Free Warrior Reborn by Melissa Mayhue

pointed out, pushing past the guards and into the entryway where Ulfr stood beside Christiana, his hand gripping her elbow. And not in a good way, from where Chase stood. “Are we interrupting something?”
    “Yes,” Ulfr barked, drowning out Christiana’s quiet denial. “What do you want?”
    “We’re here to see a—” Chase began, feeling quite pleased that he could use the catchphrase twice, when Halldor interrupted.
    “We’ve a problem that could prevent our being able to remain in service to the MacDowylt.”
    As Halldor spoke, the door next to Ulfr opened and Torquil stepped into the hallway.
    “There’s a problem?” he asked.
    “No, my lord,” Ulfr hurried to answer.
    “Begging your pardon, Laird MacDowylt, but I’m afraid there is.” Halldor stood his ground, ignoring Ulfr’s angry glare.
    Torquil studied each of them in turn, then stepped back inside the room. “I’d have you join me in my solar so that we might get to the bottom of this. All of you.”
    “My lady?” Halldor offered his arm to Christiana, nudging Ulfr aside as she accepted.
    Chase swept his hand in invitation for the captain of the guard to enter ahead of him.
    No way he wanted that man at his back.
    Inside, his eyes immediately sought out Christiana, as he found himself doing each time he was in a room with her. She stood apart from the others, her hands clasped at her waist. Perhaps it was only the swords and scabbards hanging on the high stone walls that made her appear so small and out of place, but he found himself fighting the urge to go to her side and reassure her. She looked every bit as uncomfortable as he felt in here.
    From the moment he’d entered, it was as if the walls were closing in. Not that the room was small by any means. It was more a matter of the feel of the room, as if something in it weakened him and sucked the air from his lungs.
    “Show him that piece of bog trash you carry on your back.”
    Chase’s attention snapped away from the woman, and he found Halldor and Torquil staring at him.
    “Go on. Hand it over to the laird.”
    “It mayhap need a wee touch of a polish by the metalworker,” Ulfr offered, his voice trailing off into the oppressive silence.
    Chase pulled the rusted weapon from the scabbard he wore on his back and stepped closer, dipping his head respectfully as he passed it to Torquil. Once the other man accepted, he stepped away, his own gaze once again sweeping the room, lighting on Christiana only briefly before he forced himself to study the weapons hanging on the walls instead.
    This wasn’t the twenty-first century, where a man could gawk at a woman with impunity. Things weren’t done that way here. Now. No matter how much he was drawn to her.
    “A good weapon was the terms of our agreement,” Halldor reminded. “This does not fulfill those terms, any more than the palfrey they’ve tried to give my brother fulfills our agreement for a suitable mount.”
    Torquil barely glanced at the sword before dropping it to the table next to him.
    “It does little good to spend my silver in hiring talented swordsmen if they’re ill-equipped,” Torquil murmured, his eyes boring into his captain.
    Chase almost felt sorry for the man. Almost felt compelled to speak up in his defense. Almost.
    Then he spotted something hanging on the wall he never thought he’d see again. A sword so likethe one his father had owned it could have been the same weapon. He was drawn to it immediately, crossing the room to run his finger down the blade.
    “Here now, O’Donar!” Ulfr called after him. “Dinna be thinking to handle the artifacts what belong to Clan MacDowylt.”
    “You’ve a good eye.” Torquil had moved to stand beside him. “That is a weapon of distinction. An ancient weapon forged by some long-forgotten MacDowylt ancestor, hung upon this wall for who knows how long.”
    “My apologies if I offended, my laird.” Chase dipped his head once more. “It’s only that this sword