Page 58 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

Moving closer, Fiona followed their gazes and saw that Gavin stood at one end inside the ring, his sword still sheathed in its scabbard, his arms casually crossed. Slightly disappointed, she noted he still wore his shirt, then silently laughed at her foolishness.

Turning her attention to the opposite side of the ring, she beheld his opponent. A much shorter, slighter man, shifting nervously on his feet—Spencer!

Fiona gasped her son’s name in horror, but only Alice was near enough to hear. And her maid was every bit as shocked. As for the rest of the crowd, well, they appeared transfixed by what they were about to see. Spencer squared his shoulders, pulled on his helmet and drew his sword. The other squires hooted and clapped.

“Are ye sure about this, lad?” Gavin pulled his sword, easily tossing it from hand to hand.

“I wish to learn from the best,” Spencer replied. “I am honored you accepted my plea to spar with you.”

Gavin grinned. “Flattery willnae make this any easier fer ye, lad.”

Spencer advanced, then assumed a fighting stance. “I never expected that it would.”

Clutching the hilt with both hands, Spencer swung his sword in a high arc over his head and brought it down with far more strength than Fiona thought possible. Gavin blocked the blow easily and Fiona felt a moment of pride at her son’s prowess, until the piercing clatter reminded her that these were deadly weapons. It would only take a small slip for Spencer to be seriously injured.

With poetic rhythm, the two took turns striking and avoiding blows. Gavin shouted instructions that Spencer struggled to obey, yet Gavin steadily and easily continued to move Spencer back. It took but a few minutes for Spencer’s chest to start rising and falling rapidly, his puffing breath heard clearly throughout the practice field. After one more exchange, Spencer wisely retreated to the other side. He bent at the waist and started wheezing. Fiona’s concern mounted.

“Finish him off, milord, so we can eat our midday meal,” one of the men shouted.

“Aye, we’re hungry and need some humbled squires to serve us,” another yelled.

The comment brought a round of boos from the squires, who then started cheering even louder for Spencer. Their support seemed to give the boy a renewed sense of vigor and strengthen his determination. No longer looking defeated, he straightened and stood proudly.

“Do ye yield?” Gavin asked.

Spencer shook his head and charged. Gavin stood at the ready, but instead of swinging his sword, he stepped aside at the last moment, causing the boy to stumble and fall. He advanced and the moment Spencer rolled onto his back, Gavin placed the tip of his sword on Spencer’s chest.

Fiona smothered a terrified cry in her fist. At the sound, Gavin looked over at her. Fearing her horrified expression was showing, Fiona hastily backed away from view. It was then she heard a sharp cry of pain, followed by a hissing curse.

Fearing the worst, Fiona craned her head between the two burly men who stood in front of her. She saw Spencer cast his sword to the ground, toss off his helmet and rush toward Gavin. But a ring of soldiers had surrounded the earl, preventing the boy from getting close.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Spencer cried. “’Twas a careless mistake.”

Fiona could not hear Gavin’s reply. He shouted something to the rest of the men. The circle around him melted away. Pointedly ignoring everyone, Gavin stomped away from the practice field, his right hand clasped over his upper left arm.

No one else moved. Most of the men were staring at Gavin with a surprised look of disbelief. The crowd parted silently to allow their lord through, then hurried away.

Fiona hurried, too—to check on Spencer. Alice tried to keep pace with her, but in her haste stepped in a long, shallow puddle. Fiona pressed forward, leaving her blasphemous maid behind.

As she approached, Fiona heard the astonished whispers and expressions of disbelief from Gavin’s retainers. Had a squire truly landed a blow against the earl?

“I don’t know how it happened,” Spencer said, his face lined with worry. “I thought he would easily block the blow, just as he did with all the others. I never meant to strike so hard.”

“Ye drew blood,” one of the squires said, awe in his tone.

Spencer flinched, then took a few quick breaths. His face sparked with guilt when he caught Fiona’s gaze. “Is the earl very angry?” he whispered.

“I suspect his pride is hurt far more than his arm,” she replied, keeping the volume of her voice low. “What about you? Are you injured anywhere?”

Fiona sighed with relief when Spencer shook his head. Then the squires closed in, effectively pushing her away. They were giddy with excitement, patting Spencer on the back and congratulating him loudly enough for those still in the area to hear. For his part, Spencer refused to meet their gazes, hanging his head and looking utterly miserable.

After assuring herself that Spencer was physically unharmed, Fiona left. When she entered the great hall she met a scowling Gavin standing in front of one of the enormous fireplaces, a fretting Hamish at his side.

“Shall I summon the healer from the village, milord?” Hamish asked, his brow knit with worry.

“Nay. ’Tis only a scratch.”

Fiona’s eyes flew to Gavin’s blood-coated fingers. “It appears to be far more than a scratch,” she refuted, reaching up to touch Gavin’s arm.

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