She regretted now her hasty decision to turn down his proposal. Not because she latently fancied herself in love with him. She knew she could never love a man like Thomas. But a marriage to him would have left her home and surrounded by those she loved.
“Do ye mean to train with Aidan and his men?” Cailean's widening gaze echoed Elsbeth's concern.
Bridget squared her shoulders. “I do.”
Cailean shook her head so hard, the force sent her braids whipping around her shoulders. “Ye canna do that. Women can fight, aye, but they dinna train with the men.”
“That's foolish,” Bridget countered. “Why should a woman be allowed to fight, but not allowed to train?” She tilted her head with a touch of arrogance she could not squelch. “You should be training, too. I'll even teach you to use a sword.”
A light shone in Cailean's gaze and indecision visibly warred on her pretty face. “It would be fun…”
“Perhaps you'll be more comfortable after you've seen me train with them first.”
Cailean nodded, and evident relief relaxed her shoulders down a few notches. Bridget kissed the girl’s cheek and made her way out into the courtyard where the men practiced, the delicate weight of Cailean’s stare following her the entire way.
It took only a moment for the men to notice her and within one minute, all fighting had ceased and every set of eyes was fixed on her. Aidan threw down the targe he had strapped to his arm. The heavy wooden shield fell to the ground with a reverberating clunk. Its echo carried in the silence.
He stalked toward her, his head lowered. Bridget widened her stance and steeled her resolve.
“Why are ye dressed like that?” he demanded in a quiet voice.
“Because I intend to train with you.” She answered loud enough for all to hear. “As I did with my brothers in Northumbria.”
“Bridget.” It was the first time he'd ever said her given name aloud.
She looked at him and found his eyes blazing with rage.
If he'd meant to intimidate her with such an expression, he clearly did not know her. A surge of pleasure rushed through her to have angered him so.
The skin around his eyes tightened. “Get that smirk off yer face and return to the keep at once.”
“I will not leave until I am allowed to train.” She spoke aloud again, much to Aidan's great irritation, if the twitching of his left eye was any indication. “And if you try to force me inside, know that I will fight.”
She drew up her arming sword between them. It wasn't the one she wore with her armor. That one was safe upstairs. No, this blade had been dulled for practice. And while she couldn't cut into flesh with it, she could still cause injury.
“Let her practice.” It was Aidan's uncle who strode up to them. He was a large man, like his nephew, with the same green eyes and brown hair. “If the lass wants to get herself hurt, it's her own damn fault, but at least it'll shut her up.”
“She's still my wife, Donald.” Aidan slid him a hard glare. “Mind how ye speak of her.”
“Forgive me, nephew.” The apology was pointedly directed at Aidan and not Bridget, she noticed. The cur.
Aidan turned an assessing gaze on her and finally nodded. “Ye can go shoot arrows with Rabbie.”
He indicated behind him where the five-year-old boy stood a ways from several tilted targets, a bow hanging limp in his hands. His face lit up when he noticed everyone look his way and he gave an emphatic wave to Bridget.
“If I didn't like the boy so much, I'd decline your generous offer.” Bridget glared openly at Aidan. “But since he fortunately does not share your countenance, I'll accept.”
The offer was an insult and everyone knew it. Accepting it regardless was by no means a form of her being weak or giving up. No, it was a chance to prove herself worthy of training with the men. And she'd do whatever it took to show up her arse of a husband.
#
Aidan couldn't stop his gaze from sliding to where Bridget and Rabbie stood by the targets. It had something to do with how she patiently instructed the lad and the whoops of encouragement she lavished upon him. Rabbie's face near shone with his pleasure.
But the pull of Aidan's gaze had far more to do with the man's clothing Bridget wore. The hose hugged her legs and showed off the delicate curve of her calf muscles beneath. His fingertips longed to trace over them down to the gentle line of her slender ankles. Her bosom was flat beneath the tunic. Had he not seen hints of their former generosity, he would have been disappointed. He did appreciate a fine pair of generous breasts.
She'd clearly bound them against her to keep them from being loose beneath the large tunic. The very idea of them bouncing beneath the thin fabric was enough of a distraction for him to get thwacked on the head. His uncle frowned at him.
“Stop worrying about the lass,” Donald growled. “She asked for this.”
Donald didn't realize it wasn't worry plaguing Aidan's thoughts, but lust. Aidan wanted to strip free her binding and let her abused breasts spill free for him to caress and lavish affection upon.
For a fortnight, he'd fallen asleep beside her, listening to her breathe, feeling the heat of her body against his back, being surrounded by the delicate feminine scent of her. And for a fortnight, he'd woken up with the most painful cockstand that ached all the way into his bollocks.
Another blow of the sword smacked against his forearm.
“Damn it, Aidan.” His uncle frowned. “Go talk to the lass so ye can get yer head back in the fight before I accidentally kill ye.”
More irritated at himself than Donald, Aidan threw his blade down with a grunt and strode to where Bridget and Rabbie were huddled together. She stood over Rabbie, her voice kind and patient while he pulled back on the bowstring.
“Remember to remain where you are a moment after,” she said.
Rabbie pressed his tongue between his lips, loosed his arrow, then remained standing in the same position. The arrow connected with the target with a pop. Directly in the middle of the target. Bridget grinned and ruffled his messy hair. “Perfect.”
Aidan stopped in front of her. “He canna stand for so long after a shot in battle or he'll be caught by an enemy's archer.”
Bridget scoffed. “You don't send an archer into the battle in the first place. You keep him on the outskirts to pick off your enemy as they're attacking and then you send him in with a sword if need be.”
She said it as if she thought him daft.
He fought to keep from glaring at her. “We dinna always fight on a neatly mapped battlefield. Sometimes we fight in the woods. The moment of hesitation after firing could mean his death.”
“So could missing his shot.”
God's teeth, but the woman was maddening.
“I'll no' have ye putting my wee brother at risk with yer foolish fighting tricks,” he declared.
Rabbie watched back and forth between the two as they spoke.
Bridget crossed her arms over her chest. “If you don't want him at risk, don't put him in battle. You know battle isn't safe no matter how strong a warrior or a knight you are.” She lifted her eyebrow, noting her own point of win in the conversation. One he'd never concede to. “I think you're afraid I'll be better than you assume.”
Aidan couldn't help but laugh. This wisp of a lass who played at being a boy with grown men was no real soldier. He knew women could fight and they could be damned tough, but she was no warrior.
Color rose in her cheeks. “Do you think you're better at shooting an arrow than I am?”
The training yard had grown quiet through the course of their conversation and was now silent as a tomb.
Aidan narrowed his eyes. “I know I am. And I dinna take a moment after I release the arrow for my enemy to kill me.”
She bent to grab two bows from the pile used for practice and tossed one to Aidan. “Then show me.”
He caught the bow. The challenge seemed almost foolish in its unfairness, like going up against Rabbie. Perhaps i
t'd be best to put the lass in her place to keep her from the ridiculous notion she could be a Scottish warrior.
She mistook his hesitation for something else and smirked. “Are you scared I'll win?”
The men around them watched on.
“Dinna be foolish - of course, I'm no' scared ye'll beat me.” Aidan couldn't keep the derisive tone from his voice. “I only worried I might beat ye too soundly.”
Laughter rose up from the men.
“Then let's make this interesting.” Her request incited the men further and cheers rose up from them.
He nodded. “Verra well. What do ye want?”
She looked down at the targets and the wind blew her dark hair back, revealing the scar along her jawline he'd given her two years prior. “First of all, we move them back so they're twice as far, and our shots will be judged out of five attempts.” She called out the orders like a commander on the battlefield. “If I win, I want the right to train with you and your men.”
Aidan shrugged. “Fine.” It would never come to pass, but he didn't say as much aloud.
“And what do you want if you win?” She met his gaze with those deep blue eyes of hers glinting. The expression on her face was cocky, her full lips quirked in a smile of confidence.
God, but she was beautiful.
Her. He wanted her. To roll over the separation between them at night and be met with the same hot longing he felt toward her.
But he couldn't say as much. Not in front of his men. The bit of blood he left on the sheets the morning after their wedding had been sufficient to keep questions from arising. He'd rather die than let people know he hadn't even bedded his own wife.
“If I win, ye'll no' ever show yer face in this courtyard during practice again.” He crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring her stubborn stance.
She grinned and lifted an arrow. “Then let the competition begin.”
CHAPTER SIX
The targets had been properly moved back and the archery challenge was set to begin.
Bridget flexed the bow several times to ensure it was comfortable in the grip of her fingertips. This was her one chance to prove herself, and she would not fail.
Aidan would lose.
Of course, he was quite cocky in his assumption he would be the one winning. He raised a hand in invitation. “Ye may go first.”
Bridget added extra sweetness to her smile. “How kind of you.”
He gave a gracious nod and she almost rolled her eyes.
She nocked her arrow, drew back her bow, and aimed down the long expanse of courtyard to the target some distance away. Her fingers released the slender bolt. She did not lower her bow until the head of the arrow sank into the target's very center.
Silence met her victory.
And then clapping. One lone set of hands applauding with all the celebration one energetic little boy could muster. Bridget turned to Rabbie with a smile and bowed low.
She wanted to hug him for his encouragement in this place full of her enemies.
Aidan said nothing and took his place in front of his own target. His gaze slid toward her before he lifted his bow. The muscles in his long arm flexed into granite. He was far stronger than she'd given him credit for. Not that archery was a strength-based skill. Still, she could not help but appreciate the deep etch of power carved into his flesh.
He released and lowered his bow before the arrow thunked into the target. Mostly center.
His men cheered.
“That was not center.” Bridget pointed to the target.
Aidan narrowed his eyes. “Looks center to me.”
One of his soldiers, a lanky young man, ran down to the targets and came back with a sheepish expression. “It's near enough, laird.”
Near enough.
Bridget's lips tugged upward with her mirth.
“Is it center?” Aidan asked.
The soldier pursed his lips and shook his head. “Nay, laird. No' exactly center.”
Aidan's jaw flexed. “Was hers?”
“Aye, laird.”
Aidan turned to Bridget and nodded. “Then I give ye this round.”
His concession surprised her. From what she'd known of the Scottish, they were not fair fighters. They attacked her home in Northumbria where women and children were hidden behind the walls of Castle Quelling. They killed without mercy on the battlefield.
And yet he'd awarded her a point when it would have been so easy to tie up their scores.
The following three arrows, he did not miss.
She did, however. Only one, the third arrow she launched. The gentle breeze in the courtyard stirred up into a powerful wind and tugged the tip of her arrow off center. She did not offer the justification for her miss though. It was still a miss regardless of how it happened.
Aidan was better than she'd given him credit for. Where she'd been confident in the beginning, now heat crept into her body and left her palms moist with sweat.
She had to win. Not just for herself, to prove she belonged among the men, but for England. To show these Scottish warriors how strong the English could be.
She took a deep breath and drew back her bow. Her aim went from the tip of her arrow and focused on the square of wood so far away. Everything faded out - the tickle of her hair against her cheek in the breeze, the shuffle of dozens of men, the man standing beside her - and she loosed her arrow.
It hit the mark exactly in the middle. She couldn't help the grin on her face.
“Nice shot.” Aidan nodded in appreciation.
“Will you do the same?” Even as the words left her mouth, she hated them. He'd been generous with his compliment, and her goading came across as petty.
She shifted back to give him more space. Aidan stepped in front of his target and his chest swelled with a deep, calming breath.
“Good luck, Aidan,” Rabbie called. A proud smile beamed from his face. “I love ye,” he whisper-shouted.
Aidan turned to the boy, but did not scold him for such open affection as most soldiers would do. He nodded to Rabbie with a smile and then resumed his focus on the target.
Bridget's heartbeat was smooth and steady when she shot her arrow. Now her heart staggered in a frenzied race. If he hit the target, they would have to go one more round.
He released his arrow and the fickle wind blew with all its might, sending his arrow slightly to the left of the center.
Her stomach flipped.
Aidan had lost.
Bridget watched him carefully when he finally met her gaze. He stalked slowly toward her, his expression set in a hard mask.
Would he blame the wind and demand they redo the final round?
Would he refuse to the terms of their agreement?
She kept her eyes locked with his and willed her heartbeat to calm. He stopped directly in front of her, and the warm scent of spicy male carried toward her on the wind. It was his smell. She'd come to learn it in the closeness of their shared slumber. Though he never touched her, though he was never near enough to even try, the room held his smell and brought with it a comfortable familiarity she found surprising.
“Ye did well, my lady.” He gave her an approving nod. “Practice begins after we break our fast.”
Her pulse leapt at his words.
“Ye may train with us, but I'll no’ allow ye to fight in battle with us, aye?” He lifted a brow.
“I'll agree to that,” she said. “For now.”
He grunted. “We'll see ye tomorrow morning, aye?”
She nodded and gave him a wide smile she couldn't keep from sharing.
She had won.
#
Aidan had never seen so beautiful a smile as the one his wife had bestowed upon him after winning the archery challenge.
He could imagine no better consolation for having lost than having the full force of such beauty directed at him. It had stuck in his head through the course of the day and made him want so much more from his estranged wife. Not only her body, but a
lso her kindness.
He wanted the encouragement she offered to Rabbie and the gentle affection she paid Cailean. His siblings adored Bridget for the woman she was, and yet his wife continued to hide all her better favors from him behind the armor of her open hostility.
Smile or no, it didn’t change that he’d lost.
If it hadn't been for the damn wind, he would have at least gotten an extra round, an extra chance. But then, her third arrow had been blown off by the wind as well.
It was not his missed shot which had cycled through his mind the remainder of the day - it had been that smile. Those full lips, so red, so lush, and her perfectly white teeth, and the way she'd looked at him - genuine and happy, and softer than he'd ever seen from her.
“Aidan,” Cailean's voice stopped him mid-step.
Guilt snagged at him. His sister had told him she wanted to speak with him that evening, but he'd gotten so tangled in accounts and details, her request had completely slipped from his mind.
She put a hand on his forearm. “I know, ye got busy. That's why I tracked ye down.”
He kissed her smooth brow. “I appreciate ye know yer busy brother so well.”
“Ye're just like Da.” She looked up at him with her wide green eyes. “Always working hard to ensure we have wealth and position. He'd be verra proud of ye for what ye've accomplished since his death.”
Aidan knew she was referring to the manor and land he’d been awarded. It swelled his heart with pride to hear her acknowledge what he'd done, especially at the sacrifice he'd paid in having to marry Bridget.
The mere thought of her sent a jolt through him.
“Thank ye.” He smoothed his hand over the top of her silky head. “Ye're a good lass.”
Her gaze slid to the left then back up to him. “Well, ye may no' think so after this conversation.”
He arched a brow.
“I want to join ye and yer men at practice.” She forced the words out quickly. “Like Bridget. I want to know how to fight.”
A frown tugged at his lips. “Nay, I canna allow another lass to join the men. Cailean, ye could be hurt.”
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