A Rose in the Highlands (Highland Roses School)

by Heather McCollum

Scarlet continued to study her. “You moved his room, so he moved your room. Nothing has been truly harmed, and yet you’re still so angry that we will soon run out of milled flour.” She tipped her head and dipped down to catch Evelyn’s gaze. “There is more to your anger than the wall and his name in plaster.”

  Blast but her sister was a mind-reading witch. Evelyn glanced behind her to see Molly just outside the kitchen door inspecting an herb garden where Evelyn had attacked a small rosemary bush to use in the rolls. She dropped her gaze to the smooth dough before her. “He saw me weep.”

  “Weep?” Scarlet pushed off the table. “You cried before him?”

  Reluctantly, Evelyn nodded, lifting her gaze. “A tear, just one, but he saw it before I could snatch the door key from him.”

  “Did he apologize?” Scarlet crossed her arms.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Evelyn yelled, then lowered her voice. “I am not a weeping woman, using her tears to sway men. I am not Mother.”

  “Of course you aren’t Mother,” Scarlet said. “’Twas why Father respected you.”

  Evelyn stared at her, her lips parted. “Respected me?”

  Scarlet nodded. “Even if he yelled, he listened to you, spoke to you. Unlike me. In fact, I don’t think he ever conversed with me directly. He talked about me only to others, like I was a horse of good breeding.” She frowned but then flipped her hand as if shooing away the memory. “You, Evie, are nothing like Mother. She wept all the time, for every reason, not like you at all.”

  Evelyn inhaled slowly, letting Scarlet’s words sink in. “Grey doesn’t know that,” she whispered. “He must think I’m weak.” She shook her head slightly. Weakness, something she abhorred. She’d spent her life listening to her father rail about women and how weakness was their nature, and each time their mother wept before him, it added to his abject distaste. To him, all women were weak, crying beings who were valuable only for the babes they could push into the world. Evelyn doubted that she’d made any lasting impression on him.

  Scarlet crossed her arms. “You have stood up to his sword point and yelled at him. I hardly think he’d consider you weak for shedding one little tear.” Her brows pinched inward. “And the tear? You were that upset about the wall?”

  Evelyn’s hands moved on their own, arranging the rolls on a flat piece of pottery that would be placed in the wood-fire oven. “I was exhausted after working all day and shocked about him moving my things, but…” She met Scarlet’s gaze. “I think it was that he tricked me, us, saying that they were working on the rooms and not to come up the stairs. When all along he was doing something only for himself.”

  Scarlet nodded, her face grim. “Well, we are the enemy, and we’ve taken his home. I think there is selfishness on all sides in a quarrel. We all want to win.”

  “But Nathaniel paid—”

  Scarlet held up her hand to cut Evelyn off. “Yes, I know, but we are looking at it from our point of view, not his.”

  Evelyn frowned. “I’m still angry.”

  Scarlet smiled. “You may be nothing like our sire, but you sure can hold on to your ire like him. Leave the rolls for Molly and come to our self-defense training to work out what’s left of your fury.”

  “He will be there,” Evelyn whispered.

  “Perhaps you can deliver a blow,” Scarlet said and smiled. “Either way, show him just how strong you are.”

  The thought made Evelyn’s stomach tense, but she nodded. “Are the other ladies there?”

  “Most likely. I left Alana and Izzy in the great hall to come look for you. They planned to go up and said Kirstin would be along soon.”

  Evelyn dusted her hands on her apron and took it off. “Afterward we can go over the hornbooks with them again.”

  They walked the corridor and up the winding stairs. Would Grey be there already? His teasing tone had turned to surprise and then remorse last night, but she didn’t need or want any apology. For in truth, she was angrier at herself.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alana and Izzy were already in the new physical education room, and James had brought two polished mirrors. Alana stood before one, fixing her hair while Izzy watched her.

  “I have found our teacher,” Scarlet called.

  “I am the teacher of topics in the library,” Evelyn said, relaxing as she noted that Grey was missing. Maybe he wouldn’t come at all. “If our self-defense teacher does not arrive soon, we can adjourn to the library.”

  “To look at more art?” Alana asked, grinning.

  Evelyn met her smile. “Only if you work on sounding out the letters in the hornbook first.”

  “I am here,” Kirstin called as she strode into the room, holding several folded pieces of cloth. “Where is Grey?”

  “Not here yet,” Scarlet said.

  Kirstin set her small stack down and held up a man’s shirt, shaking it out. She smiled. “I have his shirt to return with a new button attached.”

  Evelyn’s breath caught as she stared at the shirt Grey wore last night, the one with the dangling button that had fallen off during their battle. “You…sewed on his button?” Evelyn asked softly.

  “Aye, when he came to me last night,” Kirstin said, a smug smile crossing her lips. “I noticed it was missing and sewed it on.” Alana’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t say anything.

  Evelyn had heard Grey walk past her room. The bastard had gone to Kirstin, and if what she insinuated was true, he’d passed the night in her bed. The tightness in Evelyn’s stomach returned, along with a twisting nausea.

  “You also brought back his…trousers?” Scarlet asked as Izzy held up the second item Kirstin brought in. They looked like men’s trousers made of dark linen.

  Kirstin laughed. “Nay. They are for Evelyn first. But if they work, I will make them for us all.”

  “Trousers?” Evelyn asked.

  “Aye, for training,” Kirstin said. “Think of how ye could move when wearing something without burdensome skirts. Ye will be able to kick with force.”

  Kick with force? Evelyn hoped that Grey would show up for their lesson. She’d muster some force if she got to kick him.

  “Try them on behind the screen,” Alana said, pointing to an embroidered screen hiding the privy pot in the corner.

  Kirstin tipped her head, studying Evelyn. “I had to guess on the size, since I had no measurements and lasses are shaped differently than lads.”

  “I have no shirt,” Evelyn said.

  “Wear Grey’s,” Scarlet said. “I can tie the excess behind you.”

  For a long moment, Evelyn stood indecisively. “Come now,” Kirstin urged. “If ye don’t like the way they feel, ye can take them right off.”

  Evelyn strode forward, taking the trousers and shirt. As Kirstin continued to list the good reasons for wearing trousers for training, Evelyn unlaced her stays and wiggled out of her bodice and skirts. She rolled down her stockings, leaving her feet bare. She threw the shirt over her head, pulling her unbound hair out. Her breasts were completely free under Grey’s shirt, and although it felt liberating, it also felt scandalous. She ignored the masculine smell lingering in the fabric and quelled the urge to yank off the new button. “Lustful bastard,” she whispered, grabbing up the trousers to shake.

  Sliding her bare legs into each hole, she shimmied into the trousers and buttoned them at her waist. Looking down, she could clearly see the outline of her legs, the trousers being rather tight. She fished her long hairpin out of the pocket of her gown and twisted up a quick bun.

  “Come out for us to see,” Kirstin called. Was the woman trying to make Evelyn look masculine or ridiculous? First the boxy, rough work dress, and now the trousers.

  Evelyn inhaled fully, pushed her shoulders back, and raised her chin as if she were once again being called before her father. Walking out from the screen, she went straight to one of t
he polished mirrors.

  “Good lord,” Scarlet said, laughter in her voice. “They certainly show off your curves.”

  Evelyn stared at herself as Scarlet gathered the excess shirt, tying it in the back. Despite the masculine shirt and pulled back hair, she looked nothing like a man in the tight trousers. “’Tis indecent,” she said, turning in a circle.

  Kirstin frowned. “I agree. I did not make them with enough room for your hips and bum.”

  “They look so easy to move in,” Alana said. “Kick up high.”

  Evelyn lifted one leg and then the next and found her first smile of the day. “It is much easier without the layers of skirts.” She spun in a circle and lifted one knee and then the next. “Rather freeing. Think of how easy it would be to ride a horse in these.”

  Evelyn bent forward, stretching down to touch her toes, her backside in the air.

  “Bloody fabulous.” A man’s voice made Evelyn straighten and spin toward the doorway. There stood Grey and his warrior, Kerrick. While Kerrick grinned ear to ear with wide eyes, Grey frowned. They walked into the room, and Evelyn fought the urge to run behind the changing screen. She donned her best determined gaze and stood tall, despite feeling like she was naked.

  …

  Grey took in everything about Evelyn. The small curls escaping her twisted hair to frame her beautiful face, the loose hang of… Was that his shirt, barely hiding her ample, unbound breasts? And the trousers. They gently hugged her woman’s curves, skimming her skin, and displaying what only a husband was to see in their bedchamber. “What are ye wearing?” he asked.

  Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest. “Training trousers.”

  “I made them for her,” Kirstin said. “But I do not think they suit her.”

  “I do,” Kerrick said. “Quite well.”

  “They are to make movement easier while training to defend oneself,” Evelyn said, frowning, her gaze moving away from Grey. “I would wear them only in this room.”

  “I would like a pair,” Alana said. “To train in.”

  “I think all the lasses should have a pair,” Kerrick said.

  “Thalla’s cagainn bruis,” Grey said, his voice low in warning, though Kerrick didn’t seem too bothered by his chief’s curse.

  “Shall we start?” Evelyn said. “The day is wasting, and I have letters to teach.”

  “Aye,” Kerrick said. “Grey asked me along to help, since there are several of ye.” He stepped forward. “I can work with—”

  “Kirstin,” Grey finished, and he strode across the floor. “I will start with ye,” he said to Evelyn, stopping before her. “Let us practice with grabbing wrists.”

  “Scarlet, you and Alana can work together while Isabel watches for now,” Evelyn said, her gaze landing behind him. Evelyn fastened her gaze on his chin. Long lashes curled upward toward her perfectly groomed brows.

  “If someone is coming toward ye,” he began, “the first thing to do is meet the attacker’s eyes.”

  “With one’s fingernails?” Alana asked.

  Grey glanced at his sister. “Nay, with your own gaze. Let the attacker know ye see him, that ye aren’t afraid.”

  Evelyn raised her gaze to meet his own. Her eyes were a dark grayish-blue today. There was a coolness in them, as if she mustered indifference or anger.

  “Next, attackers grab both wrists.” Grey reached forward, encircling her slender wrists.

  “When do we get to kick?” Evelyn asked, a challenge in her gaze. Aye, she was bloody furious, which he preferred to the tear he saw last night.

  “In a bit,” he said. “First, twist your hands, snap them down to break the hold. Ye must do it quickly.”

  Evelyn twisted and snapped her arms down and back toward herself, breaking the hold. He nodded. “Good.” He turned to see if the others had been successful.

  “What if they come from behind?” Scarlet asked, her face hard. “Grabbing one around her arms.” She came up behind Alana to wrap her in a brutal hold.

  Gray looked to Evelyn. “Can ye be the attacker?”

  “I think I can manage that,” she said, her face neutral. He turned toward the group as Evelyn wrapped her arms around his from behind. The feel of her body pressed against him, especially without the layers of skirts, stirred his blood, and he hoped to God and the devil that he didn’t tent out his kilt before them all. Did the woman have to always smell of flowers?

  “Raise your arms under the hold,” he said. “If it is too tight, stomp on the attacker’s foot or kick back to stomp against his knee. Ye can also bend at the hips to bump him with your arse.” He bent, pressing his arse into Evelyn’s abdomen.

  He cleared his throat, standing straight. “The surprise will loosen his hold, and ye raise your arms, using your elbow to strike him in the face.” Grey demonstrated, pretending to stomp down on Evelyn’s bare foot. Her toes were perfectly shaped, little appendages that turned under to grip the rug. Shaking the lapse in concentration, he raised his arms and slowly jabbed his elbow back as if to make contact with her bonny face.

  He turned, their gazes connecting. The flush on her cheeks trailed down her lovely neck into the vee of his shirt that dipped low on her collarbone. “And then ye run away,” he said.

  She didn’t break the stare, her perfect lips moving over white teeth. “What if I prefer to fight instead of running away?”

  Grey frowned. Did she see through the strategy that he and Aiden had discussed just last night? That he wished her to abandon Finlarig and run back to England?

  “It would be wisest for a woman to run away,” Grey replied. “As a man, bent on attack, will continue if given the chance. Villains are a determined lot.”

  She drew closer, her words soft. “Perhaps I am a villain then, because I’m known to be determined.”

  Behind him, Kerrick cleared his throat. “I agree that ye should run if given the chance, but if ye must fight…” He gestured to Kirstin. “Say the attacker still has hold of your arm. Grab my arm, lass,” he said, and Kirstin did, a look of concentration pinching her mouth. “Either take the heel of your palm and jam it upward at his nose or take those kitten claws and sink them in his eyes.”

  “More like tigress claws,” Alana called. She fished around in her hair, pulling out a long hairpin with a sharp point. “I think we should all have a hairpin to use as well.” She made a stabbing motion.

  Kerrick nodded. “Aye, the hairpin could cause a mortal stab. Anywhere ye can scratch with your fingernails, ye can use the pin.”

  “Yelling nay, as loudly as ye can, also calls for help,” Grey said, turning back to Evelyn. He walked slowly around to her back, his gaze dipped along the lines of her hips and legs in the thin trousers. He came up behind her to wrap his arms around her. She was stiff. Guilt from her response last night still twisted inside him like a hollow feel, despite Aiden’s encouragement. He hadn’t yet apologized.

  Lips coming closer to her ear, where a soft curl framed the delicate rim, he said. “I’m sorry, Evelyn. For last night.”

  Before his next breath, she pushed her arse backward, and pain erupted in his knee as she kicked upward behind her, hitting it with the force of a mule. At the same time, her pointy elbow whipped back, slamming into his side. He grunted. She spun to face him, her face red and angry. With a raised hand, she snatched at her hair, making it tumble free, a lush brown fall of silk around her shoulders. She brandished a long, twisted hairpin before her.

  She stepped right up to him. “What is bringing you remorse?” she asked in a whispered hiss, her gaze hard. “The act of stealing my door and breaking down a wall or falling into bed with Kirstin afterward?”

  He opened his mouth and closed it again. Bloody hell. Kirstin? He hardly had time to glance at the other woman before Evelyn’s knee launched forward, aimed at his groin. Shifting the slightest amount saved him from do
ubling over onto the floorboards, and before she could lower her knee, he caught it, his other hand gripping the hairpin to stop it. He came closer, anger at her attack tightening his features. “Neither,” he said.

  “You regret neither?” she asked, her face mere inches from his as he lifted her knee, making her wobble.

  “Aye. I mean, nay,” he answered and dropped her leg. He held the pin away, keeping it from another deadly strike, and leaned close. “The first action was to accommodate my bed, and the second… I don’t know what ye are talking about.”

  Evelyn’s fingers came up to toy with a button on his shirt she wore that didn’t match the others below it. “She brought it with her to class, the one you left with her last night,” she whispered.

  “I see that Lady Evelyn has tried the groin attack,” Kerrick called. “It’s fortunate for Grey that we train to avoid thrusts to the groin, as men are known to target the area in hand-to-hand combat. For if hit directly, the kick will drop even a bear of a man to the ground. Therefore, it is good to learn.” He walked toward them, his one eyebrow cocking upward at Grey. “Let us switch partners for a bit.”

  Grey crossed his arms, his mind cranking through what he’d just witnessed. Evelyn was furious, but what was much more interesting was the fact that she was…jealous?

  …

  Evelyn moved through the motions stoically with Kerrick, though behind her neutral expression the pressure of anger built. Grey hadn’t denied visiting Kirstin, and, since he wasn’t apologizing for that or relocating her room without asking, he must be referring to her show of weakness. One blasted tear.

  “That’s it, milady,” Kerrick said as she stomped on his booted foot, though her bare foot would hardly pain him. Meanwhile Kirstin wore a large grin as Grey wrapped his arms around her.

  Scarlet showed Izzy some of the moves while Alana watched. Why didn’t Grey work with one of them?

  “If the stomping doesn’t work, try something else,” Kerrick said, throwing her into motion.

  With a backward punch of her hips and kick of her foot, Evelyn heard Kerrick grunt, but she kept watch of Kirstin. The simpering woman wasn’t trying to get out of Grey’s arms at all. She was smiling up into his face like she wished he’d throw her skirts over her head.