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"Twenty men, twelve men, we've no idea of the goddamn route or it's going to be the main road. We're running around like total idiots," Blackthorne stormed.

"It's a fairly small number, I could try to arrange ambushes along a couple of routes and hope for the best," Ian responded.

"Or you could put a fucking man with a scouting glass up on a fucking mountain top and see who's telling the truth."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Morons."

"We've received word they're training more women, Lord."

"Of course they are. Fucking amazons, the lot of them. Are you going to piss your pants, Ian?"

"Nay, Lord."

"Good."

"Hopefully," Ailene said, "when we practiced yesterday, you learned it's possible to survive fights even against superior numbers if you're canny. And how do you accomplish it, Lachlan?"

"Draw them into places where they all can't get to you at once, or someplace where they can't surround you where you can stand them off until help arrives, or distracting one while killing the other."

"Or try to maneuver so one is always getting in the way of the other. Opponents can be used to get in one another's way with sudden shifts of position," Ailene reminded them. "Today, those who did best yesterday will be fighting one against three or two against four. The rest of you have a lot of work to do to catch up. Remember when you're working together with someone to pay attention to the way they fight. Do they excel at offense or defense, attack high or low, favor the left or right. Anticipating what they will do will make what you need to do clearer. And don't forget to warn each other. It doesn't make any difference if you're on the side with the most men, or the least, if you see one of your lads being sucked into a trap, warn him. You may have the numbers in some battles, doesn't mean we want you dying needlessly, even if the victory will eventually be ours. I'd rather the enemy lose one hundred of his than lose one of mine. You didn't do enough warning yesterday. Three combats could have ended differently than they did if only you'd warned someone."

"Why do you pit us against more opponents when we did well yesterday? Seems like we should be rewarded if we did better."

"Because you don't learn as much by winning as you do by dying. When you're killed, you're motivated to do more the next time so you won't be. The winner becomes complacent and doesn't work to improve his skills. Do I do you any favors by letting you get by for killing two folks today, when tomorrow you might face three or four? Nay, I do not. If I let you get killed by three opponents when I could have worked you hard enough to need six to kill you, I haven't done a proper job. I took on ten men once before I was killed. Some of it was skill, some of it was luck, but most of it was hard work. You're not afraid of a little work are you?"

"Nay, Lady Ailene."

"I don't anticipate ever being able to survive nine men again because I'm giving you all of my secrets, but if you don't work as hard as me, I'll still get four or five of you before I go down, I promise you. Anyone want to take me on now?"

No one answered.

"Good. You three go against Landry. You three go against, Lachlan. What's your name again, lad?"

"Tom, Lady."

"You three go against Tom here. He looks like he's ready to eat four of you for lunch." Tom laughed. "You four can go against Grant and Tam. Remember what I said about helping each other out on the battlefield. No one dies from too much warning. One group at a time, first one get out there."

"For tonight's meeting," Isobel said, "you're to say we're now training six lasses and another two have asked to join. Additionally, the men are training harder and longer, looking like they're getting ready for something big in the near future. You can tell him Frang is concerned about the status of the farm, more and more workers are being asked to increase their training and the farming is suffering. He complains Thorburn wants too much of him. He's taking too much of his strength, the men are being overworked. We'll have a few of the other loyal men complain in the presence of others so your stories will have some weight."

"Aye, Lady."

"Are you ready to go some more. I think you should be able to practice until lunch today, don't you, Meghan?"

"Aye, I'm ready."

"We had another meeting last night, Bonnie. You need to pass this information on tonight," Teárlag whispered as they watched the men practicing. The clanging of their swords limited the ability of anyone to listen unless they were standing right there.

"What information is that, Lady Mackintosh?"

"There's now eighteen women taking up martial training between the two farms. Ailene and Isobel are very pleased with their progress. They assured Thorburn they'll be ready when Thorburn's ready to act. While in Dervaig, Thorburn's going to be meeting with the magistrate. He didn't say why, but perhaps it's more about the servant girl. I also understand he's looking for a doctor. I don't believe it's for his health. He's healthy as a horse the way he ruts in bed with me. I believe he's looking for a former army doctor.

"The twenty new men arrived from Lady Luck Farm. I thought sure Blackthorne would try to stop them. Frang complained through them he can't afford to send anymore until he gets more people trained. His farm is suffering as it is. He said it would be another month at least before he could send more. Thorburn wasn't too happy about it. You can see how grumpy he is today. He's completely turned over the new training to Lady Ailene. I don't know why a woman would want to be out there sweating and getting dirty. It's so low class. She forgets she's a lady. She hasn't done needlework in days. Fights all day and fucks her husband all night. Like a pair of animals, they are. I shall be so glad when we're done with this and I can go back to Blackthorne Manor."

"You want me to pass all this on right now, Lady?"

"Certainly, no later than tonight. Don't you see? There seems to be a rift forming between the brothers. Frang has his own property now and doesn't see why he should necessarily support Thorburn's goals. Perhaps there's something to exploit in Frang's or Thorburn's dissatisfaction. I imagine Thorburn will want to fuck tonight to assuage his anger. I hope he's not too brutal."

"I will make arrangements, Lady."

"Good. I'd like to wear my green dress tonight. Please ensure it's ready. Go on now."

"Very well. I shall do as you wish." Bonnie left.

Teárlag sighed. She would have to ensure Thorburn pretended to fuck her tonight. He'd be unhappy to do so. He was always unhappy when he had to feign he cared for her still. It was easier for him when he left her alone and didn't have to act. Meal times were always the worst because he was forced to appear enamored of her, pay her attention, pet and kiss her.

Despite his repugnance, Teárlag always appreciated the times he must pretend. It was the last bit of joy she had left; pretending for a few moments Thorburn could still love her. Always, the sadness crept back in when he left the table abruptly and she didn't see him until he came to bed. It was so hard to keep smiling, keep laughing, like she was preparing to be married. It was even worse seeing the joy and affection Stuart and Ailene had for one another. Stuart was always touching her, kissing her, hugging her, appreciating every moment they had together. Teárlag supposed he was sipping at every drop of honey he could before Ailene surrendered herself to Blackthorne as there were no guarantees she would escape unscathed. Every moment was precious to them and it showed in every particle of their beings when they were together.

There were times, at night, in the depths of his slumber, where Thorburn would put his arms around her and curl against her back, and she would gratefully snuggle against his hard warmth. But whenever he woke up and realized his closeness to her, he'd pull away, turn on his back or to the other side, disgusted he'd touched her. When he hugged her in his sleep were her best moments of the day. When he pulled away in revulsion were the worst moments of her day and she often wept silently when she realized he couldn't stand to touch her. She felt like crying now, thinking of it, but resisted and instead plastered a smile upon her face and waved to Thorburn as he paced up to the house.

"Good afternoon, Thorburn. Are you ready for lunch? Shall I have the cook set a table for you?"

"Not yet. I'll wait until Ailene is done with training and eat with the lads after I speak to her."

"As you wish." It looked like he was unwilling to pretend, even for lunch today. He always sat down to supper, so she'd have to wait for then.

He went into the house to consult with Stuart, probably about the Estate. Stuart was spending more time with the farm and Thorburn less as the pace of training increased, though Stuart was also spending more time with the archers. Nobody escaped from training. Actually, she wouldn't mind training with Ailene. It would give her something to do, but wouldn't align with her image as hopeless, which she tried to maintain with her maid. So much of her day was spent doing nothing but watching other people work. Even her needlework bored her to tears. She would prefer just staying in Thorburn's room reading, but felt she needed to make frequent appearances so people could see how happy she was, when in reality, she'd be happy to die.