Free Love's Call by C. A. Szarek

back, took the breath from his lungs. He heard some gasps and several comments from his men.
    Leargan was never caught off guard in a sparring match, let alone in a real fight. Even Roduch, who he’d been training with, had frozen, then reached a hand down to help him to his feet.
    “Captain?” Roduch’s face was a mask of concern.
    Leargan cursed and grabbed the large blond man’s arm with a bit too much vigor, but Roduch wasn’t caught off balance. His friend pulled him to his feet with little effort.
    He restrained himself from stomping his foot like a spoiled child.
    His mind had been on Ansley.
    Had the fight been real, he would be dead.
    She would be the death of him.
    “It’s all right. Spar with Niall,” Leargan told the big knight, sheathing his sword and brushing himself off. His back and arse ached as much as his pride.
    With a glare to each of the men who’d stopped to gape, he jogged to the edge of the training grounds. His men busied themselves with their previous tasks.
    Smart of them.
    He nodded at his Second, who hopped the wooden fence that surrounded the training grounds. Niall wasted no time rushing Roduch, and Leargan heard the clash of metal on metal before he’d even reached the place Niall had been standing.
    Leaning on the top rung of the fence, he lifted his foot and rested it on the bottom, studying his men.
    At first glance, one would think Roduch would be the winner. The warrior was almost as tall as King Nathal’s six-feet-seven-inches. Just as broad shouldered and muscular.
    Dark-haired Niall on the other hand, wasn’t quite six feet tall but he was equally muscular, yet graceful. Niall was quick on his feet and skilled with his weapon.
    Roduch was also very good with a sword. All his men were, or they wouldn’t have been selected to be a part of the Aldern personal guard.
    He watched them for a moment, then allowed his eyes to sweep the rest of the fighting yard. Some of the men were sparring with swords like Niall and Roduch, others with spears, and even a few practiced with bow and arrow.
    Lord Aldern strode over, sheathing his sword before wiping the sweat from his brow. He too, had been sparring with the men. He leaned against the fence next to him, saying nothing as he passed a skin of water.
    Jorrin cleared his throat. “I’m surprised Roduch’s here. He hasn’t left the castle in days.”
    Leargan nodded thanks and took a long drink. “I guilted him a little. Told him he owed it to the lads.” The big knight was in charge of training the younger men-at-arms with the sword, as well as his special lessons with Leargan’s squire, Brodic. “He’s patient with them.”
    “Alasdair doesn’t relish the task in his absence.”
    “Aye,” Leargan said, but didn’t look at his friend.
    “Has she said anything yet?”
    “Not that Roduch shared with me. She’ll talk when she’s ready. She’s taking short visits from the ladies, that’s something.”
    “I agree. Leargan, are you all right?”
    “Aye. Why?” He swung his head around and met the duke’s sapphire eyes.
    Jorrin quirked an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you knocked on your arse before, that’s why,” the duke said, tone half-amused, half-concerned.
    Leargan fought the urge to squirm. “I wasn’t aware watching me was a part of training.”
    “Just marry her, Leargan,” Jorrin said. “It’s been a sevenday. King Nathal said no more than three…and he’ll be here withAnsley’s father.”
    “I remember what the scroll says.” He scowled.
    The duke crossed his arms over his broad chest, gaze appraising. “You’re not known as a cruel man.”
    Leargan cocked his head to the side, holding his breath.
    “Yet, you’ve been stalking about the castle for the better part of this sevenday, barking orders and making maids cry. Even Brodic has been staying out of your way.”
    The better part of this sevenday .
    After he’d kissed Ansley in the corridor. Behaved like a lustful beast.
    He looked into