'You're just in time, my lady. This promises to be interesting.'
Holding on to her temper, she kept her voice low so that only the two of them were privy to it. 'These men are guests here, Murdo. How could you have allowed this?'
'Come, my lady, it is but a friendly bout, no more.'
'If it is then it's thanks to Lord Ban.'
He was about reply when another presence drew his attention, and Isabelle saw his gaze harden. Looking round she saw Ban standing beside them and, for a brief moment, glimpsed anger in his eyes as he faced Murdo. Then it was gone and he was looking at her. The memory of that recent kiss was all too vivid and her pulse quickened.
'I didn't know you were interested in swordplay, my lady.' His tone was pleasant, his manner suggesting that this was no more than a little light amusement even though they both knew it was not. She was grateful to him, knowing how much this must be testing his self-control. It was another side to him that she had not suspected. More than ever she felt it incumbent on her to try to smooth things over.
'My lord, I deeply regret all this.'
'No cause,' he replied. 'It is but a friendly challenge, as Murdo says.'
The tone was light but she could feel the antipathy between the two men. Then her attention was drawn by movement elsewhere and Isabelle looked away, her attention on the combatants.
Both were circling with slow care, intent, never taking their eyes from their opponent's blade. It went on for some seconds. Then, almost as though by some silent mutual agreement, they launched themselves into the fray. Isabelle bit her lip, watching closely. Even her untutored eye could see that both men had been well trained for each sword seemed like an extension of the arm that held it. Both protagonists were strong, both determined. However, the younger man had the edge in terms of agility, moving out of danger with lithe impressive grace while the older relied on brute strength to force his path. The great swords carved the air, each seeking for a weakness in the other's defence, their wicked blades glinting in the hard light, the ring of steel loud in the hot still yard. Sparks flew and several times the blades came perilously close to flesh. Isabelle drew in a sharp breath and looked up at Ban.
'Isn't this supposed to be a friendly bout?' she murmured.
He smiled faintly. 'No cause for alarm, my lady.'
'No, indeed,' said another voice behind her.
Isabelle turned to see Hugh. She had been so engrossed she hadn't even noticed his arrival.
'I hope not, Brother.'
'Murdo would never let it get out of hand,' he went on.
She was deeply sceptical about that but vouchsafed no reply, for now Taggart had renewed the attack, pushing forwards, apparently driving Davy before him. She bit her lip hard to stifle a cry of dismay, but a second later realised the move had been a ruse, for the younger man whirled on heel, dodging the blow aimed at his head and leaving only empty space. Thrown off balance, Taggart staggered. It was enough. Davy's blade swung round and caught his opponent's unguarded arm. It was a shallow cut, but a bright streak of blood bloomed on the instant.
The sight was greeted with a tense silence and then grudging applause in some parts of the assembled crowd. Ewan and Jock grinned broadly but ventured no word, clearly feeling that Davy's prowess as a swordsman had just spoken much louder. Isabelle breathed a sigh of relief.
'None now can doubt the reputation of Glengarron,' she said. 'It is most clearly merited.' Her gaze flicked to Murdo and she threw him a cool look before turning back to Ban. 'Your man fought well, my lord.'
'You are gracious, my lady.'
'It is no more than the truth,' said Hugh. 'Truly it was a most excellent performance.'
Ban inclined his head in acknowledgement of the compliments. Isabelle turned to look at Murdo. His expression was like thunder. Ordinarily she would have felt apprehensive, but now the sight afforded her a strange satisfaction.
'Aren't you going to say anything, Murdo?' she asked.
A muscle jumped in his cheek but when he spoke his voice was level. 'It was a good bout and, as Lady Isabelle said, your man fought well, my lord.'
'I thought so too,' replied Ban.
'It's the truth.' Hugh glanced once at the master-at-arms. 'Taggart was completely outclassed, no question.'
Murdo's gaze hardened but he said nothing more. Ban looked at Hugh.
'If you would excuse me for a moment, I would speak with my men.'
Isabelle watched him walk away. She saw him join Jock and Ewan. Ignoring surly glances from some of the spectators, they exchanged a few quiet words and then all three went to speak to Davy. The young man was leaning on his sword point to catch his breath. She saw Ban clap him on the shoulder. Though she could not catch his words it was clear from the younger man's expression they contained high praise and it was merited. Davy had acquitted himself well which was more than could be said for Castlemora. Isabelle glanced with distaste across the intervening space to where Taggart stood. He was still holding the gash on his arm and blood dripped through his fingers. On his face was a look of cold malice. Without warning, he raised his sword and rushed at Davy's unguarded back.
Isabelle cried out, 'No!'
Everyone looked round. Davy whirled and was just in time to block the blow aimed at him. The blades slid and locked at the hilts. Almost simultaneously he brought his knee up hard into his attacker's groin. The latter grunted and doubled up gasping, his weapon falling uselessly from his hand. A second later the point of Davy's blade was at his throat. For a moment the air was charged with tension. Several hands had moved towards sword hilts.
Hugh strode forwards and looked with contempt at the fallen man. 'Is it not bad enough that you were bested, Taggart, without your turning backstabber?' Without waiting for a reply, Hugh turned to Ban. 'I apologise for this cowardly deed, my lord. It disgraces the name of Castlemora.'
'Your apology is accepted, sir. The man acted independently, and Castlemora is in no way to blame.'
He looked meaningfully at Davy. The latter paused a moment, then nodded and put up his sword. Hugh managed a tight smile in response and then looked coldly at Taggart.
'You will collect your belongings and be gone. We have no use here for such as you.' He paused and turned to the master-at-arms. 'See to it, Murdo.'
The latter inclined his head in acquiescence, his expression quite impassive. However, when she glanced his way Isabelle intercepted a look of cold fury directed towards Taggart. No doubt he would send the brute off with a few choice words. This summary banishment was a fitting punishment. It was a pity, she reflected, that Murdo was not leaving with him. As it was, he would doubtless be smarting from this humiliation but for the life of her she could not feel sorry for it. Rather she was proud of Hugh. In that moment he looked and sounded like the laird he would one day become. As for their guest, he had most adroitly turned the situation around.
As though he sensed her regard, Ban looked round and met her gaze. She felt her cheeks grow red. What must he be thinking? How well she understood her brother's anger over what had occurred. The laws of hospitality were sacred, a tradition that had ever been upheld at Castlemora. Wishing to show her solidarity with Hugh and to try to calm the waters, she spoke to Ban.
'Like my brother I deeply regret what happened here, my lord.'
'Pray, do not be uneasy,' he replied. 'The incident has been dealt with and the matter is closed.'
'You are generous, my lord,' said Hugh.
'Such things happen in the heat of the moment.' Ban glanced at Taggart, who had now staggered to his feet. 'No doubt he will repent of it soon enough.'
Hugh's lip curled. 'I would say he repents of it already. The mettle of Glengarron has been proved anew.'
'It should never have been called into question,' said Isabelle.
Lord Ban bowed. 'As ever you are gracious, my lady.'
His gaze flicked towards Murdo, who stood nearby. Isabelle's followed it. Now there was no sign of emotion on the man's face and he returned the look steadily, yet she sensed the anger simmering beneath. For a moment she wondered if he too would offer an apology to their guest, but he said nothing. All around them his men were silent too, though the very air was laden with their displeasure. Once again she was made aware of how numerous they were and how powerful a force they had become. Their resentment was dangerous, and they had just been shown up. They would not forgive or forget.
* * *
On their return to the hall Hugh ordered a servant to fetch ale and then saw their guests supplied with his own hand. Having done so, he made them a formal apology. Isabelle heard him with surprise. It was the first time she had ever heard him question a decision of Murdo's, even by implication, and it pleased her greatly. Was Hugh beginning to trust his own judgement at last? It seemed he too had been much angered by what had occurred.