Watty's 2018 short list, #2 highest rank for Historical, 1st Place in the Profound Awards.
Lord Grey has sailed the seas, fought pirates, and built a shipping fleet before turning thirty. Now he must marry and produce an heir. He believes his days...
The sound of wooden swords knocking together in mortal combat reverberated in the ballroom. Gabby swung at her young brother, barely deflecting the strike at the last moment, and heatedly yelled, "Quit trying to watch what Philip is doing, Derrick! I almost took your head off."
She stepped back with her dark eyes glaring at him. "If this were a real fight, you would be dead right now. Let's try it again. Philip, aim for my body, not my sword. You can play with Derrick later. This is a lesson, now pay attention! You are pirates and you have just boarded my ship. To take it, you either kill me or make me your prisoner. In order to do that, you must disarm me."
"But you are good at this, thus 'tis unfair!" Philip, age ten, swiped the tip of his wooden sword across the marble floor and shoved his pirate hat back from his forehead. "I believe you should be a pirate now and give Derrick a turn to be the sea captain."
"The point of this exercise is for you to try and work together to disarm me, Philip. Do that and we will trade places."
As the eldest sibling and only female, she had learned long ago how to gain cooperation from her brothers and maintain their interest. The male species had little endurance for boredom. They seemed to thrive on competition, excitement, and challenges... in all aspects of life.
To train her brothers in the technique of sword fighting, they dressed the part. Form, technique, and mental concentration came best if done with an example. In this case, they dressed like pirates—her brothers' favorite characters.
Because Derrick, now thirteen, had outgrown his short pants that buttoned below the knee, Gabby wore them. The shirt had been confiscated from her father's wardrobe. She had rolled up the sleeves and belted the waist with a black sash found in the mending basket. The white stockings, covering her calves, came from her own wardrobe. The shoes failed miserably to complete the outfit. Instead of boots, they were pink ballroom slippers that matched a dress she absolutely loathed. Though to her delight, the shoes had succeeded in causing a moment of hilarity for her brothers, and they offered to get father's inkwell to dye them.
She positioned her feet apart for balance with the front knee bent. Her brothers huddled together planning their strategy. Once they broke apart, they began to creep around her sneering and growling—more like bears than angry men. The effort to keep a straight face at their antics was most difficult to accomplish. As to strategy, the trick would be to keep them in sight and prevent an attack from behind.
In preparation for their attack, she lifted the sword and held a dagger ready in the other hand. Both weapons were carved from hardwood received as a Christmas present from her father, with the sole purpose of training her brothers, since they too received swords. The wood was reinforced with a steel center. Otherwise, they would have broken within a week's time. Up until receiving the gifts, they had used sticks.
Philip took her advice to heart. Once he was at her side and Derrick on the other, Phillip charged trying to slice her to pieces. She blocked each swing, and then Derrick laughed wickedly before he attacked. While parrying with Philip, she blocked each swing Derrick threw at her with the long dagger. She danced back to gain position and avoid their brutal attempts at bringing her down. For them, the attack was fun and excellent practice for her.
She continued the battle, found an opening thrusting forward, and brought Philip down. Derrick quickly moved against her swinging his sword while a wicked snarl raised his upper lip. By the time the battle was over, both of them lay upon the floor pretending to be dead. She thwarted their pretense by tickling them while promising to hang them from the yardarm.
Derrick tried to fight her off and spotted the family butler standing at the door waiting for someone to notice him. With laughter, Derrick shouted, "Finley is here."
She turned her head and stood up, approaching him to see what he required.
"Your parents are in the study and have requested your presence."
She looked down at her clothing. "Do I have time to change?"
"They are pacing, Mistress."
Her shoulders fell. She knew how her mother would react seeing her brother's pants on her person. "Thank you, Finley." She collected her swords and hung them on the wall. "Philip, Derrick put your swords away and climb the mast to secure the rigging. You are now part of my crew. Later, we shall go riding."
Two thick ropes with strategic knots hung from the ceiling. Both boys scurried to them to see who could ring the bell at the top first.
She joined Finley, who smiled watching the boys. Together they left and walked towards the staircase. "Do you happen to know what this is about? I have a feeling I will be far from pleased. Mother is usually content to leave us at our play. Has she arranged something for me once again?"
"Your father will protect you, Miss," he said quite seriously as they descended the stairs.
Her dark brown eyes shot up towards the ceiling. "Perhaps. It mostly depends on what Mother has planned this time."
At the base of the staircase, she turned and strode down the hall; her slippered feet silently moving across the wooden floor. The sound of her mother's tone, as she approached her father's office, did not bid a favorable report. She rapped upon the seal of the opened door. "You wished to speak with me?"
Her father, John Shelton Barrington, Barron of Staffordshire, stood stiffly by his desk with his hands clasped behind his back. The frown drawing his brows together was directed at Gabby's mother, Lynette. At the sound of Gabby's voice, his gaze landed upon her and a smile replaced his displeasure. "Come in, my dear. My, don't you look enchanting. Were you a captain today?"
He held his arm out requesting she come to him for a hug. She stepped to his tall, slender frame and kissed his cheek. Steeling herself, she then turned her attention to study her mother's stern expression.
"Your mother is trying to convince me you need to be brought out into society," he said with a tender regard.
Gabby's lips tightened as did her eyes. "You mean I should be auctioned off to the highest bidder?"
"Gabriella! How dare you speak..."
"ENOUGH!" His eyes drilled a warning directly at his wife. "Lynette, you knew Gabby would not be receptive about having a season. She requested another year in which to train her brothers in sword fighting as well as trick riding. This I permitted. So save your spite and your tears."
Gabby looked from her father's frustration to her mother's determination and felt guilty for causing a rift, but not enough to be pressured into finding a husband and leaving home. She wasn't ready to train a husband; much less listen to silly demands she would only follow if she felt it was reasonable.
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