I sent her a look out of the corner of my eye. In the past, Ann had been quite frank in telling me she was not a fan of Doug and that he “didn’t deserve” me. I took a few steps in silence before I answered. “Sure.”

I didn’t meet her gaze, afraid she might figure things out. I hadn’t yet shared with either of them my waning interest in Doug.

“It’s too bad,” she said in her mellifluous Somali accent that I so enjoyed listening to. “About Sir William. He’s a kind man.”

“He is…” I shrugged. “But every battle needs a winner and a loser.” I frowned. That had sounded a lot better in my head than it did out loud. William was no loser.

Caitlyn fell into step beside us again, calming her usual boisterous tendencies in order to catch up on our conversation.

Ann stole another glance at me and sucked in her cheeks, emphasizing her already exquisite bone structure. “He has a thing for you.”

“Doug? Of course he does,” Caitlyn said.

My eyebrows shot up, and though I knew Ann had meant William, I stayed silent, hoping Caitlyn would steer the conversation in a different direction. She didn’t get the chance.

“I meant William,” Ann explained to her. “I catch him looking at Jenna all the time.”

“Sir Hottie MacFine has the hots for Jenna?” Caitlyn said, far louder than I would have liked.

I shushed her. “He does not. We argue all the time. The guy is constantly contradicting everything I say.”

Ann shrugged. “Sexual tension. It’s not that far beyond reason, honey. He did challenge Doug to the duel, remember.”

I shook my head. “That was a male dick-measuring contest, nothing more.”

Caitlyn erupted into loud peals of laughter. “So it was a physical manifestation of an argument about who has the longest—uh—sword?”

I nodded, grinning. “Exactly. A man thing. They think very highly of their swords.”

“What is with that, anyway?” Ann asked. As usual, I found her naiveté endearing. She and I had bonded over similar backgrounds; we’re both immigrants to the US. In fact, we met while working together at the International Refugee Support Center.

“Who knows? We aren’t men. We just keep them around to pleasure us,” I said.

If a blush could be detected under Ann’s smooth, dark skin, then I surmised she would be blushing right now.

Caitlyn leaned in and tapped her arm. “When Rodrigo finally gets his head out of his ass and asks you out, you’ll see.”

Ann’s hand shot to her mouth. “Caitlyn! Don’t say such things!”

I continued what Caitlyn had started, relieved that the heat was off me. “He lurves you, Ann. He’s just too shy.”

“He loves me in the same way that William loves you?” Ann shot back. Damn. So much for that plan. Now my face was burning, the image of a perfect, tall man—a literal knight in shining armor—floating before my eyes.

“She has Doug. She doesn’t need another man. Save some of them for us homely girls.” Caitlyn gestured to herself with a laugh.

“You’re doing it again. Stop it,” I lightly reprimanded, referring to her tendency to indulge in self-deprecation.

But Ann could not be deterred. “I know you don’t like Doug. Not really.”

“Is that your all-powerful African intuition talking?” Caitlyn teased.

“It’s called perception,” Ann countered. “You should try it some time.”

Caitlin shrugged and deferred to me. “What does your intuition say?”

“I never trust my intuition. I’ll stick to my Tarot cards,” I said.

Ann turned to me. “Why haven’t you broken up with Doug? He doesn’t deserve you.”

My right brow shot up in a perfect imitation of Mr. Spock, but I refrained from pointing out that her intuition—all powerful or not—seemed to be right on the mark this time.

Caitlyn nudged her. “Don’t. Not everyone dislikes Doug.”

Ann shrugged. “I’m sorry. I just hate that he won. He’s going to be more obnoxious than he normally is.”

My mouth quirked. “I can guarantee that Doug isn’t going to crow too loudly about this particular victory. He won on a technicality, after all.”

Ann appeared to think about that for a moment. “William seemed uneasy out there.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like crowds?” Caitlyn said.

Ann nodded. “He is very reserved. Maybe that was it. He got distracted.”

I frowned, reflecting on that. It was more than mere distraction, though. William had Asperger’s Syndrome, which meant he was on the autistic spectrum. It made sense that crowds would bother him—from what little I knew of the condition, anyway.

Ann looked at me with a knowing grin. “I think he challenged Doug to the duel because he has feelings for you. And don’t roll your eyes at me!”

“You think everyone has feelings for me,” I told her. “I think it’s hormones and my trusty push-up corset.” I gestured to my noticeable rack that only appeared while in period garb. Maybe that was why I loved dressing the part so much. “I wasn’t even there the day that William issued the challenge.”

“Yes, but—”

But I rode over her. “I think that William got sick of listening to Doug constantly brag about being the best fighter in our clan. He just decided to school him.”

Caitlyn called across the compound to a friend. Then she turned back to us. “So do you wish he’d won?”

I shrugged. William not winning was going to make my impending breakup with Doug easier—or at least I hoped it would.

When we reached Doug’s tent, I told them I was going to get my stuff together. They dispersed, saying they’d see me at the planning meeting after lunch.

I slipped inside and pulled off my medieval garb—my laced outer corset, frilly blouse and two layers of brightly colored skirts. I was ready to transform back into a woman of the twenty-first century, and I was doing it fast, before the tent’s other occupant arrived.

In fact, I’d just pulled on my jeans and buttoned them up when Doug entered the tent. He’d already removed his armor and the padding that went underneath it. Like most of the group’s warriors, he wore period-authentic under-armor garments. And under all of the items he had been wearing, he appeared small, sweaty…sapped.