Page 429 of Pride Not Prejudice

He stood at the line and concentrated on the target. He held the ax in his right hand, focused and lifted it. The ax fell to the ground just a foot from Lachland, again searing pain cut through his side.

Not wishing to give up, he did his best to work past the pain. He picked up the ax and threw it. The ax missed the entire target.

Breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face, he managed to make it to a bench. Cursing under his breath, Lachland refused to look at anyone.

“Ye are not competing tomorrow,” his leader, Gavin, said, peering down at him. “Ye will instead judge the archery competition.”

“I do not wish to...”

“I am not giving ye a choice. Ye are one of my best warriors. I will not allow ye to injure yerself further over a game. Now, go watch the archers.” Gavin placed a hand on his shoulder. “I need ye battle-ready. A competition is not as important as saving lives.”

It was true, however his pride was injured, as he was sure to place, if not win the ax throwing contest.

He’d also signed up for the caber toss. Now he’d be a spectator, no worse. He’d be judging the archery competition. It would be impossible to avoid Caelan now.

For a long while, Lachland didn’t move, instead sat and waited until the painful throbbing ebbed.

Across the field, where the targets had been placed on hay bales, he spotted the archers walking up to practice.

The men seemed in good spirits, most of them friends, enjoying the break from the daily monotony of patrols and practice.

Already villagers had set up tables, tents and started fires for cooking. The next few days would be enjoyable. There would be food, drink and music.

Lachland stood and stopped at spotting Caelan. Once again, he was accompanied by the same man who’d walked into the tent with him that morning. The man was tall and muscular, more a warrior than an archer’s build. However, he had a bow strapped across his back and a quiver hung from his left shoulder.

The man placed a hand on Caelan’s upper arm, stopping him from taking a step further and said something. Caelan shook his head. They continued walking.

Was there more than met the eye between the two? Lachland watched the men and they continued to walk closer to the target area. They seemed comfortable in each other’s company. If they fought together and trained together, then of course they had to be friends.

Suddenly the archery practice became interesting.

Lachland had to know if Caelan had a lover.

Damn him for wanting to know.

Chapter Three

To Caelan it was comical to see Brock compete. Other archers watched perplexed as Brock walked past to where Caelan stood.

The muscled warrior was his closest friend and had taken up archery, stating he wished to be able to fight for the clan in different ways.

Even before turning, Caelan sensed Lachland. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the brawny warrior who stood with arms crossed over his chest to watch.

Glancing toward the area where the ax throwing competition would happen, there were men practicing. Why was Lachland not there?

“Men,” Lachland called out clapping his hands to get their attention. “I, along with Struan,” he pointed to the head archer, will be judging the archery competition.”

Caelan narrowed his eyes. Interesting.

“Yer no archer,” Brock called out and laughed. “The arrows are quite different from yer wee ax.”

Other archers joined in laughing and asking questions, while Lachland took it all with humor, even chuckling at some of their barbs.

“Brock, Calum, Jamie, Caelan, yer first,” Struan called out. “Line up and shoot three arrows.”

Doing his best to avoid eye contact with Lachland, Caelan walked forward turning to face the target. He studied the distance, the wind and lastly the soil under his boots. Then holding up his bow, he pulled back on the taut string to ensure all was well. Of course, it was. He spent hours working with the weapon, always ensuring it to be in pristine condition. After all, his life depended on it.

When he notched the arrow, Caelan then concentrated on his breathing, each movement calculated as he pulled back, let out his breath, focused on the target and released, aiming a bit higher and to the left of the center.

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