Hannah immediately swooped Eleanor up and, with a friendly arm around her shoulder, guided her into the castle. Brice tossed the reins to a waiting groom and said to Lachlan, “Meet me in the lists,” before striding off. He was so filled with fury that he couldn’t speak. He’d never been this angry, and he knew the only way to burn some of it off was to hit someone, hard, with something sharp. Lachlan was the poor fool who happened to be there at the wrong time. But the exercise didn’t work. Both he and Lachlan were drenched in sweat, their arms hurting. Brice’s shoulder ached like the devil, and he was fairly certain that the wound was bleeding, but he cared not. He bent over, placed his hands on his knees, and breathed deep. “Can I ask what that was all about?” Lachlan said between breaths. “No’ that I mind the extra practice.” Brice straightened and walked to the fence where he’d tossed his shirt. He wiped his face and looked toward the sea that battered the back of the castle.
