Chapter 2
There was a time when her skirts used to be the bane of her existence, but Jean quickly learned two very important things about her skirts. The first was that the very sight of a skirt meant the enemy would underestimate her. The second was that skirts were ideal for hiding weapons.
The consistent thump of the horse’s hooves beneath her had nearly lulled her into complacency, but when she sighted her target, she quietly reached into the hidden hole in her skirts.
And to the dagger strapped at her thigh.
Keeping her eyes front so she did not alert the guards around her, she slipped the dagger from its sheath and focused on her breath. She matched it easily to the horse’s hooves.
Breathe in. Thump thump thump thump. Breathe out. Thump thump thump. In. Thump thump thump thump. Out. Thump thump thump thump.
Focus. She took in her surroundings. Two guards on either side of her. One behind her. And seventeen more in front of her plus two additional riders. The sun was directly overhead, marking noon. They would be taking a short break from now. Her first chance to get off the horse in almost six hours.
And to get away.
The short shadow meant that her movements might not catch the attention of the guard behind her. There was a light breeze. Not enough, she decided, to change the course of her actions, but she still needed to be mindful of it.
No one had detected her movement. No one was giving her odd looks. Once she raised her arm, the guard behind her would see it, so her movements needed to be fast and accurate.
Smooth.
Breathe in. Thump thump thump.
Breathe out. Thump thump thump.
Breathe in. She brought the dagger up to her ear.
Breathe out. Power behind the first push, release the blade.
Thunk.
“Beautiful,” Jean crowed as the guards in front of her halted their horses and grabbed their swords. Her dagger wasn’t quite where she wanted it. Instead of embedding itself directly in the darkened knot of the fallen tree, it was two feet off.
Still, she’d hit the tree. That was something.
“Lady Jean,” Archie growled behind her. “How many times have we asked that ye not do that when we are on duty?”
A dozen times only yesterday.
She knew because she’d rolled her eyes at every one. They were three days into their trip with another two in front of them. And the trip was boring her to death.
She still didn’t understand why none of her siblings were coming along.
At least they were entertaining. Her oldest brother was acting as laird in their father’s absence.
She understood that, but her three sisters had no reason to be left behind.
Sure, they weren’t that close, but at least they were amusing.
The guards, many of whom she counted as friends, were always so stoic whenever they were traveling. Any other time, they would have appreciated the improvement in her accuracy.
“My apologies, Archie,” she sighed as she pulled to a stop and dismounted. Quickly, she retrieved her dagger. When she turned, most of the guards had continued on ahead, but one rider had stopped.
Immediately, she knew she was in trouble. “Father,” she said as she dipped her head in respect.
“Daughter.” There was a look of exasperation on his face as he dismounted. “Walk with me. The guards are scouting at area for us to rest.”
“Mother?”
“She’s riding ahead with them.”
Jean tried not to wrinkle her nose. Her mother was almost always on her side, so it didn’t bode well that she wasn’t there now. “I already apologized to Archie…”
“Sneaking a weapon past Archie means that he will be punished,” her father said mildly.
Connor Sinclair rarely raised his voice at her.
Only once had he lost his temper with her, and that had been when she had tried to run away at sixteen and join the guards who were riding out to deliver a missive to the king.
They had, of course, caught her immediately and escorted her back.
Her father had been livid. As he had paced and shouted, he had looked a far cry from the Sinclair laird.
That was three years ago, but apparently, her transgression would never be forgotten. Every little thing she did now was always under scrutiny.
“Ye will not punish him,” she pointed out. “‘Tis not his fault, and ye know it. They dinnae search me as well as they used to.”
“Because ye are a woman, Jean. A woman of marriageable age.”
Halter in hand, Jean winced as they started to walk. Here it comes. The marriage talk. For the past year, that had been all her father could talk about. Who Jean might marry.
She had yet to tell her father that she didn’t intend to marry anyone. Though she didn’t believe her father would force her into a marriage, it was not unheard of, and she didn’t want to push him too far.
“So if a woman of marriage age came onto our lands with a weapon hidden, then we would be in trouble.”
“Jean.” His voice took on a sharper edge, and she sighed.
“Everyone is allowed to carry a weapon, and yet ye deny me this.”
“I deny it to ye because of this.” He gestured to the road. “A month ago there were reports of a group of robbers that took down a group twice as big as this! We are on high alert, and ye are not only distracting the guards with yer play?—”
“Training,” Jean said hotly.
“But ye put yerself at risk as well. If Archie had not seen ye throw the knife, he would have suspected it had come from elsewhere, and the guards would have broken formation to fight off the threat.”
He held out his hand, and with a sigh, she turned over the weapon. Complaining about it would make her seem like a child, and she had to admit that she’d acted out of boredom.
“Why am I the only daughter ye are dragging off to the Armstrong lands with ye?” She sighed as they continued to walk again. Ahead of them, some guards waited on foot to escort them to their breaking spot.
“‘Tis not that ye are the only daughter I’m bringing. ‘Tis that ye are the only daughter I feared leaving behind,” Connor muttered and then smiled affectionately. “Besides, I thought ye would like to see Liam again. ‘Tis been a few years.”
Despite her annoyance, she smiled. It would be good to see Liam again. He was the only friend who never feared to spar with her. He’d even taught her to sword fight when they were young.
She was greatly improved now, and she was looking forward to showing him just how skilled she was.
“Ye are bringing an awfully large amount of guards for this to just be a friendly visit,” Jean observed. There were twenty guards several hours ahead of them and another twenty guards several hours behind. Her father would never travel with this many unless he was expecting trouble.
“Calm yer mind,” Connor said reassuringly. “The number is for show only. Laird Armstrong is concerned about a neighboring clan, and he hopes to squelch any future skirmish with a reminder that he is a powerful clan with powerful friends.”
Jean accepted the explanation and squinted her hazel eyes up at her father.
He was a tall man, well over six feet, and her mother was tall for a woman.
All her siblings were tall, and she had high hopes that she would also be, but alas, fate had not been on her side.
Being a few inches over five feet meant she had to look up to anyone who was not a child.
At least she had gotten her mother’s luscious dark hair.
At first, she despaired of her small height, but now she decided that it, like her gender, could be used to her advantage. Her enemies would underestimate her.
“Why do ye wish to fight, Jean? We are a clan at peace. There is no need for ye to be a warrior.”
It was not the first time her father had asked her that, but it did seem to be the first time he was expecting an answer.
“Ye and Mother were not expecting to live the life ye had,” she reminded him. “Ye were taken off guard, and ye both nearly died for it. I will not be a helpless damsel. The world may be at peace, but there are still dangers everywhere. I intend to never let my guard down.”
“I promised to protect ye, Jean. Why do ye not believe that?” He sighed.
“Ye have an entire clan to think about,” Jean said quietly. “Ye cannot always be there.”
Occasionally, her mother still limped. A leftover marker from a heinous injury she’d acquired when Connor had not been around to protect her.
She didn’t blame her father, nor did her mother, but she knew her father blamed himself.
When the keep was quiet, and they thought no one could hear them, they would whisper about the time they had almost lost each other.
The pain of that had traveled with them, more than twenty years later. As a child, Jean used to think about that. She did not fear that she would be a victim. Merely dreamed that she could be a hero. That she could protect those who could not protect themselves.
As the daughter of a laird, it was an easy dream to have.
Especially this laird. The Sinclair Clan was a powerful and wealthy one.
Her people were well-fed and healthy. Her uncle was laird of the MacKays.
Her aunt the wife of the Hamilton laird.
She and her cousins were well-cared for, well-loved.
They wanted for nothing, but she’d traveled with her father on some occasion.
She’d seen people who were not so lucky.
She just wanted to help, to be worth more than a marriage.
“If I have done anything to cause ye fear, my daughter, then I am sorry. I would give my life for ye. I hope ye know that,” her father sighed as he bent down and kissed her forehead.
“I know, Father.”
“Excellent.” Holding her a little longer, he quietly passed the dagger back to her, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Promise me that ye will try to be on yer best behavior while we are on Armstrong lands. They have much to worry about.”
“I only want to help.”
“Good. Perhaps for the rest of the trip, ye can travel with yer mother. She worries about ye. ‘Twould put her mind at ease.”
Moira Sinclair did not fear for her daughter. Not like Connor did, and they both knew that. Still, Jean smiled as she slipped her dagger back in place and promised to stay with them for the rest of the trip.
Now that she knew Liam would be there, she had an ambush to plan. She did so enjoy knocking the laird-to-be off his feet whenever they met, and this time would be no different.