Caelen stood in the middle of the courtyard as the men gathered round, their expressions rife with speculation. He stared them down, his gaze stony and unyielding.

When Gannon gestured to him that the last man had assembled, Caelen drew his sword and leveled the point toward the crowd and turned so they were all included in his gesture.

“ ’Tis time to make a choice. If you are with me and accept me as your laird, you will step forward, make your pledge, and swear your allegiance. If you are nay accepting of me as your laird, then step forward with your challenge. If you are able to best me in battle, I’ll leave McDonald land and never return.”

A series of guffaws and sounds of disbelief spread through the crowd.

“You intend to challenge us all?”

The jeer came from the crowd.

Caelen’s lip curled into a snarl. “I intend to show you that one McCabe warrior is worth a hundred of you.”

“I’ll take that challenge,” Jamie McDonald said as he stepped forward.

He was a cocky lad, still afflicted by a brush of youth. He hadn’t yet proved himself a man, and Caelen shook his head.

“You’re starting easy on me, I see.”

Jamie’s face flushed a dull red, and before Caelen could draw his sword the boy ran at him with a yell. Caelen dodged the clumsy charge, drew his sword, and brought his fist down on the boy’s head as he stumbled past. The lad went sprawling, his sword flying several feet in the other direction.

Caelen shook his head in disgust. “No restraint. My wife wields a sword a hundred times better.”

Jamie picked himself up, his face a tight knot of fury at the insult.

“Hard to fight without a sword,” Gannon drawled. He bent to retrieve the weapon and then tossed it to the side. “Stand aside, lad. You’ve been bested already.”

As the afternoon wore on, the swords piled higher, with Gannon tossing aside one after another. As Caelen dispatched the men, they were directed to sit to the side and watch as the next clansmen took up the charge.

’Twas obvious the more skilled warriors waited until last, when Caelen was tiring. It took him longer than he had liked to dispatch Oren McDonald, and the man actually managed to stagger Caelen before Caelen sent his sword flying toward the discard pile.

When the next McDonald stepped forward, Caelen issued a silent groan. ’Twas Seamus McDonald, and he was a mountain of a man. Heavily muscled with legs and arms like tree trunks, a chest as broad as a boulder, and no neck to speak of.

He wasn’t terribly adept with a sword, but he could smash a man with his bare hands.

Sensing Caelen’s dismay, the McDonalds who were sitting surged to their feet and let out raucous cheers as Seamus and Caelen circled each other.