Chapter 14

T his was much more familiar than Anna had expected. It was a bit like a school sports day, village fete, and carnival all thrown into one—although a lot more dangerous. No three-legged races or weirdest vegetable competitions here. Instead there was fighting with staffs, fighting with swords, shooting very real arrows and throwing very real axes, not to mention wrestling and fist-fights.

Despite the air of jollity that had descended on the field beside the castle that had been set aside for the games, she couldn't help but feel the undercurrent of tension that flowed between the three families, even if the spectators were blissfully oblivious to it.

Of course, it wasn't helped by the fact that she seemed to have been adopted by Lady Maria, who had no intention of letting her get out of the ax throwing following her boast in the great hall.

So she found herself being all but dragged over to the roped off area where three targets had been set up for the competitors. The targets were not simple wooden circles with painted bullseyes, rather they were crudely stuffed figures of men like scarecrows, their centers marked with a large red blotch indicating the heart. Lovely .

A rowdy crowd had gathered around the area, cheering and jeering the competitors in equal measure. One by one, the contestants stepped up. They were all men, of course. All tall. All well-muscled. All clearly having done this before.

"Um. Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Anna muttered.

But Lady Maria wasn't listening. "Marshall!" she shouted at the balding man who was organizing the competition. "We have a late entrant. Anna here would like to take part."

The balding man scratched his head and many of the spectators turned to look in her direction. Damnation. Why couldn't she just have kept her big mouth shut?

She looked around for Emeric, desperate for some kind of support, but he was nowhere to be seen. Already down at the archery targets, at a guess. She was on her own.

"She does?" the balding man asked, looking perplexed. "Are ye certain ye ladies are in the right place? There must be a sewing competition around here ye might be more suited to."

Snickering laughter erupted at his words and annoyance replaced Anna's misgivings. She marched up to the bald man and prodded him in the chest. "Yes, actually," she snapped. "I'm damn sure I'm in the right place. You got a problem with that?"

The man blinked, taken by surprise.

"I suggest ye think very carefully about how ye answer that question," Lady Maria said to the man, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. "Or ye might just learn exactly what us women can do with a sewing needle. "

The man licked his lips and glanced between the two women. Then he gave an oily smile. "Of course! Everyone is welcome. Please, come join us."

Anna gave a tight nod and stepped up to the line of contestants. They eyed her curiously but they were wise enough not to make any smart comments.

She watched as each contestant took their turn, aiming their axes at the targets and letting them fly. Some hit their marks with precision, others missed entirely—to the delight of the spectators. There were gasps and applause in turn.

When it was finally her turn, Lady Maria gave her an encouraging pat on the back before handing her the gleaming ax. It was heavier than she had expected—heavier than the ones she'd thrown on the team-building exercise—and she held it awkwardly in her hands as she stepped up to the line. A murmur went through the observers and she could feel her cheeks growing hot under their scrutiny.

"All right, lass," the bald man said gruffly. "Ye know how to hold one of these?"

Anna glanced down at the heavy weapon in her hands, taking in its coarse wooden handle and gleaming iron head.

"I'll manage," she snapped, irritated by his condescending tone.

She thought back to the training she'd been given by the guy at the ax throwing center when they'd gone on the team-building exercise. She could remember the basics—grip tight, aim straight, throw hard—but she had a feeling it wasn't going to be quite that simple. She squeezed her fingers around the handle, sucking in a deep breath as she prepared to launch it.

The first round was predictably disastrous. Anna's throw veered widely off course, only just missing an unfortunate spectator. The crowd laughed good-naturedly, and even Anna joined in, brushing off her embarrassment with a sheepish grin.

The second round was somewhat better. Her ax still didn't hit the target, but this time at least it went in the right direction, embedding itself into the ground a few feet in front of it. The crowd roared in approval, and Anna's grin widened, feeling a rush of exhilaration. This was fun!

By the third round, she was starting to get the hang of it. With a fierce concentration and a resounding grunt, Anna let the ax go—and it flew straight and true, embedding itself deep into the edge of the target. The crowd cheered and Anna raised her arms in victory, laughing.

Her joy was short-lived, however, as one of the other competitors she hadn't noticed before walked over to her end of the line. Standing tall and imposing, with a fierce glint in his eye, she recognized the smoothly handsome features of Duncan MacDonald. A murmur of anticipation rippled through the spectators as he bowed to Lady Maria then stepped forward to take his turn.

He gave Anna a wink as he lined up his shot, taking a moment to aim before launching the ax. It spun end over end through the air with deadly precision, embedding itself into the heart of the target. The onlookers erupted into a thunderous applause and Anna felt a sinking feeling in her stomach .

Yes, of course the good-looking, perfectly muscled son of a lord would be good at this, wouldn't he?

Anna couldn't help but feel slightly deflated. Still, she wasn't here to win, she reminded herself. She was here to prove a point—that just because she was a woman that didn't mean she couldn't do this.

Duncan bowed to his audience before retrieving his ax with a wide grin. He returned to his place in the line, next to Anna.

He leaned close. "The balance of these axes is shite," he whispered. "They pull to the left. Aim slightly to the right."

She blinked, surprised that he would help her. She aimed as he'd said and with a deep breath, she let the ax go. There was a split second of silence as everyone watched its trajectory and then erupted into cheers when it struck the target and stuck. Anna let out a whoop.

"Yes!" she cried, punching the air.

Duncan laughed. "Ha! Nice throw, lass!"

Anna grinned at him. This was not the afternoon she'd envisaged when she'd woken this morning. Yet here she was, standing among burly Highland men, throwing axes at targets and thoroughly enjoying herself. Go figure.

"Thanks for the tip," she said to Duncan.

"My pleasure. Anything to see these crusty old bastards shook up a bit. I thought Marshall's heart would give out when ye said ye wanted to take part." He nodded towards the balding man who'd first made fun of her.

"Honestly?" Anna said. "I thought I would have a heart attack when I stepped up here. Do you ever get these ideas in your head that make sense at the time but end up turning out to be completely idiotic?"

Duncan snorted. "All the time, lass. All the time." He glanced over at where the other contestants were lining up for their final throws. "Well, ready for the grand finale?"

"Of course."

Anna squared her shoulders, feeling a thrill of excitement in her stomach. Around her, the crowd hushed. One by one, the other throwers took their turn, eliciting oohs and aahs from the crowd.

Duncan stepped up to throw before her, his movement graceful and smooth. The ax twirled through the air, sunlight glinting off its sharp edges in mid-flight before it embedded itself once again into the heart of the target. A smug grin flashed on Duncan's face as he bowed to the cheering crowd before stepping back.

"Ye are up," Duncan said, handing Anna an ax. "Remember what I told ye."

Anna nodded. She took a few steps back for momentum then ran, releasing the ax with all the strength she could muster. It spun as if in slow motion, revolving end over end until it thudded into the target with a satisfying smack—nowhere near the center but at least it hadn't gone spinning into the crowd.

The crowd erupted with cheering. It wasn't a winning shot. In fact, Duncan had won, and she'd come last, but it had been great fun and the crowd were now most definitely on her side. She put her arm across her stomach and gave everyone a bow then turned to see Duncan MacDonald grinning .

"Nicely done," he said. "Ye'll be the talk around here for weeks. The outland lass who took on all the men at ax throwing. Ye will be famous!"

His words made the euphoria rushing through Anna's veins subside into sudden unease. I've done it again, she thought. I've made a spectacle of myself.

She turned to look at the crowd and her eyes were drawn to Lady Maria. The woman was watching her intently. There was no smile on her face now, just a hard scrutiny and a thoughtful, almost calculating expression. She gave a slow nod of approval. This did nothing to ease the dread that suddenly pooled in Anna's stomach. In fact, it made it worse.

"Well at least Lady Maria looks pleased," she said to Duncan.

He turned to look at Maria and the smile slid off his face. "Aye. My grandmother loves to be proven right."

"Your grandmother?"

"Aye. My mother's mother. She came to live with us after my mother died. Lucky us, eh?"

Anna didn't know what to say to that. Duncan's words were heavy with sarcasm and despite the deference he showed to Lady Maria, she detected none of this in his tone. In fact, he sounded...resentful.

And she'd thought her family was complicated. There were more undercurrents swirling between these Highland families than in the ocean during a winter storm.

And why did she feel like she'd landed right in the middle of them?

THE ARROW THUNKED INTO the target dead center and the crowd roared.

"Our winner! Emeric Mackintosh!" shouted the announcer.

Emeric plastered a gracious smile onto his face, bowed to the spectators, then handed his bow and quiver over to a squire. He turned to leave, aching to get away from the adulation.

The archery competition hadn't soothed his tension the way he hoped it would. He'd found himself wound-up and out of sorts and his first two shots hadn't hit the bullseye—a rarity for him. He'd struggled to find that center of calm that he normally did when shooting arrows, that peace where the world fell away and there was only himself and the target. It had come eventually, and just in time to allow him to win the competition, but he still felt edgy and rattled.

He'd not seen Anna since the games had started and he couldn't help feeling a twinge of disappointment that she'd not come to watch him shoot. He walked off, determined to go find her.

But he'd not gone more than two paces when he was halted by Brodie Murray stepping into his path. Brodie had also taken part in the archery competition but he'd turned out to be next to useless with a bow. Not that this seemed to bother him, though. Brodie was the kind of youth who shrugged off disappointment with a grin and a laugh. Perhaps this was what Aislinn loved about him. Had he himself ever been that young and enthusiastic ?

Will ye listen to yourself? he thought. You're not even that much older than Brodie yet you go on like you're an old man. Honestly, sometimes he felt it.

"That was some shooting, brother," Brodie said, falling into step beside Emeric as he walked. Brodie had taken to calling him ‘brother' as though he and Aislinn were already married. The lad already had two brothers so Emeric had no idea why he was so keen on adding another.

"My thanks," he muttered, speeding up a little to try and leave Brodie behind. The lad didn't take the hint, trotting to keep pace.

"I was hoping to have a word with ye about the marshes."

Emeric stopped abruptly. "The marshes?"

Brodie nodded enthusiastically. "The ones on the eastern border of yer lands. Aislinn told me about yer guest—Anna is it?—and how she nearly got trapped in them. That place is a death trap for the unwary."

"Tell me something I dinna know," Emeric muttered.

"Well, I think I know a way to drain them that wouldnae take too much manpower."

Emeric seemed to remember Aislinn mentioning Brodie's interest in this. He also remembered that, like his own uncle, Brodie had spent a good deal of time studying in Italy. He was bookish and intelligent, more a scholar than a warrior, a luxury afforded a youngest son that probably wouldn't be indulged in either of his older brothers.

"My grandfather already tried to drain that swamp. It just keeps filling again."

"That's because ye didnae devise a way to deal with floodwater. "

"And how exactly do ye know that?"

Brodie shrugged. "Aislinn showed me some old plans from the keep."

"Oh, did she now?" Emeric said. What other clan information had his sister been freely handing over?

Brodie didn't seem to notice his irritation. "Aye. The problem is keeping the land from re-flooding. A big job, as ye've said. However, I think if we construct a wash to hold floodwater, as well as a series of dykes, it could be done. I could show ye some plans if ye like."

Emeric rubbed his chin. Draining the eastern marsh would free up more land for agriculture—land that would be extremely fertile. If they had more farmland available, that could only bring more wealth to the clan, making them less dependent on the MacDonalds.

"I'll speak to my uncle and arrange a time we can get together to discuss it."

Brodie grinned. "Excellent! I look forward to it!"

"Now, ye'll have to excuse me. I need to speak to Anna. Ye havenae seen her have ye?"

"Oh, aye. She's over there, taking part in the ax throwing contest."

Emeric goggled. "She's what ?"

He turned, squinting over to the far side of the field. He could make out the roped off square that had been set aside for the ax throwing. A large crowd was gathered around and he could hear oohs and ahhs coming from that direction. He narrowed his eyes at the figure that stepped forward to take their turn. He'd recognize the way she moved anywhere.

Anna .

What was she doing? Was she out of her mind? She was supposed to be keeping a low profile, curse it!

With a muttered goodbye to Brodie, Emeric hurried away. As he wove through the crowd, boisterous laughter and cheers rose and fell in a merry symphony. The smell of cooked meat and spilled ale mingled with the earthy scent of hay and animal dung. Above him, the sun was an unforgiving blaze in the cloudless sky, making his plaid stick uncomfortably to his skin. Everyone seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves but whatever pleasure he might have taken in the day had evaporated into a cloud of unease.

As he drew nearer, he noticed the excitement of those watching the ax throwing contest. Wagers were quickly swapping hands as each contestant threw, their faces strained with concentration, muscles rippling as they hurled their axes. But amongst this cluster of brawny men, every eye was fixed on one unlikely contender—Anna.

She stood at the throwing line, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked resplendent, like some warrior queen of old, and for a second, Emeric could hardly breathe at the sight of her.

And he wasn't the only one who seemed spellbound by her.

Duncan MacDonald was standing by her side, far closer than necessary. What was he doing? Why was he leaning close like that? An acid-like feeling spread through Emeric's stomach and he clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth began to ache.

Anna took up position. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, her gaze never leaving the target. She breathed in deeply, holding her breath for an instant before exhaling slowly, her body relaxing into a poised stillness.

Then, with a swift, fluid movement she ran up to the throwing line and launched the ax through the air. The crowd went silent as the weapon spun end over end, flashing in the sunlight. He watched as it embedded itself in the target with a thunderous crack.

The crowd erupted into cheering and hollering. Duncan MacDonald put his hand on her shoulder and said something that had Anna laughing. Laughing!

Emeric felt a surge of jealousy roar through him like a tempest, hot and fierce. He stood on the edge of the crowd, unnoticed, his eyes locked on Anna. She looked radiant, flushed from the exhilarating throw and the unexpected attention.

Emeric's chest clenched, the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears. She was managing to do exactly what he had asked her not to—attract attention. Not only was she mingling with too many people, she was also giving them quite a spectacle of her skills and strength. It wasn't typical for a woman to participate in such events. But then again, Anna was anything but typical—and no doubt people would be talking about this for days.

His feet moved of their own accord, propelling him towards her. The crowd parted as he stalked through.

Anna startled at his sudden arrival but then her smile widened. "Emeric! Did you see my throw?"

"Aye, I saw. "

"Quite a feat, I must say," MacDonald drawled, a smirk playing on his lips as he threw an arm around Anna's shoulders.

Emeric's fingers twitched with the urge to punch him.

"Yer lady here has quite an arm, Emeric," MacDonald continued. "I've seen men twice her size throw less accurately."

Emeric's jaw tightened, his dislike for MacDonald growing with every word he spoke. "Aye, I'm sure it was quite the spectacle." He fixed his gaze on Anna. "May I have a word?"

"Of course." Anna stepped away from MacDonald and the two of them walked side by side away from the crowd.

"How did the archery contest go?" Anna asked. "I meant to come and watch but Maria insisted I—"

"What are ye doing, Anna?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are ye flaunting yerself in front of the entire clan?"

Anna bristled at that, her cheeks flushing with indignation. "I'm not flaunting myself! I'm just enjoying the festivities like everyone else!"

"Women do not participate in ax throwing contests!" Emeric retorted, his tone sharp.

"Well, I just did. And I did quite well, if I do say so myself." Anna's voice held a defiant edge, her eyes sparkling with challenge.

Emeric's temper flared. "Did ye stop to consider the consequences? Ye made a spectacle of yerself! Everyone will be talking about this! Ye shouldnae have done it! "

"Since when do you get to decide what I can and cannot do?" Anna shot back, her eyes flashing with defiance.

Emeric ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Anna, I'm trying to keep ye safe."

The rebellious glint didn't leave her eyes. "I'm not a damsel in distress, Emeric."

"Aye, I've noticed," he snorted. "But ye have to remember we're not surrounded by friends here." He glanced towards MacDonald who was watching them closely. Lady Maria was also staring in their direction.

"There are people here who would harm ye if they knew who ye really were and where ye come from. And by participating in these contests, ye bring attention to yerself."

"I'm not some delicate piece of glassware who needs protecting, Emeric," she snapped. "I can take care of myself."

"Really?" Emeric snapped back. "Like ye could take care of yerself when I had to pull ye out of that bog the other night?"

She glared at him, her fists clenched at her sides. Around them, the festivities continued in raucous contrast to the tension crackling between them. Emeric would be damned if he would be the first to back down. She had to realize she couldn't just do whatever she liked.

But, Lord above, she was beautiful as she glared at him, her hair flying in the wind, her cheeks flushed. He felt his anger evaporating to be replaced by the almost unbearable urge to kiss her. How would it feel to have those lips on his? Her chest pressed against him? Her breath against his cheek?

"Emeric! "

The spell between them broke as a rough voice bellowed across the field. Emeric saw the tall, burly figure of the castellan approaching, an uncharacteristic grin on his face.

"Time to come and receive yer trophy," he chuckled, clasping Emeric heartily on the shoulder.

Emeric glanced at Anna. She'd crossed her arms and her expression was frosty.

He heaved a sigh, nodding at the castellan. "Aye, I'm coming."

He walked away, feeling Anna's gaze like fire on his back.