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Havilland thought her face might catch on fire, so warm were her cheeks. She was thankful for the dim lighting in the corner of the hall. “My father had no sons,” she said. “I have wielded a sword as long as I can recall.”

He was gazing at her most openly, a gesture that was calculated. Jamison knew how to overwhelm a woman with his charm. He’d done it before and was quite good at it. More of that male pride the man had, full enough with it to fill an ocean.

“As I said, ye have excellent technique,” he said. Then, he eyed her. “I saw two more women about who also wear mail and bear weapons. Are they relations to ye?”

Havilland felt cornered by the question.

She was actually enjoying their conversation until this moment.

He’d asked about Madeline and Amaline and because he had apologized for his boorish behavior, she couldn’t very well lie to him.

In fact, she felt the need to be truthful about the situation.

It was rather disheartening because she knew he’d more than likely curse her and walk away once he knew the truth, but she wasn’t in the habit of lying to a direct question.

Squaring her shoulders, she sighed heavily.

“Aye,” she said. “They are my sisters, Madeline and Amaline. I know that they tried to engage you earlier today. They saw you take your hand to me outside of the gatehouse yesterday and thought to seek vengeance against you. Know that I did not tell them to do it. But… but it was I who saved them from you.”

Jamison already knew that and he was surprised by the confession.

He was also pleased by it. At least she’s honest , he thought.

The seed of respect he had for the woman grew and he found he really wasn’t angry about it at all.

No matter what he’d told Becket and no matter how much he’d steamed about it, gazing into her honest, somewhat apprehensive face, he found that he just couldn’t be angry about it.

She had done what he would have, given the same circumstance. Nay, he couldn’t fault her at all.

“I know,” he said, putting a hand gingerly to the back of his head. “I suspected it was ye. One of yer sisters told me why they’d attacked me. It seems that ever since I’ve come to Four Crosses, women are intent tae attack me and not in pleasant ways. ’Tis a pity, truthfully.”

Havilland wasn’t sure what he meant but she was greatly relieved that he didn’t seem furious about it. “I do not understand, my lord,” she said. “What is a pity?”

He was back to grinning again. “I would have much rather made yer acquaintance over a pitcher of this terrible wine than have lifted me sword tae ye,” he said.

“But it was me own fault. I shouldna let me fatigue and mood get the better of me. But I will be truthful, m’lady– I was hoping tae find ye today tae address the situation between us because it seems I am to stay on at Four Crosses for a time. ”

She lifted her eyebrows in mild surprise, although she realized she wasn’t much displeased by that thought. “Is that so?”

He nodded. “’Tis,” he said. “De Lohr has asked me tae remain and train yer men against the Scots tactics the Welsh seem tae be using. In fact, it is something that de Lohr wished tae discuss wit’ yer father. I understand the man is ill.”

It was a good deal of information he was delivering and Havilland was trying to stay on an even keel with it. “He is,” she said, but she couldn’t quite drift on to the subject of her father. She deliberately kept the focus away from him. “You are staying here? With us?”

She sounded rather breathless with the question and Jamison couldn’t decide if he was pleased by it or insulted.

Was it fear he heard in her voice or excitement?

Was it possible this sleek, dark-haired lass found him as attractive as he found her?

Suddenly, staying on at Four Crosses didn’t quite look so bad.

“Aye,” he said, the warmth fading from his eyes. “De Lohr believes ye need me help, especially if the Scots are involved in Madog’s rebellions.”

Havilland wasn’t quite sure what he meant by the Scots being involved. “There were Scots involved in the battle?”

He could see that she wasn’t following him. “Did ye spend the entire battle covering the gatehouse?”

“Aye.”

“Then ye didna see what was going on beyond the walls?”

She shook her head. “Not really,” she admitted. “From where I was, we could only see men fighting and not much more than that.”

He nodded thoughtfully, perhaps considering how much he should tell her.

He opted for all of it because if he was going to remain here, training men against Scots tactics, he assumed she would be part of that training.

The thought, although an odd one, didn’t displease him.

Women simply weren’t trained for battle.

But this one evidently was.

“As I said, the Welsh were using Scots tactics in battle,” he said. “Ye say that ye fight as a man, m’lady, but did ye have formal training? Do ye understand the ways of yer enemy?”

Havilland knew she wasn’t highly trained; all of her training had come from her father and the knights at Four Crosses.

She’d never fostered and she couldn’t read or write, so she hadn’t studied formally anywhere.

It was an embarrassing admission, one she wasn’t yet ready to confess to, that she didn’t know as much as he did. She had her pride.

“My father and his men have trained me quite adequately,” she said, feeling slightly defensive. “I understand Roman and Teutonic tactics as explained to me by my father and even though I have not formally fostered to train as a knight, I can fight as one. You have seen it.”

Jamison could see that the question had upset her.

Perhaps even embarrassed her. He nodded his head to her statement.

“I have seen ye fight,” he said. “I told ye that ye have excellent technique. I was askin’ if ye knew yer enemy because if ye had seen the battle outside of the walls, ye would have seen the Welsh using Scots formations when approaching the castle.

If ye dunna recognize the formations, I intend tae teach ye and yer men. Ye must know how tae counter them.”

Havilland couldn’t decide if he sounded high and mighty about teaching her or not.

He sounded factual, which eased her defensiveness somewhat, but she was still embarrassed.

She knew she didn’t know as much as he did.

But perhaps he was bluffing; perhaps he didn’t know anything at all and was simply trying to act superior to her. Quite honestly, she wasn’t sure.

“And you are qualified to teach us?” she asked, putting him on the spot. “Please tell me what makes you so qualified to teach us such things?”

Jamison had to hide a grin. He could see she was trying to turn the tables on him to see how much he really did know or if his words were all for show. She was competitive, this one, and she didn’t like to be made to feel inferior. He cleared his throat quietly, struggling not to smile.

“I would be happy tae tell ye,” he said.

“My father is the Munro, chief of Clan Munro, and he himself a very educated and well-traveled man. When I was seven years of age, at the request of yer King Henry, my king, Alexander, sent me and several other lads, all sons of clan chiefs, south tae Lioncross Abbey for fostering. At least, that is what Henry called it, but the truth is that we were hostages. I spent a few years at Lioncross training, learning the ways o’ the Sassenach, until one of the de Lohr brothers, Arthur, took me as his squire.

Arthur was a wanderer and took me all over England, France, and Saxony fighting other men’s wars.

I spent many years learning the ways of other armies before going back home tae Scotland.

I studied under Sir Arthur and the finest men of our time– de Bohun, Bigod, and de Wolfe.

Great warriors, all of them. I even spent time at a monastery in Southern France, studying languages and ancient history with the monks because Sir Arthur had an interest in such things.

Therefore, m’lady, I am, mayhap, better educated than most men.

I believe I am qualified tae teach yer men about tactics. ”

By the time he was finished, Havilland was looking at him in shock.

So great was the tale that she might have thought he was making it up, but for the fact that he didn’t seem to be the type.

He was quite factual about all of it and even humble about it.

Nay, he wasn’t making any of it up. She was willing to believe it all.

“You have been to France?” she asked, trying not to sound too awed by it. “Have you been to Paris? I hear the streets are paved in precious stones and gold brick. Is it true?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Nay, m’lady,” he said. “’Tis a dirty place, I think. Never have I met so many angry people than I have in France.”

“Mayhap because the English are all over their country.”

He laughed softly, revealing big, white teeth with prominent canines.

He had quite the dazzling smile, enough to throw Havilland off a bit.

All she knew were dirty men, hairy men, and unattractive men.

She was surrounded by them. They were all dark and colorless.

But here was a big Highlander with his red hair and brilliant smile; he was color in a world that had none, an enigma.

Certainly, she was curious about him now and, perhaps, even more than that.

He had her interest.

“I wouldna be surprised if that was the truth,” he said. Then, he sobered a bit. “Now that ye know about me, would it be possible tae have a few moments with yer father? I know that Becket needs tae speak with him and I should as well.”

Swiftly, they were back on her father again and Havilland was startled at the change of subject, so much so that she couldn’t honestly think of a smooth reply.

Quickly, she averted her gaze and took a few steps away from him, as if to put safe distance between them.

It was a foolish move but, somehow, she felt the need to protect herself from him, brilliant smile and all.

She wasn’t used to showing interest in any man and had no idea how to appropriately deal with it. That uncertainty made her edgy.

“I… I will ask him,” she said. “He has been ill and does not take visitors. I cannot promise anything but I… I will ask.”

She continued to move away from him, back to Watcyn, who, by now, was dozing peacefully.

Nervously, Havilland picked up the bowl of cool beef broth but by the time she stood up, Jamison was standing next to her again.

He was so tall that she barely came up to his sternum and she had to step back, away from him. The man was far too close for comfort.

“I didna mean tae startle ye,” Jamison said, his voice quiet. “I only have one more thing tae ask of ye. I would hope there is peace between us now, enough so that I dunna have tae worry about ye leaping from the shadows tae attack me on a daily basis?”

He said it with some humor and, in spite of herself, Havilland gave him a lopsided grin. “You do not have to worry about such things,” she said, leaning away from him because he was so close to her. “But make no more threats to throttle my men.”

“I willna, I promise.”

“Then there should be no trouble.”

“And yer sisters? Must I seek peace with them as well?”

Havilland shook her head. “I will speak with them,” she said. “Amaline will not be a problem but Madeline….”

“Which one is she?”

“She has dark hair, like me.”

He nodded in recognition. “Aye,” he said. “The aggressive one. She told me no one would beat her sister and get away with such a thing.”

Havilland lifted her eyebrows, half in agreement, half in embarrassment.

“That would be Madeline,” she said. “I will speak with her but I cannot promise she will back off, at least not right away. If she tries to attack you again, then you have my permission to do what is necessary to defend yourself. But try not to hurt her if you can help it.”

Jamison was amused. “Can I spank her, then?”

Havilland’s cheeks turned a dull shade of red and she lowered her gaze, but she couldn’t quite manage to walk away from him.

“If you must,” she said, listening to him laugh low in his throat.

“Since you seem to like spanking women so much, I would not dare deprive you of the privilege against someone who truly needs it.”

His laughter grew. “When she attacks me again, I will remember that.”

Havilland fought off a smile. “Confident, aren’t you?”

His eyes glimmered at her, fingers of warmth reaching out to touch her, invisible tendrils causing her knees to wobble and her heart to race. “Aye,” he said in a soft, deep voice that caused chills to race up her spine. “That I am.”

“Of everything?”

“Of that which I know.”

“And what do you know?

He flashed that smile at her. “Women.”

It was a woefully cheeky statement, as he meant it should be.

Havilland turned away then, fearful he would see just how much his laughter and charming presence had disarmed her.

She didn’t want the man thinking he could use that charm against her when the truth was that he already knew. Damnation… he already knew!

Heading away from the wounded and back towards the door that led to the kitchen yard, Havilland couldn’t keep the smile off her lips.

The next few days with Jamison Munro were going to be rather interesting.