Page 37 of The Winter Laird

Brianagh managed a sickly kind of smile that Erin misinterpreted as a sign that the food really was that bad and announced, “I believe it’s time for our stroll. I’ll have someone fetch our cloaks.”

A few moments later, they headed across the bailey. No one even gave them a second look.

“Where are we going?” Bri asked, pulling the hood closer around her head to ward off the chill.

“The lists.”

“But Nioclas was quite clear when he said we aren’t allowed in them,” she said, remembering how a few days ago, he’d sent his brother to her solar to deliver the castle rules.

Ridiculous.

“Oh, they won’t know we’re there,” Erin scoffed. “We’ll be hidden. If you remember, I grew up here.” She flashed a mischievous grin at Bri. “I know just where to watch, without anyone being any wiser.”

Bri followed, fully planning to blame the entire thing on Erin if they were caught. She was the new kid in town; she didn’t know anything. They did things differently on the continent. Her list of plausible excuses was lengthy, so she smiled at the thought of no more mending and scurried against the wall separating the two courtyards she’d seen this morning. Nodding at the men they passed, Bri tried to look like she was just out for an afternoon stroll.

Against a wall.

“Here we are,” Erin said, her voice low as they crept into the small archway separating the two baileys.

Bri stopped in her tracks, her jaw slack. Men were everywhere. Some were on horses, running at each other down a track and ramming long poles into each other in what looked like an attempt to force the opponent from his horse. Others were fighting with a wooden machine with extensions, each with something dangling from it—Bri fervently hoped that wasn’t a dead pig she thought she saw tied to one of them. The machine was wound back by two men, then released in a frenzy of flying objects at a guardsman. The reaction time of the current guard was impressive until he was taken off his feet by the pig.

But the most interesting was the hand-to-hand combat happening at the far end. There, only two men were engaged—swords, by the look and sound of it—and a large cluster of guards stood to the side and watched, calling out to the opponents. Bri couldn’t make out the words because they were too far away. She couldn’t even see who was fighting—not that she’d recognize anyone, anyway.

“Come on,” Erin said, grabbing her hand and tugging her into the wall.

Bri laughed a little. The wall was a slim archway with openings on either end and was clearly a well-used passageway between the baileys.

“The wall is built out, with benches for people to watch our tournaments when we hold them,” Erin explained as they walked. “We’re underneath the top level of those benches.”

“Oh, yes, Erin. This is super-secret.”

Erin gave her a mock glare. “Trust me. The men get so involved in their training, they don’t notice anyone in this thing. Well, he does,” she amended as they squeezed by a guard standing in the middle of the tunnel, “but he won’t breathe a word. Right, Ambrose?”

“I see nothing, my lady.”

“Great answer. My mother and his were sisters. He knows nothing.”

“Nothing,” Ambrose agreed with a wink before sauntering back the way the women had just come.

“Now…look at that,” Erin said triumphantly. The large cracks in the walls facing the lists made it easy to see the men using swords, and the guardsmen calling out insults and slurs were somewhere to the left. “Stay back in the shadows and no one will be any wiser.”

Bri and Erin peered out…and Bri’s mouth went dry as a shot of pure lust lanced straight to her core.

Nioclas had his tunic off. Dressed in just a léine and boots, his chest shone with sweat, and his muscles tightened as he crossed swords with Donovan. His hair was tied back, but some strands escaped the leather band and plastered themselves to his neck. Pushing aside her irrational reaction, Bri’s eyes drank in the sight of him. The tattoo she spied on their wedding night was just the tip of the iceberg. It wound itself all the way around the top of his bicep and to his shoulder, each arm mirroring the other. The intricacies of the Celtic knots looked fascinating, although she was too far away to make out any real detail. With each clang of the swords, Nioclas’s calves flexed, strength underscoring his every move. Bri’s body tightened in response.

Nioclas laughed suddenly at something Donovan said, and Brianagh thought she might expire on the spot.

“He rarely does that,” Erin murmured.

“Train?”

“No. Laugh.” She slanted a glance at Bri. “Mayhap marriage agrees with him.”

Brianagh bit her lip, a sense of guilt invading her. She had no idea what agreed with him. She hadn’t even caught sight of him since the morning after their wedding.

Nioclas finished with Donovan, sending his sword flying. It landed about five feet from where the women were, and they both jumped back quickly, hands over their mouths. Once the sword was retrieved, they burst out into a fit of quiet giggles.

“See?” Erin whispered, leaning forward as Aidan took up with Nioclas. “Best part of the day.”

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