This is the last excerpt of Medieval Monday. To put it all in context, here is the full scene. A guess at who wins the fist fight.
Here
is the full excerpt!
The
Highlander’s English Woman by Ruth A. Casie
Jamie turned
to the family sitting around the hearth. Wesley slouched in his chair staring
at the fire, grief still raw on his face. He had aged over the year. His gray
hair thinned, his eyes rimmed red and dulled with pain.
“He’s been
like this since we buried... the burial.” Laura, Richard’s sister, was next to
him. “Father tires easily and stays locked up inside himself. Mother is the
sole person who can reach him, although I have hope. Alex did make him laugh.”
Jamie’s focus
turned to Laura, the younger of the two sisters. Laura and Lisbeth were alike
from their slender, petite size bodies, long auburn hair, and large green eyes
with a fan of thick lashes. The sisters may be similar in appearance, however,
not in temperament. Lisbeth was the deep thinker. Laura was head strong and
outspoken, the feistier defiant sister.
“How are you
and Lisbeth faring?” He gazed back at Wesley.
“It’s a
challenge keeping everyone’s spirits up. At times, I succeed.” She shrugged.
“Other times, I fail miserably. Lisbeth stayed at the Keep for a while then
left for the hunting lodge to be alone.”
Jamie turned
to her. Her drawn ashen face disturbed him.
“The rain has stopped.
Would you care to take some fresh air in the garden?” Jamie presented his arm.
Laura answered by looping her arm through his and drew him out the door.
He went
willingly. Her warmth chased away any lingering chill from his journey. She’s Richard’s little sister, a warning
voice whispered in his head. He took a breath and led her to the garden door.
“I understand
you’re skeptical of Lisbeth’s gift, but she told me she saw Richard’s death
before Bryce carried... brought Richard home. Now, she blames herself for not
taking action.” Laura sighed heavily. “Everyone blames themselves. Father
shouldn’t have let him go, not that he could stop Richard. Mother should have
seen this coming, not that she could. And Lisbeth...”
“I understand all too well. I berated myself
for not being with him, protecting his back.” They reached the stone porch.
Formal gardens
sprawled before them with raised flower beds, neat hedges, and bare trellises
waiting for next year’s roses. He waited with her in silence, willing her his
strength.
“Is it wise
for Lisbeth to be alone?” Jamie finally asked, and gazed past the lawn to the
well-worn path on the other side of the garden gate.
“She’s not
unaccompanied. John escorted her to the hunting lodge at Ann’s request, over
Lisbeth’s heated protest.” She turned to him. “I haven’t thanked you for coming
to us. I know The Maxwell has his demands and travel is a hardship.”
He stilled her
trembling hand. Her brows creased in pain over eyes that stared off without
seeing. He waited.
“I find it
difficult to comprehend we’ll not see Richard again.” Laura’s voice choked and
she shrugged with resignation despite tears that threatened at the edges of her
eye.
“Me as well,”
Jamie said. He had the same thoughts.
“How long are
you staying with us?” Her question was reasonable but he dreaded answering.
“I return to
Caerlaverock tomorrow.” He took a deep breath and saw a momentary flash of
disappointment in her eyes.
“Then we best
return to the others. They’ll want to spend time with you, too.” They moved on
toward the hall.
“I have no
words, nothing to say to comfort you.” He could barely get the words out.
“Your presence
is enough.”
He held back a
nervous smile. He visited to give the family comfort. Instead, she comforted
him.
“How are my
Maxwell cousins?” Laura asked. Jamie guided her toward the great hall.
“They are well
when I last saw them.”
“You’ll let me
know your decision, Wesley.”
Jamie brought
Laura to a halt. An exasperated male voice drifted out of the great hall.
“I want to
make the announcement as soon as possible. With Richard gone and Glen Kirk so
close to the Scottish border, you need someone strong to hold back the devils.”
Lord Bryce Mitchell of Ravencroft, the manse next to Glen Kirk, stood with
Wesley and Darla.
Standing at
the great hall entrance, Jamie stiffened when Laura’s pulse skittered into a
panic beneath his fingertips. Jamie’s free hand covered hers until the beat
settled into a normal rhythm. If Bryce couldn’t feel sympathetic toward the
family, couldn’t he at least curb his speech?
“You didn’t
waste any time getting here.” The rude remark directed toward Jamie raised his
temper even more. The man’s baiting tactics hadn’t changed since they served
Wesley as squires. Surely he wasn’t foolish to pick a fight with him, at least not
here.
When they
trained, Bryce took aim at him whenever possible, most often urged on by Reeve.
Richard and the girls rallied to his defense, but Bryce’s intolerance of
Jamie’s Scottish background stayed near the surface.
Bryce gasped for air, seething after having lost a foot race to
him.
“You’re nothing. A filthy Scot beggar. Go back to your tribe of
mongrels. You’re not fit to be here.” Bryce pushed him hard.
Jamie didn’t go down. Not satisfied, Bryce rushed at him again,
this time with fists. Jamie ducked and backed off. Bryce kept up the assault.
Jamie didn’t care for bullies or being baited by them. He wouldn’t
fight.
“Here, here Bryce. That’s enough.” Richard grabbed his neighbor’s
arm but Bryce shook him off. Reeve pulled Richard back.
“Enjoy the spectacle. It’s time he learned his place,” Reeve said.
“Stay out of this,” Bryce screamed at Richard, then turned to
Jamie. “Fight, or are you a puny coward, too?”
Jamie said nothing. He held his fists at his side and stepped back
again.
The fight started in the yard, progressed to the field, and
finished near the pond. A small group of people followed and urged Jamie to
defend himself.
The next punch caught the Scotsman in the chest. He didn’t flinch.
“You should be lying on the ground by now. Don’t say I didn’t warn
you.” Jamie pulled up his arms to protect his face as best he could against the
onslaught of punches. He didn’t retaliate.
His face cut and bloodied, he still didn’t strike back.
“Fight, damn you,” Bryce shouted and followed with a quick barrage
of solid body punches.
He held his position and didn’t fight back.
In a close clinch, Bryce muttered for Jamie’s ear only. Jamie
pushed his tormentor away. Years of restraint from insults and attacks
disappeared with the maliciously whispered words.
Bryce threw his punch. Jamie caught the left jab in his palm
mid-strike. Alarm and panic flashed in Bryce’s eyes. The bully stared at
Jamie’s hand holding his fist.
Jamie almost tore Bryce’s arm out of its socket as he pushed it
aside and set his stance, one foot in front of the other.
For a moment Jamie thought to stop the madness, but the idea
quickly died. Bryce had no idea what he let loose.
Before Bryce threw his next punch, Jamie exploded with a rapid
cannon volley of left jabs at Bryce’s jaw. Stunned, Bryce dropped his defenses.
Jamie’s right cross burst from his shoulder as he shifted from his
back leg to his front, throwing all his weight into the swing. He caught Bryce
squarely in the face. Blood exploded in an arc of fine spray as Bryce’s head
snapped back. Droplets flew, the warm blood spattered across Jamie’s face.
Bryce’s head came forward. Jamie followed with a left uppercut and
caught him under his chin. The solid strike lifted Bryce into the air, then
sent him to the ground. To everyone’s amazement, Bryce laid unconscious at
Jamie’s feet. No one said a word as he stood panting over the prone figure.
Every ounce of him wanted to drag Bryce on his feet for another round. Instead,
he marched away.
LAST
CHANCE! Be sure to leave a comment for me to be in the running for my giveaway
– an eCopy of The Highlander’s English
Woman. A winner will be randomly selected and announced next week on
Medieval Monday, September 9th.
The Highlander’s English Woman
Laura Reynolds is in love with her
long-time friend, Jamie Maxwell Collins. She adores his playful sense of humor,
caring nature as well as his strong sense of family and honor.
Jamie lives across the border in
Scotland. Outwardly carefree, he hides a dark secret. He can’t involve Laura in
this deception. He can’t give her hope for a future together.
Laura stumbles upon Jamie’s secret.
In her heart of hearts she knows Jamie is innocent. Their relationship in
tatters and with no hope of reconciliation, she plays a deadly game to
exonerate Jamie, she agrees to a political marriage. She has no idea the
entire game has been orchestrated by her future husband, Jamie’s greatest
enemy.
