She did not want to speak about Griffin. Not until her anger lessened. She feared she would say something she might later regret. Instead, she filled the tankard with ale, then drank. When she had finished, she refilled the cup and handed it to him.
"I wonder which is worse," she asked, breaking the silence between them, "having family that acts without honor, or having no family at all?" The topic seemed safe enough.
She felt him relax as he returned the tankard, obviously finding relief in her avoidance. "The worst day with a family is better than the best day without."
Scotia poured herself another cup as she pondered his words. She had to agree, but thought his statement odd coming from a man who had grown up in the thick of his clan. "What would you know of such things?"
"I have been with family longer than I have been without. Even so, the memories of being alone still remain."
Scotia nodded more to herself than to him. She knew the feeling of loneliness well. Even in a castle surrounded by people, she often felt an emptiness that, when stirred, bordered on panic. She risked a glance sideways. He looked not at her, but at the night sky.
"I am sorry about my brother." The statement implied so much more than he said.
She returned her gaze to the stars above. "You do not control his actions."
"Regardless, he had no right to challenge you in that way."
She shrugged into the darkness. "I am used to challenges, Ian. Your brother has much to learn before he would become a threat to me."
"Then you really mean to train him?"
"If that is what he chooses, aye. It is my obligation."
"Is the security of your castle your obligation as well?" Ian asked.
"Aye." Everything within the castle fell under her care. It was a huge burden, but she would not tell him that.
"Then there is a breech somewhere for Griffin to enter unnoticed." There was no censure in his voice, only honesty.
"He did not enter without my notice," she admitted. "There is only one other way inside these walls besides the front gate. How he knew to enter there I do not yet know."
Ian shifted beside her. "I shall look into the situation with Griffin if you agree that I might."
She felt Ian's gaze upon her and resisted the impulse to look at him, even though she longed to see what she might be able to read there. Did he think she had failed in her duty to the people of her household? Or was he earnest in his desire to help her?
Help her. What an unusual notion. And yet, she could not deny her relief at the idea.
"By your silence I take it you do not approve," he said.
"Nay," she replied. "I would welcome your help in this one area."
"Agreed." She could almost hear the smile in that single word.
They sat in silence, sharing ale as two companions might after a day of battle. Even though they were not comrades in arms and the battle in the garden had been against his own kin, Ian's presence was welcome—even comforting if she were honest. How little time she'd had in her life for friendship.
Scotia startled at the thought. Was that what she felt when he was near? Feelings shared between friends? She turned toward him in an effort to read his emotions, but his face was wrapped in a veil of moonlight and shadow. His presence at Glencarron Castle had changed so many things. She had been on the verge of giving up when he had arrived. Now, she could honestly say she felt renewed. Scotia bit down on her lip. It was the closest thing to happiness she had experienced in a long while, despite the night's events.
He shifted beside her, and for a moment she tensed, fearing he would leave. Not wanting him to slip away into the darkness, she tried to think of something to say, anything to keep him by her side until the ale settled her nerves and she could face what remained of the night.
When no words came to her, she turned her gaze to the sky. A thousand stars glittered in the cloudless expanse, stretching across Scotland like a banner of serenity. If only that falsehood were so. Scotia leaned back and let her head rest on the stair behind her. To her surprise, Ian did the same.
"What are you looking at?" His voice was calm, soothing.
She relaxed against the wood riser. "I was wondering which star to wish upon this night."
He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Forgive me, but you do not seem the type to wish upon a star. Or the kind of female who engages in wishes or fantasy."
She bristled at his words. "Do you find me so rigid that you think there is no room in my heart for wishes?"
He turned toward her. Only fragments of his features were clear to her in the silver moonlight. "I meant no offense. I thought you would never allow yourself to become distracted by fanciful things."
"I am not distracted," she retorted despite the fact his words were partial truth. The stars paled in comparison to her preoccupation with him. Never in her life had she experienced such difficulty remaining disciplined and focused as she did when he drew near. She returned her attention to the stars. "Do you want to quibble or choose a star?"
"Hmm," he mused. She could hear a touch of amusement in his voice. "Sparring with you does hold an appeal, there is no denying that. But until I master your fighting techniques, it would be safer to play with the stars."
"You will never best me." She kept her voice light despite the sudden heaviness that settled in her chest.
"An intriguing challenge. There is no doubt about that."
She let silence fall between them. No one had ever bested her. No one ever could unless she allowed it. As Trainer, she controlled how much she taught him, and how much she held back. If she taught him everything, would he one day use it against her? She had never considered that possibility before. There was always a chance that the student's abilities would surpass the master's.
She and Ian had weeks of practice ahead of them before he reached that level of proficiency. In an effort to hide the tension that suddenly gripped her at the thought of Ian besting her, Scotia smoothed her fingers across the tops of her leather-clad thighs. Her mother had never prepared her for that eventuality.
She forced her hands to still. Now was not the time to worry about such things. When Ian's abilities neared her own, she would consider what to do. Until then, she did not need to borrow trouble. But perhaps, just to make certain, one wish on a star would not hurt. Scanning the heavens, she found a star far off from the rest, bright and steady, that appealed to her. She closed her eyes, and—
"What did you wish for?" he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"I cannot tell you that." She did not bother to disguise her annoyance at the interruption. After all, she had been about to send out a perfectly good wish for strength. Continuing to study the sky, she asked, "Which star did you choose?"
"The one over there, off to the left." His voice grew soft, and if she was not mistaken carried a touch of sorrow in its depth.
He pointed to her star. Scotia frowned. "Why did you pick that one?" she asked, curious as to why he had picked the same star as she in a sky filled with so many other more worthy choices.
"It reminded me of my position in my clan. Alone, yet surrounded by many."
Her frown deepened. "It is how I always feel—alone, yet surrounded by all of Scotland. But how is it the same for you? How can you be alone within the bosom of your clan?"
"It is easy when you are not truly one of them. I am a MacKinnon in name only." His voice was flat, devoid of all feeling as he spoke, sparking the compassion she tried to hold in check.
"And yet you came here to learn, to help protect your clan."
"I am to lead them after my foster father is gone."
"He must care for you greatly and trust you to ask such a thing."
"He does. It is Griffin and the rest of the clan who question my leadership."
Scotia frowned. "Will the others follow you when the time comes?"
"Aye. All except Griffin, who will challenge me always." Ian groaned. "I think I finally understand why my foster f
ather sent me here to you—to gain the skills necessary to keep the others, especially Griffin, in line."
Their fingers rested on the wooden plank, mere inches apart. An overwhelming urge to reach out to him, to place her fingers atop his swamped her, but she forced herself to remain still.
Instead, she studied the way Ian reclined against the stairs, his pose casual, yet ready to spring forward should there be a need. A true warrior.
Scotia wished for a glimmer of moonlight to reveal his face. No one had ever confided so much of himself to her before. She could not help but wonder why he did so now. Did he feel the same companionship she felt this eve? If she could just look into his eyes, she would know his feelings, but the darkness made that impossible. "Why did your foster father choose you to lead your clan over Griffin?"
He gave a short laugh that held no humor. "Because I am a better warrior. In these uncertain times, the protection of my clan is vital." He turned his face toward her, though it still remained shadowed. "It is not only the Four Horsemen who stir trouble in our land. Their fellow Englishmen threaten our freedom with their efforts to constrain Robert the Bruce and those who support him."
"My men are out there now, fighting for those very causes. I only regret that our people do not come to me to train. I could help them if they would...."
"By training me, you are helping your people, Scotia."
"I had not considered that." How did he always manage to take her by surprise? In battle she was prepared for any eventuality. But in this new game with Ian, she never knew what to expect. His sympathy, his humility, his humanity could strike her to her knees before she knew what hit her.
Like now, she could only watch, hardly daring to breathe, as he captured one of the tendrils of her hair that had escaped her tight plait during her battle with Griffin. He twined it about his finger. "Scotland might have forgotten how lucky she is to have you, but I have not." His voice deepened to a husky whisper.
Before she could react, he leaned down and placed his lips against hers. His kiss was swift, even chaste, but it set off a wistful yearning deep inside her. When he drew back she was tempted to grab his shirt and pull him close again. But she could not lose herself to her desire, no matter how desperately she might want to. Instead she curled her hands at her sides.
Twice tonight he had caught her off guard. A dangerous state that could get her killed.
Scotia jumped to her feet. "I had best return to my chamber."
"What about Griffin?"
"He would not dare to challenge me again this night."
Ian stood beside her. "He will not, I shall make certain of that. I intend to stand guard over him all night if I must."
A warm glow moved through her at his words. She did not need his protection, but the sentiment was comforting all the same. "Until the morrow then."
She picked up the now empty jug of ale and the tankard they had shared, then headed back into the castle. With each step her resolve to end their intimacy faltered. Only reason and logic kept her moving forward. She dared not look behind her. She could not bear the thought of seeing him standing in the doorway, looking as forlorn and confused as she now felt.
It was best to hurry away and not think about anything at all.
The next morning, Scotia entered the inner courtyard of the castle and watched Griffin fill a flask with water from the well. His expression was solemn as he concentrated on his task. In the light of day, he appeared much younger and far more vulnerable than he had seemed the previous night. Where Ian's features reflected a toughness brought on no doubt by years of living as an outsider in his clan, Griffin's face held the first flush of youth and inexperience. Perhaps that accounted for his erratic and sometimes childish behavior. He still had not discovered the man inside himself.
He finished at the well, then secured the bladder to the saddle of his horse. "You decided to leave she asked as he moved to mount the animal.
He swung around. For a moment a glimmer of surprise crossed his face before he schooled his features into the petulant look he bore. "I did not think I was welcome to remain."
"That depends." Scotia stopped a sword's length from him.
"Upon what, may I ask?" His hand moved to cover the hilt of his sword.
"Your reasons for coming here." Her gaze remained steadily on his face, yet she was aware of the tension of his fingers on his weapon, of the way he widened his stance to support a strike with his sword. "You should not be so hasty to draw that weapon, or I shall cut off your fingers before you free it of its scabbard."
He grasped his weapon, testing her.
Scotia drew her sword. The weapon sliced through the air and halted a hairsbreadth above his exposed knuckles.
His eyes widened, filled with disbelief, as he jerked his hand away. He winced at the sliver of a cut across three of his fingers. Tiny droplets of blood trickled toward his fingertips. "Must you always wound me?"
"Must you always challenge me?" Scotia sheathed her sword.
His disillusioned gaze swept over her. "Because you're a—"
"Woman?" Scotia finished for him.
"Aye." He leaned back against his horse, his bravado spent. "It is unnatural for a female to fight as you do."
She had to agree. What she did was unusual for most women, but her mother had trained her to be more than her sex usually allowed. "That may be so, Griffin, but this is what I am." She resisted the urge to tug down the edge of her brigandine under his scrutiny. She would not apologize for what she was. "You may use it to your benefit to help strengthen your clan, or you may turn away from me and remain as you are."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
Scotia watched his eyes. She could always tell how a person would react by watching their gaze. "You claim you want to lead your people."
"Aye." He pushed away from his horse. His gaze sharpened, but with interest, not ill intent. "I want what should be mine."
"No man, or no woman, can live another's fate. But you can prepare for your fate by sacrificing your hostility toward Ian for the good of your people."
His eyes darkened and she tensed, waiting for him to react. "What do you mean?"
"Train with me. Let go of the anger you feel for your brother."
"Ian's not my brother, not by blood."
"We are all brothers and sisters, Griffin." Memories of her conversation last night with Ian sprang to mind. He had admitted to being an outsider even among his own people. "We are all Scots, regardless of rank or bloodlines."
Griffin narrowed his gaze on her as though assessing her words for the truth. "You would train me after my behavior last eve?"
"As Warrior Trainer, it is my duty to do so." Scotia stepped back and waved a hand toward the arched doorway leading back into the heart of the keep. "Will you join me?"
He nodded. "I accept."
Scotia called to the young boy cleaning out the stables, "Jacob, please see to this horse." The stable boy bobbed his head, then led the horse toward the timber and straw shelter.
"We will break our fast, then train. You, me, and Ian." As she spoke, an idea formed in her mind. She would train them both, that much she knew. But perhaps during her training she could also try to find some common ground between the two brothers, reconcile the differences that separated them and kept Ian from feeling he belonged. With a renewed sense of purpose, she hurried into the keep.
With her back turned, Scotia did not see the smile of satisfaction that crossed Griffin's face as he followed her dutifully back into the tigress's den. Nor did she see the satisfied gleam that entered his eyes while he rubbed the hilt of his sword.
Chapter Ten
With Griffin by her side, Scotia strode into her hall with as much enthusiasm as reserve. A different type of training would take place here this morning, with two very different sorts of warriors.
Griffin's arrogant stride faltered at the doorway when his gaze lit upon Ian. "I should have known where the lady led you would not be far
away."
Before she could continue into the chamber, Ian's sword flashed as light caught the polished edge. He did not strike Griffin, his action merely a warning. "You decided to stay, Griffin?"
"Aye."
"I cannot like that your presence here leaves the clan vulnerable. But perhaps there is advantage to you training with Scotia, then returning to the clan to train the others."
"And what of you, brother?" Griffin asked, his gaze sharpening.
Scotia waited for Ian's answer with an interest she was incapable of explaining. What did Ian plan to do once he left here? He had alluded to training his clan with the skills she taught him, yet some instinct told her that was not the truth. So what did he mean to do with his knowledge?
Ian broke his gaze from hers. "I say we return to the training." His hand tightened around the leather-wrapped hilt of his sword. His grip was personal, deadly, and dangerous.
"Weapons are not part of our training this morning." Tamping down her irritation, Scotia stalked past Ian to take her usual seat at the head table. She would not be party to a feud between these two. They were here to learn. "May we begin?”
"As you wish." Griffin reluctantly moved to join them at the table.
"Warring is about more than wielding a sword. Strategy is a warrior's most effective weapon." She'd spent hours compiling information from her warriors about the Four Horsemen, interspersing it with the strategies her ancestors had used to defeat their enemies since their arrival in Scotland centuries ago.
Scotia reached for one of the scrolls she had removed from her vault earlier. She untied the leather cord and stretched the scroll across the table.
She watched as both men's faces filled with bewilderment at the sweeping lines, mathematical equations, and notes etched across the parchment. On the page lay details about the military strength and weakness of her army, the surrounding territory's effect on movement, and the detailed strengths and weaknesses of the enemy.
"I have never thought of battles or fighting in this manner." An intensity filled Ian's expression she had never seen before.
He approved. The thought brought an odd jumble of pleasure and warmth to her chest.
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