Page 13 of The Laird's Wicked Game
Lyle nodded eagerly.
Another jolt of victory thrilled through Kylie. She’d hit the mark in two areas this morning. The first was the love the lads had for their father, and the second was the competitiveness between them. She’d had little experience with bairns yet followed her instincts now. If she had to use the rivalry between the two boys as a weapon, she would.
“Very well, shall we—”
“Ye asked me first,” Ailean burst out, pink spots of indignation rising to his cheeks.
“I did,” she replied. “But ye weren’t interested, so—”
“I am!”
Kylie inclined her head, careful to keep her expression inscrutable. She had the wee imp. She then gestured to the nub of charcoal Ailean had set down earlier. “Go on then, let’s see ye write yer name.”
Standing by the window of the lady’s solar, enjoying the warm breeze that feathered across her face, Kylie looked on as her charges copied out the alphabet.
Neither lad looked overly happy about the chore. However, their faces were now screwed up in concentration, their fingers clenching around the sticks of charcoal as they wrote. A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth as she watched them. Maybe she could handle these two, after all. After a slow start, the morning had flown, and the rumbling of Kylie’s belly warned her that the noon meal was approaching.
Frankly, despite that there was a glimmer of hope now, she was looking forward to the morning’s lessons ending. She felt wrung out. Both lads had questioned every instruction she gave, but she’d held fast. She couldn’t let them think that their ‘duenna’ was going to burst into tears and run from the room if they played up.
The rough shouts of men drew her attention then, and she glanced away from her charges, out the window, her gaze traveling down to the barmkin. Captain Maclean was taking his men through drills.
Kylie stiffened.
Makenna was amongst them.
Standing tall—despite that she was actually the shortest of all five MacGregor sisters—the morning sun catching the red highlights in her long braided hair, her sister held a bound blade in her right hand while she listened to Jack’s instructions. Unlike the other warriors, who were all dressed in fighting leathers, Makenna cut an incongruous sight in her finely made kirtle, with its long skirt slit at the sides.Her only other concession to practicality was that she wasn’t wearing a restrictive surcote this morning; instead, she’d donned a tight-fitting leather vest, laced at the front, and wore leather bracers to protect her wrists and forearms.
And, unsurprisingly, most of the guards were gaping at her.
As Kylie looked on, her sister leaped forward and began sparring with an opponent. The rhythmic thud of the bound blades colliding echoed through the yard.
“God’s bones.” The oath burst out of Kylie before she could stop it. “Why does she need to draw such attention to herself?” The sisters were so different. Whereas Kylie went through life trying to fit in, Makenna went out of her way to stand out. And it didn’t matter how many times Kylie viewed her behavior with a jaundiced eye, or murmured a reproach, Makenna did what she liked without a thought to how it might impact others.
Selfish.
Resentment arrowed through her then. Soon, Makenna would depart Dounarwyse, but Kylie would remain; it wasshewho would have to put up with the whispers and smirks.
“What is it?” Ailean cast aside his charcoal nub and leaped up. Lyle swiftly followed, his expression eager.
“Nothing,” Kylie muttered, cursing herself for voicing her thoughts aloud. “Return to yer work.”
However, the lads both knew it wasn’t ‘nothing’, and so they rushed to the window, squeezing in next to her to look down upon the training men.
And it wasn’t long before they realized who was currently sparring.
“Lady Makennacanfight!” Lyle exclaimed as he leaned forward, his fingers digging into stone. “Look!”
6: THE STERN VOICE OF REASON
MAKENNA KICKED the legs out from under her opponent, sending him crashing to the ground.
Around her, the guards cheered.
Breathing hard, she straightened up, her gaze flicking to where Captain Maclean stood a few yards away. “Where did ye learn that trick, Lady Makenna?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
Makenna flashed him a grin. “Alec Rankin taught me.”
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “The pirate?”