Free Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) by Julia Brannan

to help her mother to bring up her six brothers and sisters on the edge of starvation. She told me that the clanswomen had to learn to fight, because they never knew when they would have to. If the men were away fighting another clan, it was up to the women to hunt for food, and to defend themselves if necessary against any other clans that sought to take advantage of the fact that their menfolk were away to raid the village. She had a very hard life, John, and if it hadn’t been for her skills with a knife, she’d not have survived to move down to England and meet my father. Some of the stories she told me would make your blood curdle.”
    John waited for a moment, hoping that Beth would regale him with one of these blood-curdling tales, but after a short silence she shook her head, as though to drive away some unpleasant thought.
    “Anyway,” she continued. “She was of the opinion that every woman should be able to defend herself against attack, especially as women are not as strong as men. It would be nice to think that most men are too courteous to hurt a member of the weaker sex, but it’s not true, unfortunately. She held the view that you never knew when your circumstances might change. Even the most privileged might be brought down by a stroke of fate, and it was as well to know how to survive, just in case. So she taught me how to throw knives, and how to kill too, if necessary. And I’m very glad she did, although I hope I’ll never have to do it.”
    “You must miss her a lot,” John said.
    Beth looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears.
    “I think of her, and of Father every day,” she said, smiling sadly. Then she swiped at her eyes impatiently with her hand and jumped down off the barrel, handing the knife back to John. “But if we carry on talking, Richard will be home before you’ve had a chance to throw the knife at all. Come on, let’s get on. Remember what I told you, and try again.”
    He moved into position, and took aim carefully. This time the knife hit the door, although it didn’t penetrate the wood.
    “That was better. Your wrist was straight. But you’re twisting your body. You must stand square on to the target. The only part of your body that moves is your arm.”
    She came up behind him as he aimed the knife for another throw and gripped his shoulders, intending to hold him in position as he threw. To her surprise he cried out in pain and leapt away from her, the knife landing on the floor at his feet.
    “What on earth’s the matter, John?” Beth asked. His face had drained of all colour, and as she made to move towards him, he put his hand up to ward her off.
    “It’s nothing,” he said. “I fell and bruised myself, that’s all. I’ll be fine in a day or so.”
    He was not a good liar. Beth did not try to approach him further, but her face was determined.
    “You’re lying, John, and you never lie to me. What’s really happened?”
    “Please, Beth, it’s none of your concern.” The colour was returning to his face now, but he still looked sick. A nasty suspicion crossed her mind.
    “It’s Richard, isn’t it? What has he done to you?” she asked.
    “Nothing!” he retorted, too quickly.
    She stooped, and picked the knife up off the floor, sliding it into its sheath and putting it in her pocket.
    “Very well,” she said. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll ask Richard myself as soon as he comes home. If he has hurt you, it is my concern, John, whatever you may think.” She made to turn away, but John’s anguished cry stopped her.
    “Don’t, please, you’ll only make things worse,” he pleaded.
    “Take off your shirt,” she replied. “I want to see what’s wrong.”
    He shrank away from her, moving backward into the barn, and her heart contracted. They had been friends since they were children, had argued and fought like brother and sister. Never in his life had he shrank from her. And never in her life had she used her superior status against