Page 41 of The Scot

Chapter 17

The last time Terric had laughed this hard, his brother had fallen from the loft inside their stables at Bradon Moor. Some might call him uncharitable to laugh at such a thing, but Rory had been seducing the stablemaster’s daughter at the time—and Terric had entered the stables with the girl’s father. He’d tumbled to the ground while hurriedly attempting to don his trewes.

Their parents had not been as amused.

Admittedly, Roysa did not seem greatly amused by the story that currently had him in stitches. Idalia was telling them, in great detail, about her sister’s first attempt to practice archery with her male counterparts. She had arrived at the training yard barefoot, as was the practice of many archers, and demanded a bow. Idalia admitted to not being present at the time, but her father had gladly shared the tale with them that night at supper. He’d explained that only those using a longbow needed to forsake footwear, the extra grip needed to steady an accurate shot.

Apparently it had not been her first attempt to train with the men. Her visit to the archery butts had been her way of rebutting her father’s denial of her request for a sword.

It was the image of a young Roysa standing in her bare feet, likely in a lovely gown, among a group of full-grown knights that had made him start laughing, and he found he could not stop. Lance and Idalia both joined him, and Terric could not blame Gilbert for looking at them all as if they’d gone mad. Terric raised a cup to his marshal, who sat just below them, and though Gilbert raised his goblet in return, he could tell the poor man worried for his sanity.

“I would gladly show you how to use a longbow.” He waved away the pudding and dried fruits, realizing belatedly that Roysa may have wanted them. “However . . .”

His three supper companions waited as Terric attempted to keep his expression neutral.

“I would require just one thing . . .”

He’d meant it as a jest, but the look on Roysa’s face made him hard in an instant. The way she’d parted her lips told him she was thinking about being his partner somewhere other than on the training yard.

“What is it?” Idalia asked at last. “What is the one thing?”

Thankfully, neither she nor Lance seemed to have noticed the tension between them. Slowing his rapidly beating heart with a long, expelled breath that he did not bother hiding from Roysa, Terric turned toward his friends.

“I would only ask that she leave her boots behind.”

His shoulders shook as Lance and Idalia began to laugh once again. Even Roysa smiled despite their teasing.

He liked that she did not take offense.

He liked much about her.

Her laugh. The way she spoke to Lance, as if he were her brother in truth and not by marriage. It had not taken her long to learn what Terric had known since that awful day at the tournament. A finer man would be difficult to find, and the sight of Lance and Idalia together, so happy, made Terric wonder, for a brief moment, if it were indeed possible . . .

“I’ll do it.”

Roysa broke into his reverie.

“What will you do?” he asked, having momentarily forgotten their conversation.

“I will leave my boots behind if you’ll indeed train me with the longbow.”

He thought of bringing Roysa to the training yard in Bradon Moor. It would be the middle of the summer, and she’d stand there barefoot, her hands holding a bow the size of her own body. Terric would stand behind her, instructing her, touching her with the freedom of . . . what? Her husband?

The thought was both disturbing and pleasing.

She waited for his response.

“You would be forced to remain until the spring. I do not recommend training barefoot in the snow.”

Neither of them were laughing any longer.

Lance and Idalia had begun speaking behind him, talking of something else.

“You may be forced to do so anyway, if Dromsley Castle is under siege,” he said.

“Will it be?”

At this moment, he wished it were so. He found he quite liked the thought of being in Roysa’s company for months on end.