Chapter 5

"Idinnae ken if we can dae this."

Bonnie sat by the large table in the infirmary, grinding herbs into a paste. With the clan's previous healer unable to work for long, they had run out of supplies and now it was up to them to restock the shelves, though they should truly be focusing on their plan.

Cathleen turned from the vials she had been examining, trying to label everything properly. "We must," she said. "We have nae other choice."

It had been like that ever since they had come to the castle. Every few hours, one of them would claim she couldn't do this anymore and that the plan was bound to fail anyway, while the other would try to convince them both it would all work out in the end if they only followed the plan. They took turns overthinking themselves to the verge of a breakdown, knowing they couldn't afford to lose their heads at the same time.

"What happens when we are discovered?" asked Bonnie. Her hands trembled around the mortar and the pestle; her eyes wide as she stared at the contents of the little bowl in front of her as though they could give her some answers.

"We willnae be discovered," Cathleen assured her, though she hardly believed it herself. They had to repeat these lies over and over in the hopes that they would eventually become the truth. "By the time they find out who we are, it will be too late."

Bonnie turned to look at her then, turning those piercing brown eyes on her. "That is what I fear."

Before Cathleen could find the right words to soothe her sister, the door opened and Deirdre entered the infirmary. In her hands, she held a basket full of baked goods and little pots of jams and preserves, which she set down on the table.

"Good mornin'!" she said cheerfully and though both Cathleen and Bonnie forced their lips to stretch into smiles, Deirdre must have noticed the tension in the room. "Is somethin' the matter? Am I interruptin'?"

"Ach nay!" Bonnie was quick to say, some of her panic bleeding into her tone. Cathleen could only hope it would be perceived as eagerness. "We were only discussin' what must be done tae ready the quarters fer receivin' the sick an' the wounded."

"Is there much tae be done?" asked Deirdre. "Can I help?"

"We wouldnae ask ye tae help," Cathleen said. "Surely, ye have much tae dae in the castle."

"Ye would be surprised at how little there is tae dae," Deirdre said as she pushed the sleeves of her tunic up and took a seat at the table. It was a simple tunic, Cathleen noted, unlike the one she had worn the previous night at dinner, as though she had prepared for manual labor that morning. "I am happy tae help. Please, tell me what I can dae."

For a brief moment, Cathleen considered the possibility that Deirdre and everyone in the clan had plans of their own. Living with Faolan and his trusted men for a year had pushed her towards paranoia and she struggled to believe that everyone around her was so kind, even though that had once been her reality. Before her parents had died, she had never endured anyone's cruelty.

What plans could they have? They are simply kind people.

Cathleen tried to ignore the pang of guilt that speared through her chest and instead threw herself back into her work. The three of them moved quickly, replenishing the jars and the boxes of herbs and making sure everything had a proper label. By the time they were finished, the sun was high up in the sky, and Cathleen and Bonnie had somehow managed to go through the hours without revealing anything about themselves. They had nibbled on the baked goods, too, to keep up appearances, but neither of them had the appetite for food.

They only relaxed when Deirdre left, giving them some respite from her relentless goodwill and warmth. Cathleen couldn't stay in that room for a moment longer, so she and Bonnie headed outside for some fresh air to help them clear their heads.

This was a far more difficult task than either of them could have imagined.

Their footsteps took them around the garden to the training grounds, where several men sparred. Among them, Cathleen spotted Kian and Macauley laughing as they threw half-hearted punches at each other that were easy to dodge. For a while, Cathleen's gaze lingered. Macauley had decided to forgo his shirt, the muscles of his chest and his stomach rippling as he circled Kian, his skin glistening with a sheen of sweat.

Next to her, Bonnie laughed.

"What?" Cathleen grumbled, turning to pin her sister with a cold gaze. Bonnie raised her hands in mock surrender, shrugging a shoulder.

"I can tell when someone holds yer affections," she said.

Cathleen couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I hardly ken anythin' about him. An' even if I did, I am nae a fool. We are nae here tae find husbands. We are here tae dae as we were told an' then leave."

That silenced Bonnie, but Cathleen immediately regretted her harsh tone. As much as they couldn't forget why they were there, she didn't want to be yet another cruel voice in her sister's life. Before she could apologize, though, Macauley noticed them and beckoned them over.

After sharing a glance between them, Cathleen and Bonnie approached the two men. The entire time, Cathleen did her best to keep her gaze glued to Macauley's face, refusing to let it roam any lower.

"How is yer arm?" Cathleen asked, taking a moment to look at the bandage. The bleeding had stopped entirely, but that didn't reassure her. "Ye didnae come tae see us like I asked."

"I would have come after practice," Macauley said. "Dinnae fash. I am fine. I must be if Kian cannae defeat me."

"Have ye considered I am merely bein' kind enough tae allow ye tae win?" Kian asked. "Perhaps I am hardly tryin'."

For a moment, Macauley scrutinized Kian as if he was trying to peer right through him into the truth. "Nay," he said in the end. "Ye simply cannae beat me."

"Even a lassie could beat ye when ye cannae use yer arm," Kian said.

"Is that what ye think?" Macauley laughed, puffing out his chest like a proud bird. "Where will ye find a lassie tae fight me?"

"I'll fight ye."

Cathleen looked at the two men with an annoyed frown, her arms crossed over her chest. They were so confident in their abilities, so quick to dismiss the thought that any woman could go up against them, that she couldn't stop the anger bubbling up inside her.

Once again, Macauley laughed, taking a few steps towards her. "I willnae fight a lass."

Cathleen stood to her full height, though it hardly made a difference when Macauley towered over her, eclipsing even the sun. "Are ye afraid ye will lose?"

Kian's laugh rang through the training grounds, capturing the attention of some of the other men. Suddenly, Macauley and Cathleen had an audience, all of them wondering what would happen next, and just as she had expected, Macauley was not going to back down from a challenge.

"Very well," he said. "Hand to hand? Sword fight?"

"Short blades," Cathleen said, ignoring Bonnie's warning tone as she called her name. She pushed her sleeves up and made sure her hair was securely pinned to her head, preparing herself for the fight. "A sword would give ye an unfair advantage, considerin' its weight."

"As ye wish. Kian, will ye choose the blades fer us?"

Kian hesitated for a moment, but when neither Cathleen nor Macauley backed down, he handed them a blade each. They were dull, of course, meant for practice, but that didn't mean they couldn't inflict any damage. In the hands of anyone less experienced, they would be a danger to them both.

But Cathleen was experienced. Macauley didn't know it yet, though he would soon find out.

"What is the prize fer the winner?" Macauley asked with a wide, eager grin.

"Fer me? The satisfaction o' defeatin' ye," said Cathleen.

Her words drew a laugh out of Macauley. "Shall we make this more interestin'? Whoever loses will have tae dae one thing the other wants. Nae matter what it is."

Under any other circumstances, Cathleen wouldn't have entertained such a wager, but she doubted Macauley would force her to do something particularly humiliating or dangerous. This was the very man who had looked her in the eyes the previous night, thanking her so earnestly for saving his life.

"So it shall be," Cathleen said.

At first, the two of them only circled each other, their steps careful against the dusty ground. It hadn't rained in a few days and there was nothing but their repeated footsteps to keep the dirt packed into the earth, small clouds of it rising in the air as they moved.

By then, they had attracted a proper crowd, the men curious to see what was happening. No one expected Cathleen to win. She didn't quite expect herself to win either, but at least she was going to put up a good fight.

She had to strike first. Macauley would never make the first move, too afraid of hurting her, so she charged him instead. It was evident to everyone around them he had the advantage of size, but that also made him slow, Cathleen knew. She had observed him for a short while as he sparred with Kian, and she could tell he would never be as fast as she was.

He will only defeat me if he pins me tae the ground.

She had to avoid that at all cost.

Bringing the knife up to strike, Cathleen prepared for the inevitable parry. Just as she had expected, Macauley blocked the blow with ease, but he hadn't expected her to deal a punch to the middle of his torso in response. It was the surprise of it rather than any pain that made him stumble backwards, huffing out a disbelieving laugh.

Cathleen's knuckles ached with the impact. The man was built like a brick wall, it seemed, his muscles like impenetrable armor when flexed. Still, it was a small price to pay to see the shock on everyone's faces and hear their whispers as they travelled around the circle of people that surrounded them.

"Who taught ye that?" Macauley asked, rolling his shoulders. He had thought he wouldn't have to put any effort into this, but Cathleen saw the way he shifted now, assuming a more cautious stance. "A good trick."

"It is nae trick," said Cathleen. "Would ye call it a trick were I a man?"

To his credit, Macauley considered her question seriously for a moment. Then he said, "Nay… nay, I suppose I wouldnae."

This time, it was Macauley who attacked first. He was still holding back, Cathleen could tell, as their bodies met again and again in a violent dance. Cathleen parried every blow Macauley dealt while struggling to find an opening for a counterattack. He guarded himself well, but Cathleen only needed one unsure move from him to strike, and she found her chance when Macauley, overconfident, swung his arm wide, perhaps thinking that Cathleen couldn't parry such a blow.

She didn't need to. Instead, she acted swiftly and took advantage of the opening, slashing at Macauley. She missed, though barely, as he stumbled to the side, struggling for a moment to regain his footing. Around them, the whispers had turned into shouts, the men equal measures amused and impressed by Cathleen's skills. Many of them seemed to be rooting for her, calling out her name.

It didn't surprise her that everyone knew who she was, even if she had been in the castle for no more than a day. News travelled fast and they all knew her by now, though she didn't know them at all. She wondered what they said about her and Bonnie. She wondered what they would say once they found out the truth.

Across from her, Macauley smiled, his eyes filled with fire as he watched her. Sweat dripped down his temples and his skin was flushed red from exertion, but Cathleen was certain she wasn't in any better condition. Her chest heaved as she breathed, the fight tiring them both out.

Cathleen had to put an end to this before she was too tired to win.

She charged Macauley once more, shifting her grip on the knife so she could take him by surprise. At first, it seemed to her like it had worked and that she would finally manage to defeat him, but before she knew it, he spun out of the way and grabbed her by the waist, pressing her close to his body. The blade was suddenly against her throat and though it was dull, a shiver ran down her spine.

For a few moments, neither of them moved. They only breathed in unison, heavy inhales and exhales that brought their bodies even closer together. Macauley's hand was warm even through the layers that separated them, the weight of it almost comforting on the dip of her waist.

They were so close that she could feel every hard plane of his chest and stomach, the way his muscles moved under his heated skin. But then Macauley released her, taking a few steps back, and the spell that had been cast over Cathleen was broken.

She cursed under her breath. She should have never gotten so close to him, knowing that he could grab her like that.

When she turned to look at him, Macauley spread his arms wide. "I won."

"I ken that," said Cathleen bitterly. "Will ye claim yer prize?"

Macauley didn't respond right away. Instead, he looked around at the crowd that was still watching before his gaze came to settle over her once more.

"Nay. I think I will wait fer another time," he said. "There are too many people around now."

Teasing whispers spread through the training grounds and Cathleen huffed, half in amusement and half in irritation. Macauley was both very confident and very pleased with himself, and Cathleen would have liked nothing more than to best him, but she had to reluctantly admit he was a formidable opponent, especially when he could only use one arm. Perhaps under other circumstances or if she hadn't fought such a clean and honorable fight, she could have defeated him, but she didn't want to resort to cheap tricks when her life wasn't in danger.

"I see," said Cathleen as she joined her sister once more, the two of them heading back towards the castle. She glanced at Macauley once more over her shoulder, adding, "I will be waitin'."