"I shall."
She looked at him then, her gaze shuttered once more. "If you face the Four Horsemen alone, you might be able to take down one before the others kill you. But there are no guarantees. You could die for nothing."
"I must try—for my family, for Scotland. Whatever happens, I shall accept my fate."
She straightened, tugged down the edge of her armor. "Then go. I release you from your training and your duty."
She stepped past him on her way to the door. Halfway there, she turned back. "May you find whatever it is you seek, Ian. But remember this: The course of our lives is not written in the stars. You make your own destiny, just as I make mine. The choice is ours." She vanished a moment later, leaving him alone.
Her footstep faded until all he could hear was the painful thundering of his heart. His destiny could have no other course.
For him, there was no other choice.
Chapter Fifteen
Two days ago she had released him, and still Ian did not leave. Scotia paced the length of her great hall in long, irritated strides, gathering worried glances from the members of her household who worked near the hearth along the far wall.
Each moment he delayed only tormented her further with memories of feeling safe in his arms, protected in his presence, and an awakening of passion in his kiss.
Scotia scowled as she launched into yet another trek across the rushes strewn about the floor. She needed something to take her mind off him. She needed a distraction. Yet training held no appeal for her this day.
"Wearing a trench in the floor, I see." Scotia turned to find Maisie and Lizbet regarding her with curiosity.
Scotia returned a distracted frown, then knelt before the young girl. "Lizbet. It is good to see you." Scotia glanced up at Maisie. "Is she well enough to question?"
" 'Twas why I brought her to ye." Maisie scooted Lizbet forward with her hands. "Go with Scotia. I'll be at the hearth if ye have need of me."
The girl nodded and Maisie disappeared before Scotia could demand she stay. Scotia hesitated before the child, feeling the old fears and uncertainties creep over her. Liz- bet must have read something in her expression because she held out her hand.
Scotia stood, then felt for the small hand. Confidently, Lizbet placed her hand in Scotia's larger one. "Let us be seated."
Shortening her stride to accommodate the girl's smaller legs, Scotia led Lizbet to the head table. For two days now the child had only had enough strength to eat and sleep. Yet today, a rosy pink brightened her cheeks.
When they reached the table, Scotia lifted the girl up onto the bench, then sat down beside her. "Lizbet, do you know how you got here?"
The little girl shuddered, as if remembering a bit of what she had endured. "I ran from the big man on the white horse. He killed my ma, and that's when I ran into the woods and kept running until I ended up here. I don't know why, but this is where my legs told me to go."
A surge of protectiveness welled up in Scotia. She curled her hands into fists at her side, fighting the urge to reach up and stroke a wisp of the child's blond hair away from her wide, frightened eyes.
Scotia pressed her lips together. If Ian were here, he would not hesitate to comfort the child. But any attempt on her part to provide a similar kindness would probably just frighten the girl more. Scotia knew she was awkward when showing affection to others, had always been so. Why would that change now? Yet, as tears welled up in Lizbet's brown eyes and spilled down her cheeks, Scotia lost the battle with her reserve and reached a hand out toward the girl.
It was all the invitation Lizbet needed. She thrust herself against Scotia's armor-clad chest and nestled into her body as though she were dressed in soft feather down. Her arms hung at her sides, open and useless. But the girl did not seem to mind as she wept silently and snuggled ever closer. Feeling helpless and uncertain herself, Scotia wrapped her arms around the girl in an embrace, such as Maisie had offered when Scotia was a child. She rocked back and forth, not knowing what else to do. The motion seemed to calm Lizbet, because she stopped crying.
A slow warmth curled in Scotia's stomach, and the hollowness that always existed there seemed to vanish. She stared down at the little blond head against her chest. Her heart wrenched at the sight. Lizbet had needed comfort, yet it was Scotia who felt her muscles relax and her mood soften. Who would have thought she, a hardened trainer of warriors, was capable of giving comfort and feeling content in return? Was this what motherhood would feel like?
Images of Ian's lean, muscular body and his dark, soulful eyes filled Scotia's thoughts. Heroic yet kind, forceful yet compassionate, he would make the perfect mate....
Scotia stilled. She had no right to think such thoughts of Ian or any man. It was madness to want things she could never have, things she could never pursue.
Lizbet sniffled, then sat back, staring up at Scotia, her gaze filled with innocence. Scotia patted the child's head, because she had seen Ian do something similar. "Do you want to play for a while with the other children in the castle, or Mistress Maisie and Master Burke?”
"I want to play with you." The girl's small hands moved to the hilt of Scotia's sword. "Can we play with this?"
Scotia twisted in her seat, moving the sword out of reach. "Nay. You must be much older to learn to use a real sword. But I could teach you to fight with a wooden prop."
Lizbet smiled and leapt down from Scotia's lap, seeming to have forgotten her pain. Scotia marveled at the change in her emotions. The child stood before her with her arms stiff against her sides, her chin up, her spine straight. "I want to be brave and strong like you."
Scotia did not know what to say. No one had ever said such a thing to her before. She knelt before the child. "If you still feel that way when you are older, I would be honored to train you with a real weapon, Lizbet."
The child's lip came out in a pout and her eyes pooled with tears. "That will take forever."
"Not as long as you think." Scotia ruffled the young girl's hair, then jerked her hand away, surprised that she could do something so spontaneous.
Lizbet did not seem to mind. In fact, the tears vanished from her eyes.
"Would you like to go out into the lists with me to find a wooden sword?"
With a nod of the little girl's head, doubts assailed Scotia. What had possessed her to offer such a thing? She had never played with a child before, not even when she was a child. She did not have the faintest clue of what to do. Scotia frowned. Swordplay suddenly seemed an inappropriate activity for a young child, but it was all she knew.
Two days had slipped past with agonizing slowness while Ian stalled, trying to reconcile his compassion for Scotia with what he had to do. Another one of Scotia's scouting parties had returned that morning with the news the Four Horsemen had attacked the village of Glenfinnon a second time.
They were turning south. Back toward his village. If he were to help his clan, he had to leave now.
The Four Horsemen. He had to keep his mind on his goal. Destroy the Four Horsemen before they destroyed anyone else he cared about. Thoughts of Scotia assailed him—her strong body pressed intimately against his own, her cheeks flushed, her lips pursed and ready for his kiss, the heady scent of heather coiling around his resolve, drawing him nearer to that place of no return.
He forced his concentration back to the task before him as he wove his way through the castle, methodically searching each room. He had to find her. He had to say good-bye.
Ian hastened his pace through the empty great hall, heading outside. With any luck, by this eve he would meet his destiny head on.
Instead of finding Scotia in the outer bailey, Ian found Griffin. His brother sat with his back against the castle wall, staring mindlessly into the courtyard, twisting a single blade of bright green grass between his fingers. It would not have surprised Ian if the grass turned brown beneath the intensity of his brother's scowl. Clearly something was on his mind.
"Care to share such dark t
houghts?" Ian asked as he settled himself on the ground next to Griffin.
"I am merely out to enjoy the fine scenery," Griffin replied.
Ian gazed toward the castle gate. Nothing grew, nothing stirred, nothing existed but rocks and dirt in this section of the outer bailey. "Cease the pretense. I can tell when something is wrong."
"Why should you care?" Griffin asked.
"I could name several reasons, none of which you would believe. So spare us both." Ian reached out and stopped the blade of grass from spinning. "Talk. Now."
Griffin pulled the grass out of Ian's hand and tossed it to the ground. "Why do you always fit in with others no matter where you go?" He kept his gaze averted.
Ian stilled at the falsehood behind Griffin's words, but at least they were getting closer to the truth. "Fit in? I have been an outcast all my life."
"You were both father and mother's favorite child." Griffin's gaze snapped to Ian's. "You were always so confident in your actions."
"Mother and father tried to make amends for the way the rest of the clan treated me. They loved you and Malcolm just as much. Perhaps our parents were harder on you and Malcolm because they expected more from their true sons." Ian braced himself for the usual hurt that followed the thought that he mattered so little. It did not come this time. Why?
You matter to me. Scotia's words played across his mind. One statement from her had helped heal a lifetime of hurt. A movement to his left drew Ian's gaze. Scotia and Lizbet emerged from the lists. A smile beamed across Lizbet's young face as she poked and slashed the air with a wooden sword.
Scotia cared what happened to him. If he were honest with himself and with her, he would tell her that sentiment was exactly the reason he must now leave her castle and her behind. He did not want her to meet the same end as Malcolm. Not when he could do something to stop it.
Griffin looked at Ian expectantly. "So where do we go from here?"
Ian allowed his gaze to trail Scotia and Lizbet as they walked across the outer bailey to the large iron gate that separated the castle from the rest of the world beyond. "Will you promise me something?"
Griffin frowned. "Depends."
"I leave today. If you remain, will you cease your challenges to Scotia? Protect her instead?"
His brother's gaze sharpened. "I have never been good at keeping promises, not even the promise I made to Father when he told me about the—" Griffin grinned. "There I go again."
Something to do with Scotia, no doubt, judging by the look of satisfaction that shone in Griffin's eyes. "About what?"
Griffin's gaze suddenly became smug. "Her tunnel. There. That is the big secret Father revealed to me. Scotia might be a mighty trainer, but she is not very bright to leave a tunnel along the shoreline at the base of her castle unguarded."
"Why would Father tell you of such a place?"
Griffin smiled. "He begrudgingly revealed its presence to me when I told him I would follow you here. He feared you would slay me where I stood for abandoning the clan. He wanted me to have a chance to explain my presence before you sliced me down."
"So instead of using the tunnel for that purpose, you chose to attack Scotia instead?" Ian kept his words light and teasing, putting aside the anger the memory brought to him. Bashing his brother over the head with his misdeeds had never solved problems between them.
Griffin's smile slipped. "I was angry. Father had chosen you over me once again. I wanted to hurt you, not her. I figured the fastest way to do that was to take away your 'trainer' and gain what I could from her title and lands."
"Scotia is not the problem here."
"I know." Griffin looked away, his expression solemn.
Ian knew that his thoughts also turned to the real reason they were both at Glencarron Castle.
"The Four Horsemen are a real and deadly threat against Scotland," Ian said, fighting the turbulence their very names stirred in his blood. "If I cannot stop them, then it will be your duty to stop them, Griffin."
"You mean to go after them alone? Why not take Scotia's army with you?"
"As soon as her seasoned warriors return with information, she sends them back out to aid the fighting. What few warriors remain at the castle are needed here. Promise me you will complete your training, then take what you learn back to the clan. Teach the others. If you wanted more responsibility when you came here, little brother, you have it now. Scotia will help you strike these raiders and murderers down once and for all if you work with her instead of against her."
Griffin brought his gaze back to Ian's. "You really believe she has that much power? A woman?"
"Her sex matters not. She is a skilled and knowledgeable warrior. The best I have ever seen. Listen to what she can teach you."
Griffin narrowed his gaze. "If that is true, then why are you leaving?"
"Because I must," Ian replied flatly, hoping his brother would let the matter drop. For him, there could be no other outcome.
Griffin's eyes clouded and his expression became sad. "It is guilt that drives you. You want revenge because of Malcolm's death."
"Someone must see justice served."
Griffin shook his head. "I blamed you unfairly for his death. I was just as much to blame."
Ian got to his feet, uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had taken. As next eldest son, it was his responsibility to right those wrongs. Nothing more remained to be said. "Promise me you will stay with Scotia. Learn from her." Keep her safe.
A frown pulled down Griffin's brow. "You are certain you want to leave here?”
"Positive." Ian held out his right hand to his brother.
Griffin released a sigh. He joined his hand with Ian's and for the first time Ian noted an awakening of maturity in his brother's gaze. "You have my word."
Chapter Sixteen
From the mock tournament field she had created just inside the front gate, Scotia glanced away from her opponent. Ian strode toward her. Their gazes met and locked. For a timeless moment she stared into the depths of his dark and unreadable eyes and felt a rush of warmth tease her cheeks. Whenever he drew near, she could not look anywhere but at him.
"I must speak to you. In private," he said, his voice thick and rich.
She knew then what his features did not betray. He had come to say good-bye. The thought brought with it a stab of loss, and for a brief moment Scotia allowed the emotion to linger. When he walked out her gate, he would never return. She would gladly suffer that reality if it guaranteed his survival. Because suddenly, a world without Ian in it seemed a much lonelier place.
With an effort, Scotia returned her attention to Lizbet.
"Lizbet, I shall teach you more swordplay in a while. For now, please go to Maisie and Burke over there near the mews. They will take you inside the castle for a rest."
When the child's lip turned down in a pout, she added, "All great warriors need times of rest after their training."
"Then I shall rest," Lizbet agreed, and reluctantly turned and headed to the mews.
Alone in Ian's presence, Scotia stood on unsteady legs.
"Scotia—"
"Will anything I say dissuade you?"
"Nay," he said. "I must avenge my brother's death."
"Then you are a fool."
"Aye, a fool who wants to keep the people he cares about safe from further harm." He reached up to smooth a finger against the curve of her cheek.
Scotia tried to still the rioting sensations he created on her cheek with his featherlight touch. "I have spoken to Griffin. He will remain with you to complete his training. If he challenges you, you have my permission to sever his arms or skewer him through the heart." He offered her a wry grin. "Whichever you prefer."
"How kind of you. I can take care of Griffin should the need arise."
"I believe you can."
At the clatter of hoofbeats on the packed earth, Scotia turned toward the stables. A stable boy lead Ian's horse toward them, saddled and ready for travel. She stepp
ed back, away from Ian's touch. "This is good-bye, then."
"Aye." He did not elaborate on his plans, likely so she could not do something so foolish as to follow him.
"If you are ready, then go." She kept her gaze averted, not wanting him to see the sudden racing of her pulse or the emptiness that must surely show on her face. "Be quick about it."
She motioned to Poppie, the gatekeeper, to open the portcullis. The grinding of the heavy chains cut through the silence of the nearly empty outer bailey. Scotia tensed, waiting for Ian to step away, to swing up on his horse and ride out of her castle and her life.
A sound rose from his throat. Instead of moving away, he pulled her into his arms. With a gasp, she brought her gaze to his.
His eyes were nearly black. "Until we meet again."
He pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. Scotia meant to resist, but found herself leaning into his arms. Her hand slid up the softness of his linen shirt, feeling the tautness of his muscles beneath.
Scotia's heart lurched in her chest. How could he melt her resolve with a mere kiss? She had always thought she was stronger than that.
When his tongue flicked against her lips, teasing, inviting, Scotia knew she was lost and retaliated in the only way she could. Sliding her hands around his shoulders, she kissed him back, letting him part her lips and, when his tongue probed, she welcomed the invasion.
She felt his sharp intake of breath a moment before he pulled away, releasing her as suddenly as he had claimed her. "I must go."
He strode to his horse and swung up into the saddle. Without looking back he headed through the gate.
Her vision clouded as she stared after him, but she tilted up her chin and kept her back straight, refusing to give in to her tears. The Warrior Trainer did not cry.
It took only a moment for her vision to clear. When it did, she saw not only Ian upon his horse at the brink of the gate, but another warrior as well.
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