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settling her nerves, and stepped out from behind the drape, right into Connor.
    He frowned at her and her cheeks blazed with heat. “Are ye all right?” he asked.
    “Aye.” She paused but could not think of any sensible excuse for why she should be standing behind the drapes under the stands.
    “I saw Malcolm come out o’ here and I feared he had dragged off one of the serving wenches.”
    Now her cheeks truly burned. “Nay I…I wished to speak to him in private.”
    Connor folded his arms across his chest.
    She leaned forward and whispered, “I think he may be the one for me.”
    “I see.” His face did not lose the frown. Clearly he did not approve of her choice, but it was not his decision after all. “I should join the others.” He turned and stomped off to the field and Effie walked up to take her place by Isabelle on the stands.
    “This should be an interesting contest,” said Isabelle, acknowledging the contestants, unaware of what had just transpired.
    “Aye, it will be,” said Effie, noting that Connor and Malcolm were giving each other a look of death. “Good thing the swords are blunted,” she muttered.
    “I do hope so,” agreed Isabelle. “I would hate to see anyone injured.
    Yet Effie feared this was not a sentiment shared by Sir Malcolm or Sir Connor. She watched with interest as the sword fighting commenced, several fights taking place at one time with judges determining the winner of each match. She cheered as Sir Malcolm easily defeated his first match. He attacked with force, skill, and strength. She would not wish to oppose him.
    When it was Connor’s turn to fight, she leaned forward with anticipation. He was well suited for archery, but he was not as broad as many of the Highlanders. He stepped into the circle with a certain amount of caution and Effie feared he would be defeated in the first round. Yet he was able to defend himself as the other man attacked.
    Time and again his opponent charged, and Connor deflected until the other man was tired and winded, while Connor appeared much as he had at the beginning. Connor took his time, but his moves were quick and his reach was long thanks to his tall stature. When he attacked, it was quick and decisive. The judge gave him the nod; he was the winner.
    Effie clapped for his win but stifled a cheer as she noted the eyes of Sir Malcolm upon her.
    The day progressed until the final four men were called to battle for the champion of the sword. Sir Malcolm was a favorite, and Effie was not surprised he was there, but Connor also was among the top four, proving that patience, speed, and skill could also be a lethal combination.
    The four men drew straws to determine which would face each other. Malcolm and Connor were to battle. The crowd hushed as the two matches began. Effie only had eyes for Malcolm and Connor.
    “Be careful; he starts fast,” whispered Effie, though of course Connor could not hear her.
    At the signal, Malcolm charged at a full run with a yell that would cause most men to wet themselves in terror. Connor held his ground and deflected quickly, yet Malcolm stabbed with a knife as he passed. Connor ducked but still walked away holding his shoulder.
    “Is that allowed?” asked Effie, even as the judge stopped the match and spoke to Malcolm, making him put down the knife.
    “It is not allowed, but since this is the first time he has used a knife, he will be given a warning,” said Isabelle. “Still, I cannot say it is the conduct becoming of a knight.”
    “Aye,” said Effie, too focused on the fight to say more.
    Malcolm charged; Connor deflected. Malcolm swung; Connor ducked. Yet Malcolm was not tiring and Connor would need to do something more than defend himself to win this match. Malcolm charged again, and Connor not only deflected but also swung low, knocking Malcolm off his feet. The crowd cheered, but Malcolm rolled and came up swinging, hitting Connor hard on the same arm he had knifed before.
    Effie wished to