The Taming (Peregrine 1)

k, for she knew Rogan would never resist the challenge. The two of them had politely ignored the last scene of the play, when the Fire Lady had collared Lord Buzzard, but she knew Rogan was aware of it. He wouldn’t allow himself to be insulted twice in one day.

Rogan released her hand and stepped into the circle. Liana knew she could do or say nothing without putting both their lives in jeopardy. Her breath held, she watched the two men walk together into the ring, facing each other. They were so much alike: same hair, same eyes, same square, determined jaw.

Rogan looked down at the pole on the ground, then to Liana’s horror, he removed his concealing hood, then pulled his shirt off over his head. There was a moment’s pleasure as he tossed his garments to her and she caught them, but then Liana’s fear returned. Surely someone would recognize him now. She didn’t like to think who would recognize him, since it could be one or all of the women he’d bedded. “Half the village,” she muttered to herself.

She scanned the crowd and saw two of the Days standing on the opposite side of the circle. Now their faces showed puzzlement, but Liana had no doubt that soon the women would realize who Rogan was.

Swiftly, she began to make her way toward the women.

“You say one word and you will regret it,” she said when she reached the women. One of the Days cowered, her face showing her fear, but the other woman was bolder and smarter. She saw the danger Liana and Rogan were in.

“I want my son to be raised as a knight,” the woman said.

Liana opened her mouth to refuse this outrageous and bold request, but she closed it. “You will see that no one else knows,” she countered.

The woman looked Liana in the eyes. “I will tell people he comes from a village to the south and that I have met him before. My son?”

Liana couldn’t help admiring this woman who risked so much for her child. “Your sons will be educated and trained. Send them to me tomorrow.” She moved away from the women and made her way back to where she had been.

Rogan and his half-brother were circling each other, long poles held horizontally in their hands. They were imposing men, both young and strong, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, muscles well defined.

But it didn’t take half a brain to see who was the better fighter. Rogan was obviously testing his half-brother, toying with him to see what he could do, while the half-brother, anger in his eyes, was fighting with all his might. The brother attacked and Rogan easily sidestepped, then quickly brought his pole to the back of his brother’s knees.

“Are you used to fighting only women?” Rogan taunted.

Anger was getting the best of his brother, causing him to make stupid mistakes.

“No one has ever beaten Baudoin before,” the toothless old man next to Liana said. “He’ll not like being bested.”

“Baudoin,” Liana said aloud, frowning. She didn’t think it was a good idea for Rogan to make an enemy of this brother as he was doing. Rogan had spent most of his life training with sticks and swords, while this young man no doubt spent most of his time behind a plow.

After a while, it was obvious to everyone watching that Rogan was growing tired of this game that gave no challenge. He stood in front of his brother, put his pole in one hand, standing it on end and…stretched.

It was an insulting move, and Liana’s sympathies went to Baudoin at being so humiliated.

Baudoin’s eyes turned dark with rage, and he lunged at Rogan, murder in his face. The crowd gasped.

Barely looking at his brother, Rogan sidestepped and brought his stick crashing down on the back of Baudoin’s head. The young man went sprawling, face down, unconscious, in the mud and grass.

Without a look of concern for his brother, Rogan stepped over his inert body and walked toward Liana, took his clothes from her, and slipped them over his head. He pushed his way through the crowd, his shoulders and head back, not looking at Liana but obviously expecting her to follow him. He ignored the peasants about him, who clapped him on the shoulder in congratulations and asked him to have a drink with them.

Rogan was feeling very proud of himself. He’d bested the man who’d made his wife look at him with desire. He’d shown her who was the best man. And he was proud of how he’d done it. There would be no doubt in her mind as to who was the better man. He could have beat that overconfident half-brother with one hand tied behind his back.

Very aware that Liana was following him, he led her toward the woods. When she showed how pleased she was with him, he wanted to be alone with her. Once, after he’d won a tournament, two young ladies had come to his tent to congratulate him. That had been a night to remember!

But now all he wanted was his wife’s praise. Perhaps she’d kiss him the way she had when he’d said he’d go to the fair with her. He didn’t stop walking until he was deep in the woods, then he turned and looked at her.

She didn’t throw her arms about his neck, nor did she give him one of her smiles that he’d come to know: a smile that was beginning to make him think of pleasure and softness and laughter.

“I won,” he said, his eyes alive.

“Yes, you won,” she said flatly.

He didn’t understand her tone. It was almost as if she were angry with him. “I beat the man rather easily.”

“Oh yes, it was very easy for you. Easy to humiliate him, to make the people laugh at him.”

Rogan didn’t understand her and he didn’t try. She had gone too far this time. He drew back his hand to strike her.