Of course, you do. But do I?
Sensing the need to be worthy of his praise, she nodded and inhaled deeply. “I will keep this place running until you get back.”
“Sarah,” Conall began, but she held up her hands.
“No, Conall. I will only agree to manage all this short-term. You will simply have to come back.” Straightening her frame, she pasted a pleasant smile on her face, as if daring him to contradict her.
His bold gaze faded as he closed his eyes. “Aye, you will handle all until my return. But you do ken--”
“Stop right there. What part of I-don’t-want-you-to-actually-say-that-part don’t you understand?” Though trying to tease, she swallowed back the tight lump in her throat. “Don’t say that part.”
“I will nay speak it if that brings you peace.” His offer was a poor band-aid for the elephant in the room.
There is no way avoidance brings peace, it simply avoids and I’m good with that right now. I plan to avoid for a bit. Avoid thinking of you leaving, avoid knowing that you might never come back and most of all, avoid the certainty that I love you too much.
But she only thanked him for not speaking the words that could crush her.
“I have one more request,” Conall added with a sigh. “I would see you continue to work with Donald on the fields. Nay every day, but enough to allow you to protect yourself should the need arise.”
Cocking her head to the side, she forced humor into her voice, even if her heart didn’t agree. “Oh, come on, I nailed it today.” To prove her point, she narrowed her eyes and put on a fierce gaze.
But Conall didn’t grin. He sat back and merely waited for her to stop fooling around.
“Didn’t I?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, you did catch me off guard, but I managed to turn the tables and flip you over.” She could feel the rush of finally remembering how to use the opponent’s weight against them in that sweet victory. Even if the maneuver took her ages to recall with her mother’s voice taunting her mental lapse and years of lethargy. Through it all, Rachel’s laughter had rung in her head.
“You fought to win a contest, nay to survive.” His lips pursed, and she knew what he would say just before he said it. “I let you turn me onto my back.”
“Why? I finally remembered how to do it right,” she argued, not enjoying having the victory rush squashed like a bug.
“I could feel you succeeding and allowed it to happen. But it matters naught, for you fought. Next time you need to fight to survive, nay for sport.” Gripping the dagger bound to her waist, he tugged at it and focused her attention.
“After you surprised me with your elbow, you should have reached for the dagger to stab my leg or hip. A wounded man would easily flip off you, giving you a chance to regain your weapon and flee.” He gave the lesson sternly and with a hint of reprimand.
Sarah leaned forward. “There is no way I would even think of stabbing you.”
“On the field I am nay your loving husband. I am the threat. Treat me as such or cease learning to live.” Conall snarled his challenge.
Did he say loving husband, or did I imagine that part? More importantly, did he mean it? And why is he so hung up on the survival aspect?
Her instincts told her to get off his lap, but he must have sensed that given that his hands held her hips firmly in place. “Sarah, I meant no insult, but you fought as one would when bets were placed. You need to think of survival, nay pride. Fight with no morals. Raise your weapon to kill or be killed, nay for praise. If ‘tis blood to be shed, do the shedding.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the glimpse into what years of warfare had made him. She could see the rage and certainly heard the lack of ethics and suddenly had a greater insight into him. He lived because he broke the rules. Conall sat her with her on his lap only due to an extreme will to live regardless of right or wrong. Such opposition to the man that I have come to know. No wonder he shuts down. He’s lived in complete contradiction with his beliefs.
Whether awed by his self-preservation, disturbed by the violent vehemence or drawn to his spirit, she settled back and nodded. Holding his gaze, she stared into angry eyes that dared her to have the same will. “Show me what I did wrong.”
Somewhere in the future, Rachel and Mom are grinning and they have no idea why. For years and years, they tried to make me want to be stronger. I only wish I had paid more attention.
Conall shook his head. “Nay. I let my need for you to live take me too far. The lesson could have been taught without you being forced to the ground.” One hand lifted to wrap around a curl falling over her shoulder. “I should be asking for your forgiveness. Or rather I should have when we left the field.”
Soft sounds left her lips as the pieces of his distance clicked into place. “You felt bad, so you worked in the study rather than joining me in the tub.” Pushing out her lips in a pout, she whispered, “And left me to wash my hair all by myself. You do know that I prefer it when you wash me.”
Finally, Conall grinned. “As I prefer to make certain all of you is clean. And, aye, I hid due to my concerns of hurting you. I attacked you.”
Thinking back to the afternoon and the intense shock of Conall taking her to the ground, she disagreed. “You caught me by surprise, but attack isn’t the right word. You controlled our fall and took the brunt of it. If you hadn’t, I would have had the air knocked out of me or at the minimum, landed hard enough to hurt my hands or knees.”
Sarah held up her palms. “No marks and there should be some.” Pushing her skirt up to reveal her knees, she added, “No boo-boos here either.”
The side of his mouth twitched up as his hand covered a knee. “I would never do aught to bring you pain. Never.”
“I know,” she said while her brain screamed about the heartache to come with his departure. You’d never hurt me physically. “So, finish the lesson and show me what I should do.”
Remaining quiet, his hand left her knee to gently push under her bunched skirts to hold the skin of her bare hip. When she shuddered beneath his touch, he chuckled. “On the morrow, mayhap.”
To his surprise, and a bit of hers, she pulled his hand back out and laced their fingers together. “Show me and then I’ll let you explore under there.” She gave him an exaggerated wink and then forced herself to stand.
Still seated, he reached out and grabbed her hips to yank her close and kiss her hip through the material. “But I have yet to count the fine freckles on the skin you deny me.”
Oh, I love when you count and how it makes my skin burn and the rest of me crave the same thorough exploration. Do you have any idea how badly I need you when you do that me? Each touch becomes a cruel tease while I wait for the second you can’t restrain the need and you take me, all of me.
Forcing images of passion from her mind, she practically whimpered with regret. “Later. First, finish this.” Leaning over him, she ran her hands through his hair and down to brush over his shoulders, loving the way he leaned into her and the sound of his breath catching. “Or are you afraid that I will be too much for you to handle? I’m a quick learner.”
Conall’s chest rumbled in what she hoped was a chuckle, but the sound had an edge she’d never heard. “So be it, but I will nay tackle you again.”
“Party pooper,” she mumbled as she stepped away from the chairs.
Placing her hand over the dagger, she quickly decided to remove it and placed it on the table.
“You need that,” Conall corrected her as he lifted it and held it out.
“No way are we doing this with real weapons. One of us could hurt the other.” Glancing around for a substitute, she picked up the wooden comb and settled it into the sheath as far as it would go.
Eyeing the item, he nodded but continued to stare. “My mother had one crafted from silver with etchings. You should have the same.”
“Stop trying to distract me your sweet and generous offers. Besides, we both know that it’s unlikely any comb will control t
his mess.” Pointing to the crazed mass of red curls, she shook them for effect and smiled as Conall stopped to stare. “Are you ready? Where do you want to do this?” She glanced between the floor and the bed; the latter seemed too soft to be a good surface.
Conall pushed the chairs out of the way, which had the dog glancing up before deciding sleep to be the better option. He pointed to the fur rug. “Here, before the fire.”
As she settled her body face down, the crackle of another log being added to the fire popped into the quiet. “Ready when you are.” She held her hand as if it held the sword over her head as she had earlier in the day.
Gazing down at her, Conall shook his head. “No sword. ‘Tis unlikely you will spend your days with one strapped to your back. Hands by your head as if you have just fallen.” Then he crouched down and ran his hands over her hair. “The first time I will lead you, the next I will nay.”
She could feel his hesitancy. “Sounds perfect,” Sarah attempted to reassure him. “That’s exactly how my mother would have taught me.”
He rose and grumbled, “What ‘tis about to happen, no mother would approve.”
Sarah laughed as he settled over her back. “You clearly have never met my mother.” Feeling his weight spread evenly over her, she knew he held back and waited for the lesson to begin.
Several deep breaths blew against her hair. “You have been brought to the ground and will likely be winded. Picture such in your mind.” His hands gripped her arms as he pinned her to the rug. “What do you do?”
Knowing her first objection would be a free hand, she lifted her head to almost strike his face. “I head butt you, which should surprise you.”
Feeling his upper body shift, she pulled her right hand free and reached for the comb, immediately taking it in her hand and making a stabbing motion against his upper thigh.
“Well done. Now work for it.” His voice commanded as more of his bulk settled over her. Again, she repeated the motions while Conall increased his resistance. When she again stabbed him, he said, “You ken the idea. But have nay had to fight back.”
More weight pushed on her back and made breathing a bit harder. Hands gripped her forearms with a strong hold, tighter than before. He made her whip her head back three times before letting her reach the comb.
“Why do I feel like you are still going too easy on me?” She hated the question as soon as it left her mouth. She’d once asked an instructor at her mother’s dojo the same one and had wound up spent, bruised and exhausted.
“I am. Are you ready?” His voice came clipped and hard.
When she nodded, one hand gripped her wrists over her head while the other pushed against her neck. It took several attempts to gain purchase and she only succeeded when twisting her head and arms simultaneously. “You took away my only weapon.”
“Aye, only to see if you could reason it through. But no man will occupy both hands to restrain you. Odds are he would strike you, but I will nay. Only ken it could come,” Conall said, still spread over her back. He squirmed against her until she felt his arousal against her backside. “Can you feel me?” His whisper came against her ear as his hips pushed against her.
“Does that mean we are done with the lesson?” Sarah teased, but she didn’t feel any slack in his weight.
“Nay, but ken that you would be attacked with a singular purpose. Many men confuse lust and battle rage.” Conall again held her arms over her head. “I have killed men for such acts, even those under my command. Yet, here I am with you beneath me and find the thoughts combined.” While his voice carried a light note, she heard the self-loathing underneath.
“Well, I am your wife.” Wiggling her backside against him, she forced a small laugh. “I would hope you might have other thoughts with me,” Sarah countered, wondering if the exercise hadn’t triggered something better left alone and refused to ask the question floating in her head.
“Never, Sarah. I have never even had the impulse to do such.” His answer made her sigh even doubting he could be possible of such atrocities. “Yet, I will take your lesson as far as needed to make certain you recall it.” She felt his next deep breath filled with resignation. “Or you will tell me we are done.”
Pausing to consider, she forced herself to say, “Continue.” While maybe not the best decision, she had the overwhelming feeling Conall had held back more than he should have, given the nature of the self-defense drill. She easily recalled several classes from her youth where the person faux-attacked had been driven to tears and then had come back for more, driven to succeed and conquer. That drive finally made sense to her.
“Forgive me, but I will surrender naught unless you tell me to stop or succeed in stabbing me,” he whispered a second before his full weight covered her.
Stunned by the sheer volume of Conall pushing her down and her wrists captured in an iron grip, her head flew back to strike several times, each one connecting albeit softly, until she managed to pull one wrist free to grab at the comb. With him pushing against her, she only managed to run it down his leg while gasping for breath.
“Fine,” he said into the back of her hair. “‘Twould be enough to allow you to break free.” His praise came as he tensed against her back. She could practically smell his next sentence with dread. “Still I hold back.”
Her cheek fell to the fur rug as she attempted to catch her breath. “Why aren’t you even breathing hard?”
Conall never answered her. Instead he pushed against her behind to illustrate his arousal with her beneath him. “We should cease.”
“No, I need you to finish this.” Brushing her face over the soft texture of the rug that contrasted with the hard man on her back, she knew one more fact about herself. “I need to know if I can.”
“Why?” he asked with a heavy sigh.
“I don’t know exactly, but I need to know.” Loathing the uncertainty she would have never accepted from a patient, she thought about the situation. His arousal made sense even if it bothered him. While she didn’t question her lack of violent fantasies, she did ponder her need to succeed. A need that hadn’t existed until she had discovered she hadn’t won.
Then it hit her. Conall had looked so sad while telling her she hadn’t beaten him. Feeling the rightness of the discovery, she covered one of his hands with hers and savored his warmth mixed with the furs. “Because you need to know that I can.”
Conall shuddered on her back and told her without words.
“You need to be sure I can escape from the brutality you have seen too many times. This way the next time you see it, you won’t picture me on the ground.” Her voice spoke with force as his hand tightened around hers.
“You speak truth that I would never utter. On the training field when I let you up, my mind placed you in situations I pray you never witness,” Conall admitted with a kiss to her temple. “Yet, the next challenge will be. . . it goes too far.”
“So let’s take it too far,” Sarah said with full confidence even as doubt crept in and then added, “But if I lose, not too far. Do you follow me?”
Conall remained silent and she only heard his breathing, harsh and labored. “I ken your meaning, but will push you to the edge if needed.” His breath blew out. “Do you follow me?”
The edge is so not a good place and I’m not that type of challenge-based therapist. But I will dance on it if doing so helps you.
“I follow you.” Her acquiescence left her pulse racing with the certainty her body became the edge at some point. She silently vowed to push her strength if only to keep one solitary darkness from his mind.
“Then I will act as I have seen and you will fight me with everything you have, my wee warrior,” Conall told her and then gaze her hand a final squeeze.
Visions of what had and what hadn’t worked filled her mind and she waited for the lesson to become the test with dread and adrenaline running in her veins. Again, the notion of the unknown raced across her mind and for a second she debated ending it before
they went too far for his good, not worried for self-protection. Conall held her down, but he would never do anything to even come close to hurting her.
“The game has ended. Fight me or I take all,” he growled into her hair right before pushing her down with all his weight.
The notion of being safe with him fled as she winced at the punishing grip on her wrists. Her head flew back to connect with his chin and one of his hands lifted to give her right hand a chance at escape. Yet the mock began to feel far too real as his hand gripped the back of her dress and tore it down to her hip. A gasp flew from her lips while her free hand forgot about the dagger and tried to stop his from ripping away more fabric.
The tearing stopped at her lower back with her twisting and struggling beneath him. When she felt the pull at her hips from the rawhide string that held the dagger, she cursed under her breath as the belt broke. Her hand reached the comb just before the belt pulled away from her body. Air rushed over her behind while more ripping filled the air. He dodged and shifted out of her reach and the comb briefly touched her own hip.
Then panic filled her as the tearing hand left hers and she felt it press between them to pull at the ties on his trews. A sharp cry left her mouth as she put everything she had into one strike that hit hard enough to bounce off his side.
A low deadly growl at her side had the command out of her mouth. “Down, Bella. Sit down.” Simultaneously, Conall rolled off her to lay perfectly still at the dog’s feet, with his breath gasping and chest heaving.
Yet the dog growled with her eyes locked on Conall.
“Down, girl.” Sarah softened her voice while she struggled for a complete breath. “It’s okay, see.” She lifted one of Conall’s hands and kissed it while he lay with his eyes closed.
Finally, the dog whimpered and then licked Conall’s face before returning to her makeshift bed. They both knew the dog still watched.
“Keep Bella with you at all times,” he growled out and then stood and walked to the door. With his hand on the latch, he leaned against the wood and then hit it with one balled fist.
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