![]() ![]() There was nothing quite like throwing a punch or two when he was feeling at sixes and sevens, and he was certainly feeling that way this morning. “I could use a good brawl just now,” he said, rubbing his eyes. His soldiers were widely regarded as some of the fiercest men in all of Britain. He had learned to fight at his father’s knee and now taught young men from his clan. ![]() “We’ve men training for unarmed conflict this morn,” Jock said, settling into a chair across from him.Īrran perked up at that. “I expected you to be abed this morning.”Īrran smiled. “And how does the morning find you, laird?” he asked with much jocularity. He arched a thick, dark brow above a smug smile. Unlike Fergus, Jock looked as fresh as a spring daffodil. Jock joined him a quarter of an hour later. He’d been hard at work of late, preparing for a voyage that would take him to France to trade wool for cloth and wine, which he would then ferry to Ireland to sell or trade for leather goods.įergus appeared at the door of his study, looking bleary-eyed, his thinning hair in complete disarray. He sat himself at a desk stacked with papers and books, shipping ledgers and the household accounts. He liked that it adjoined his dressing room. It was a small room, the original purpose lost. The lad picked up his cloak and stumbled clumsily down the hall.Īrran walked down the hall to his study. ![]()
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