly.

“Or did ye not think of that? Did ye truly think ye would best me? Lass, I’ve spent all night tossing the Welsh out of yer castle.

Are ye so arrogant that ye thought ye’d be a match for me? ”

The redhead was furious and ashamed; she couldn’t even answer the question. Averting her gaze, she looked away and tried not to sob. Meanwhile, the dark-haired woman was staring Jamison down as if she wanted to kill him.

“You are a damnable bastard,” she hissed. “You deserved to be punished for what you did to our sister.”

Our sister . So the gatehouse lass had two fighting sisters, did she? Jamison actually scratched his head.

“Yer father has three daughters that fight as men?” he said, incredulous. “Why on earth does the man allow such a thing?”

The eyes of the dark-haired woman flashed. “For the same reason your father allows you to fight,” she snapped. “We are his offspring. It is our duty.”

“’Tis a man’s duty.”

“He had no sons.”

Ah… more and more was clear to Jamison now. He was a bright man, able to piece together the situation. “Havilland is yer sister,” he said. “Is there just the three of ye?”

The dark-haired lass nodded. “Aye.”

“Do ye have names?”

The dark-haired lass regarded him a moment, a calculated gleam in her eye. This one was rather calculated, it seemed to him. “If I tell you, will you untie us?”

He shook his head. “Not unless ye swear ye willna try tae attack me again. We must have an understanding first.” He folded his enormous arms across his chest. “Do ye not realize we are on the same side? I am no’ the enemy. Ye had no reason tae lift a weapon against me.”

The dark-haired lass wasn’t repentant in the least. “You beat our sister,” she said. “Debts must be paid.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “She attacked me first,” he said. “I wasna supposed tae defend meself?”

“You must have done something to deserve it.”

He threw up his hands. “I did nothing,” he assured her. “Yer sister simply likes tae attack men without provocation, ’tis all.”

The dark-haired woman didn’t reply. She simply kept looking at him, holding his gaze. When Jamison heard movement behind him, it was already too late for him to react. He realized, too late, that the dark-haired lass had been keeping his attention away from his surroundings with her chatter.

That had been his grave mistake.

Thinking himself quite the idiot was the last coherent thought Jamison had before a sharp pain rattled his head and everything went black.