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with that blackguard. He’d drop off soon enough.
    Everything proceeded in respectable civility until Sean and the leaders rounded a farmhouse at the halfway point. Two brigands wearing chausses and shirts sprang from nowhere, barreling straight toward Sean. Startled by the movement of the first attacker, Sean’s instincts took over. Ducking, he flung the bastard over his back. When the second one hit, he wasn’t so lucky. Walloped in the side of the head, he stagger-stepped sideways until he crashed to the ground.
    It was bad enough to have the contestants fighting each other, but now hoodlums had been planted? Someone must have a very large wager indeed.
    Sean scrambled to his feet, fists at the ready. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Duncan throw a boot into number one’s gut. Sean eyed the second man and aimed a blow at the hinge of his jaw. Hitting his mark, teeth cracked. The bastard’s hands flew to his face before he collided with the dirt.
    Duncan beckoned him. “Hurry.”
    Sean ran beside his friend. “Who were those swine?”
    “No idea.” Duncan took in a deep inhale. “But I’m certain they were waiting for you. They darted straight for you without a mind to the others.”
    Sean sped his pace. “We can still win if we push.”
    Duncan waved him on. “This is your sport. Go.”
    Sean sprinted for the leaders, more intent than ever to win. Someone had set a trap for him—knew he was the man to beat.
    ***
    Most of the spectators lined the outer bailey wall-walk on the Loch Etive side of the castle, all straining for a glimpse of the leaders in the footrace. Gyllis stood beside Helen, barely able to contain her excitement.
    Yes, Sean had appeared a tad despondent when she’d given him her kerchief, but after all, he was preparing for a race. If they hadn’t been interrupted last eve, she would have given it to him then. But she didn’t want to think about that now. The weather was fine and Sean would sit with her during the feast just as they’d planned. She needn’t consider a thing beyond that at the moment.
    “There they are,” someone yelled.
    Gyllis cast her gaze toward the wood. Four runners barreled out of the trees, racing for the castle. The second man shoved the leader, who swung back his elbow. The closer they came to the finish line, the more the runners pushed with fists swinging.
    “How can they stay ahead of the pack when they’re fighting like that?” Helen asked.
    “The fighting has most likely just begun,” said a man behind them.
    A fifth man darted from the forest. Gyllis made out Sean’s long stride, close behind the fighting leaders.
    Alice shook her finger. “Look! Alan MacCoul is winning.”
    Unable to believe it, Gyllis leaned further over the crenel notch. Sure enough, Alan had shoved his way into the lead. “But Sir Sean’s speeding around them.”
    Shouts from the crowd grew louder.
    Gyllis hopped in place and clapped her hands. “Faster, Sir Sean!”
    Alice shook her fists in the air. “Run like the wind, Mr. MacCoul.”
    Gyllis gave her sister a firm whack on the shoulder. “Excuse me. How can you cheer for that blackguard after he threatened Sir Sean with his dirk last eve?”
    Alice stopped hopping up and down. “He did?”
    “Aye.” With a well-founded nod, Gyllis returned her attention to the race. Sean indeed was moving closer to the lead, now one or two paces behind Alan. Her gaze darted to the finish line. I don’t think he can make it. Heavens, if Alan wins, it will upset everything .
    Sean closed the gap. Alan struck out with his right. Sean clutched his arm and stumbled over the finish line right behind that blasted MacCoul. Within the blink of an eye, the Lord of Lorn’s officials surrounded Sean.
    “He’s been cut!” someone yelled from below.
    Gasping, Gyllis started for the stairwell.
    “You shall remain up here, young lady.” Mother grasped her shoulder.
    “But Sir Sean’s been hurt.”
    Mother rolled her eyes with a tsk of