From Chapter Six of E. Elizabeth Watson’s Twelfth Knight’s Bride “Would it make any difference to ye now to ken that the mare ye ride is light of foot and won me a race in the Inverness games four seasons ago?” he diverted. She glanced at him. “She is quite spry for her age. What does that have to do with clan rivalries?” His semi-smile broadened, and he leaned down to her, lowering his voice as he wrapped his hands around his reins in preparation. “Absolutely nothing. I’m saying my horse could use a good jaunt, and since yer palfrey bears the record she does, how would ye like a wee competition? Up to the wood’s edge where it’s dense of trees and sparse of people?” Her eyes brightened, and a smile of her own danced upon her lips as she looked ahead of them to get bearings on the mark. Just as he suspected. The lass, bold of tongue, was also competitive. “I do believe I’m being challenged to a race by the enemy. More rivalry is what we need, then?”“Only a gentle bird frightened of losing would refuse,” he taunted, sitting upright again and staring down his nose…