Trusting a Chieftain (The Soulmate Chronicles Book 3) by Keira Montclair

Author:Keira Montclair [Montclair, Keira]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Keira Montclair
Published: 2022-06-19T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Cait felt sick deep in her belly. Why had no one told her there was a way to stop a man in his tracks?

She couldn’t help but think of that one man who only got excited when he punched a woman or pinned her down and hurled insults at her. Of course Roy, Agnes, and Mabel wouldn’t tell her such a thing—it would ruin the brothel’s business if the lasses incapacitated their customers.

Why hadn’t the other prostitutes told her? Why hadn’t her mother, for that matter?

Everything would have been different if she’d known this.

Everything.

But then, maybe if she’d tried it, Roy would have struck back, punished her for not cooperating. He would never have simply let her go, that was certain. There was no point looking back, but she would remember Graeme’s lesson in case she ever needed it. She prayed she wouldn’t, and she had no fear of Graeme or Ben, but she had no idea how long she would be here.

Stepping into the stable, she found an empty stall laid with clean straw. She piled the straw into a tall mound so she could pretend it was a man attacking her. Jabbing her dagger forward as Graeme had taught her, she hit the straw hard.

But the straw just gave way, too light and loose to offer much resistance. She wanted more. Well, it would give her a target, anyway. She took a deep breath and practiced the motions a few times, adjusting her grip on the hilt—firmly, but not too tight, as Graeme had shown her—before she jabbed the straw pile again. She put so much force behind it, her momentum pulled her off balance and she fell into the straw.

“Ye are getting good with that knife,” Jockie said, coming into the stall. “Who do ye wish to get first with it? I think ye have someone in mind.”

She stood, brushing the scraps of straw from her gown. “I wish I could wear trews like ye do, Jockie.”

“I have a pair ye can wear. They are a wee bit big for me. They’ll probably fit ye perfect. Ye can wear them when we ride out on the morrow. Trews are better for riding than skirts.” He took off and returned quickly, a pair of dark wool trews in his hands.

“These are fine, many thanks to ye.”

“Aye, Jeanie made them for me, big because she says I grow too fast. So who are ye hoping to stab first?” He looked at her, and Cait decided Jeanie had been right. He’d be looking her in the eye in a few moons.

“Roy. The others I would only hurt if they came for me again. Do ye do archery, Jockie?”

“Aye, I can teach ye the basics. ’Tis much harder than wielding a knife. Is Ben no’ going to train ye?”

“Aye, he said later, but I want to know something, at least, before we go looking for the MacCure stables tomorrow.”

“I can show ye a wee bit, if ye like. My bow will probably suit ye fine.

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