just signed her own assault notice.
She looked askant at Zander. He looked at her, then at the two combatants. Morgan returned her gaze to Collin and the other.
“ We’ve leagues to go before we reach FitzHugh land,” Zander spoke up. “ Martin?”
“Aye?” The stout lad from their first fair spoke up.
“I want you to lead the menfolk to my house. I’ve spoken the direction?”
“Aye,” Martin replied again.
Morgan stepped closer to Zander and got his glance when she did so. She motioned with her eyes.
“You’ve a better plan?” he asked softly.
“You have enough servants already. True?”
He nodded.
“I’d gift them to the MacPhee lasses, then. They’ll gain strong backs and strong...uh, men, and you’ll gain peace. Aside from some properly grateful lads who won’t have any time left over for such nonsense as killing each other.”
She watched his lips quirk. Then, he grinned. Then, he was roaring with the laughter. Morgan stepped away from him and tried to join the trees beside them. The lads were glaring hatred. She didn’t have to ask what was in their eyes. She knew.
“Can you write?” Zander was looking at her.
“Only with a blade, my lord,” she answered evenly.
Zander looked disbelieving for a moment, then turned to his other followers. “Can any among you write, then?”
“Aye.” Martin was the one answering. “I can write if you’ve ink and parchment.”
“I’ve both. Martin? Scribe me a note to sign. I’ve decided your punishment, lads”
“What is it to be?” Collin asked.
“Yea, what is it the lad Morgan would have of us?”
Zander frowned. “’Tis the lad Morgan who thought of it, but you’ll not find it onerous. Unless, of course, you’ve nothing a-tween your legs. Don’t write that, Martin.”
“What does that mean?”
Morgan recognized the male bravado behind Collin’s tone, and she flushed as he glared at her.
“Only that Morgan has remembered where four lusty lasses reside. They happen to cook as well as, if not better than, my own lasses here. The MacPhee ladies have a dearth of menfolk to till their soil, provide their game and warm their beds. I’ve decided to gift them with your indenture for the year. Write that last down, Martin.”
They looked stunned for a moment. Then, they started grinning, too.
“Don’t think it isn’t punishment, lads. I sincerely doubt, once you meet the MacPhee lasses and begin your service, that you’ll be walking anytime soon. In fact, I guarantee it. Martin?”
“Aye?”
“You know the MacPhees?”
“ Everyone knows the lasses.” He was grinning, too.
“See that our friends, Collin and Seth here, reach them safely, and then return to me. I’ll be near Chidester’s Quarry. You know the spot?”
“Aye,” he replied again.
“Get walking, then. ’Tis a three day walk, maybe four. Morgan? Come with me.”
He strode through the center of them, picked up the entwined dirks and kept walking, Morgan at his heels. When they were at his tent, he opened the flap and gestured with his head for her to enter.
As soon as the flap settled, the camp started making sound again. Morgan heard it through the weave of his tent material.
“Have you no idea of your foolishness?” He was pulling her dirks from the handles of the other ones, and handing them to her, and he wasn’t being gentle. His arms were rippling with every movement, as were his shoulders and his chest, and....
Morgan very nearly groaned as she watched, subconsciously receiving the dirks he held to her. She didn’t even blink.
“ Now, there’s no stopping them. Doona’ you ever think of missing?”
“ Missing?” she echoed, taking the last dirk and holding it. “Missing?”
“Aye, missing. Is it such a foreign idea?”
“What should I aim for, then?”
He rolled his head upward, then back. “You should na’ aim for anything. You should miss.”
“ But I’ve never thrown without an aim! I may send a knife flying into a
She looked askant at Zander. He looked at her, then at the two combatants. Morgan returned her gaze to Collin and the other.
“ We’ve leagues to go before we reach FitzHugh land,” Zander spoke up. “ Martin?”
“Aye?” The stout lad from their first fair spoke up.
“I want you to lead the menfolk to my house. I’ve spoken the direction?”
“Aye,” Martin replied again.
Morgan stepped closer to Zander and got his glance when she did so. She motioned with her eyes.
“You’ve a better plan?” he asked softly.
“You have enough servants already. True?”
He nodded.
“I’d gift them to the MacPhee lasses, then. They’ll gain strong backs and strong...uh, men, and you’ll gain peace. Aside from some properly grateful lads who won’t have any time left over for such nonsense as killing each other.”
She watched his lips quirk. Then, he grinned. Then, he was roaring with the laughter. Morgan stepped away from him and tried to join the trees beside them. The lads were glaring hatred. She didn’t have to ask what was in their eyes. She knew.
“Can you write?” Zander was looking at her.
“Only with a blade, my lord,” she answered evenly.
Zander looked disbelieving for a moment, then turned to his other followers. “Can any among you write, then?”
“Aye.” Martin was the one answering. “I can write if you’ve ink and parchment.”
“I’ve both. Martin? Scribe me a note to sign. I’ve decided your punishment, lads”
“What is it to be?” Collin asked.
“Yea, what is it the lad Morgan would have of us?”
Zander frowned. “’Tis the lad Morgan who thought of it, but you’ll not find it onerous. Unless, of course, you’ve nothing a-tween your legs. Don’t write that, Martin.”
“What does that mean?”
Morgan recognized the male bravado behind Collin’s tone, and she flushed as he glared at her.
“Only that Morgan has remembered where four lusty lasses reside. They happen to cook as well as, if not better than, my own lasses here. The MacPhee ladies have a dearth of menfolk to till their soil, provide their game and warm their beds. I’ve decided to gift them with your indenture for the year. Write that last down, Martin.”
They looked stunned for a moment. Then, they started grinning, too.
“Don’t think it isn’t punishment, lads. I sincerely doubt, once you meet the MacPhee lasses and begin your service, that you’ll be walking anytime soon. In fact, I guarantee it. Martin?”
“Aye?”
“You know the MacPhees?”
“ Everyone knows the lasses.” He was grinning, too.
“See that our friends, Collin and Seth here, reach them safely, and then return to me. I’ll be near Chidester’s Quarry. You know the spot?”
“Aye,” he replied again.
“Get walking, then. ’Tis a three day walk, maybe four. Morgan? Come with me.”
He strode through the center of them, picked up the entwined dirks and kept walking, Morgan at his heels. When they were at his tent, he opened the flap and gestured with his head for her to enter.
As soon as the flap settled, the camp started making sound again. Morgan heard it through the weave of his tent material.
“Have you no idea of your foolishness?” He was pulling her dirks from the handles of the other ones, and handing them to her, and he wasn’t being gentle. His arms were rippling with every movement, as were his shoulders and his chest, and....
Morgan very nearly groaned as she watched, subconsciously receiving the dirks he held to her. She didn’t even blink.
“ Now, there’s no stopping them. Doona’ you ever think of missing?”
“ Missing?” she echoed, taking the last dirk and holding it. “Missing?”
“Aye, missing. Is it such a foreign idea?”
“What should I aim for, then?”
He rolled his head upward, then back. “You should na’ aim for anything. You should miss.”
“ But I’ve never thrown without an aim! I may send a knife flying into a
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