Highland Escape (27 page)

Duncan took her hand. “Grief has an odd way of raising its head when we least expect it. We will devote a room to a new library. In the meantime, we can make a lark of collecting books and maps when we travel. Ye can tell me about these places and show them to me. Tonight, ye can read to me one of these adventurous tales.”

She kissed him again, soft as goose down, but lingered, lightly running her tongue along his bottom lip. When she rose, her smile returned and she handed him a package, a twinkle in her eye.

“What is this?” Duncan asked, shaking the package next to his ear, listening for clues.

“’Tis a gift from one of your sweethearts, I believe,” she replied mischievously.

Duncan frowned. “I only have one sweetheart.”

He unwrapped the rough material and binding. When he saw the tooled belt and sporran, his eyes widened with surprise. He fingered the MacGregor crest etched in the decorative silver and lifted his gaze to hers.

“Anna, how did ye get this made?”

“Do you like it?” Giddiness lightened her heart to have found a gift he obviously liked.

“How can I not like it? How did ye get this carved so quickly? We werenae there long enough to have this done.” His eyes rounded with wonder.

“I paid extra and left my
sgian dubh
to carve the crest from. Iain fetched it for me the morning we left.”

Anna gave him a brief hug, then settled in the chair next to the bed to discuss her plans for training the men. He had very little input and seemed indifferent about the whole topic. She accounted for his lack of interest to the fact he was in pain and still tired. Seeing the way his eyes hardened and narrowed, she gave him a quick kiss and set about tidying the room, leaving him to drift back to sleep. But she could not dismiss the feeling something bright had gone out of her day.

Chapter 21

Morning came all too quickly. Anna battled her unsteady confidence during the long walk to the training grounds. She carried Trean, his legs too short to keep up with her determined stride. Tavish met her on the way and introduced himself.

“How many are against my being here?”

“It seems to be divided between men who are eager to test what ye know and those who look forward to seeing ye scurry back to the keep.” His hard expression gave away nothing.

“And which group do you find yourself in?”

“I have seen ye fight before, but will withhold judgment until I see how ye do with men I know to be good fighters.”

Nodding her understanding, Anna allowed him to lead to where the others gathered, placing Trean on the ground at her feet. Iain and Malcolm approached and offered polite greetings. Trean eyed them cautiously, but ventured a small wag of his tail in recognition before wandering off to the shade of a nearby tree. Tavish gestured for the men’s attention.

“The laird has assigned a new instructor for the morning sessions until further notice. Ye will give yer full attention and respect.”

A severe glare from Tavish halted the snickers and hard looks. Ignoring the belittling response, Anna asked to see a demonstration of their hand-to-hand combat techniques. Two volunteers came forward, and at Tavish’s command, pummeled each other in a haphazard manner, eventually falling to the ground, rolling around like pigs in mud. Trean
left the limb he’d been worrying to stand next to Anna, an eye on the commotion. Seemingly unimpressed, Trean let out a huff, nosed Anna and walked back to his piece of deadwood to resume chewing.

After watching the combatants and the reactions of the others standing, Anna realized their weaponless training was severely lacking. Of the twenty-five men who made up the laird’s special guard, she asked Duff—the biggest man she had ever seen—to join her.

“What do you think of when you attack someone?” She gazed up at the giant.

“I hit ’im as I run ’im over”. He smashed a fist into his open hand, his eyes narrowed, lips curling into a snarl. As expected, his approach was as subtle as an enraged bull.

“Duff, would you please punch me?”

His features pinched as if he tasted something foul. Anna bit back her laughter.

“You are not going to hurt me.” He gave her a half-effort punch. She cocked her head, hands on her hips. “I picked you because I thought you were the biggest, meanest Highlander here. Was I wrong?”

Her gentle taunt elicited chuckles from the men and Duff’s face reddened. With new resolution, he threw a hard punch with his right hand. Though powerful enough to end her if he connected, his fist approached so slowly it seemed she had to wait for it. Everything about his motion gave away his intention. From the way he drew back to gather power, to the over-extension of his strike, leaving him off-balance, his was an all-or-nothing approach.

Stepping to the opposite side of his punch, she deflected his strike and grasped his wrist with one hand. Without pause, she curled her other hand around the back of his head. She pivoted in a small circle, pulling both his wrist and head down and toward her, launching Duff into a flip, landing him on his back with a thud. He hopped up, eyes as big as horses’ hooves. Murmurs from the men rose noticeably.

“Again, Duff, if you please.” She smiled in invitation.

He threw the same slow but hard right-hand punch. This time, she stepped toward it, deflecting his punch outward as she did. Her movement placed them side-by-side, though facing opposite directions. Anna’s right hip touched his left hip, as if they were dancing. Holding his right arm, she gripped the front of his tunic, pulling him toward her, disrupting his balance.

With a strong, fluid motion, she kicked her right leg backward into the back of his left leg, calf-to-calf, sweeping it from underneath him. Again, he landed with a thud. This time, Anna held onto his right hand. Grasping it at the wrist, she twisted it outward, painfully locking both his wrist and elbow in the process, leaving him unable to move without causing himself pain. Glancing around, Anna saw big grins from both Iain and Malcolm. They had seen her use this same wristlock on the Graham barbarian, Angus.

Assisting Duff to his feet, she offered an explanation of off-balancing an opponent, the use of angles, and how to harness the strength of their attacker to use against him. She asked for four volunteers, and they positioned themselves all around her. She directed them to attack, taking turns grabbing her however they wished, from all directions. Anna met each attack with a sweep or throw, sometimes throwing them into her next attacker.

After a couple of rounds, Anna asked them to attack faster and harder, and they hit the ground in direct proportion to the speed and strength they employed. She executed throw after throw with no conscious thought, merely taking what they gave, the exercise creating euphoria within her. How she missed this training! Testing her skills against others more powerful than she remained an essential part of her.

Her simple demonstration captured everyone’s attention. She noted each man looked at her differently, with the exception of Iain and Malcolm, whose smug smiles spoke of being proven correct amongst a crowd of skeptics. Two men grudgingly handed over several coins to Malcolm. Anna shook her head.

Men
.

Starting the men on simple drills gave them an introduction to the concepts she taught. Calling for a brief water break, Anna noticed the laird had arrived and stood speaking to Tavish. When he motioned for her to approach, her nervousness returned.

“My laird.” Anna offered a brief bow.

“’Twas a good strategy to choose Duff,” he said, a smile on his face.

Ah, he saw it all, then
. “I find the biggest are usually the easiest to handle owing to over-confidence. Particularly when facing someone much smaller.”

She returned to the group and they switched to swords. Using the same principles of angles and off-balancing, she applied them to armed combat. Anna ran the men through a series of drills, each choosing an angle of attack, rather than merely moving straight forward. Quicker than she thought possible, midday arrived.

“Thank you for tolerating a woman instructor, gentlemen.”

Her words inspired laughter from the group of pride-battered men. They broke for the morning and headed to the main hall to eat, Anna in their midst, Trean on her heels. She felt their acceptance, a subtle shift, which reminded her of being around her old clansmen. She wasn’t sure how much of the demonstrated respect to attribute to her relationship to Duncan, the laird, or the session they’d completed, but it warmed her nonetheless.

The men invited her to sit with them, which led to discussions of tactics on the battlefield. Trean
settled at her feet, gazing expectantly at her for scraps. She smiled and scratched behind his ears while he ate a chunk of venison from the stew.

Once the meal concluded, the men returned to training while she tucked Trean into his box for a nap. She then met with Nessa to address the healing cases Nessa tended the sennight she was away. Anna longed to accompany the men back to the field, but people needed her care. Rory had recovered enough so Liam escorted him carefully home, leaving the room free once again. Anna was pleasantly surprised to see the injuries Nessa treated in her absence. As she suspected, the lass possessed a true gift for healing.

“These stitches are clean and even. His wound looks very good. Excellent work.” Anna offered her encouragement after examining a boy who had fallen against a scythe a few days past.

Nessa’s confidence seemed to soar at Anna’s praise, and her enthusiasm increased when Anna told her of the new medical book Duncan bought. They agreed to spend time each evening reading through it together.

Within a fortnight, Duncan was healed enough to walk around, though he moved gingerly. Anna wanted him to stay away from his duties at the training fields a bit longer, though she knew he was anxious to resume his routine. After their first week back, his wounds had healed enough that no more pretense existed to justify her staying in his room at night.

* * *

Duncan stood in the shade of a large oak overlooking the training grounds, legs spread wide, hands on the pommel of the sheathed claymore in front of him. He chose a stance meant to display strength, but in truth it was the only position he could hold for any length of time without falling over. His leg had healed much, but the pain remained, his muscles stiff and weak. He could not sit idle any longer. Not when the clan needed him. Not when he thought he might go mad if he stayed inside another day. And not when men surrounded Anna each morning.

It mattered little he had handpicked these men for their skill and loyalty. Duncan could not bear the thought of
his
woman out here without him present. The powerful emotion of the word
mine
echoed through his entire body, as it did each time he thought of her. He knew better than to voice his possessiveness for fear of angering her. But he would be damned if he allowed her to work with others without him overseeing her safety, and to ensure no one behaved unseemly around her.

His suspicions proved correct. The men followed her about like lovesick puppies, hanging on her every word. She, of course, remained completely unaware of her effect on them.
Damned English beat down her sense of worth because she chose not to wear skirts?
They were as daft as they were blind. In the Highlands, a man or woman showed their merit by their deeds, not their appearance. His men recognized her value and held her in high regard, but part of him didn’t like it one damned bit. He wanted to be the only one who perceived her as a treasure.

He stewed, gritting his teeth, clenching the sword in his hands so tightly he lost feeling in them. The urge to pummel every man in the yard grew stronger and stronger as he watched her placing their hands and bodies in proper position, moving from pair to pair, correcting their form. She stole glances at him from time to time, gifting him with a smile warm enough to melt the winter snows. Duncan tried to smile in return, but found his face frozen in vexation.

His temper barely remained under control when he heard her announce a new game she’d devised. Every man would take the opportunity to attack each other at will.

“The rules are thus. You must be outside with no women or children close at hand. You can only use the techniques I have taught. Since I do not wish to spend my afternoons repairing damage caused by inflated pride, you must yield before injury.”

Duff raised his hand. Anna gave him her attention. “Yes, Duff?”

“Are ye includin’ yerself in the game, milady?” More than a few men chuckled at his question.

Anna smiled broadly. “Indeed I am.” The chuckles grew louder.

Shaking with anger, it was all Duncan could do not to storm the group and snatch her away. He had to leave before he did something he’d regret. The jealousy raging through his body would do nothing but push her away. He needed to douse it before he approached her.

He walked back to the keep and grabbed a basket he’d requested for a picnic lunch, since they’d spent little time together the past several days. Simply having her near filled his soul in a way that made him realize how barren he’d been inside. The joy, passion and love she stirred continued to overwhelm him. Duncan knew he watched the other half of his soul. Now he’d found her, he could take no chance of losing her, for fear of losing the rest of himself as well.

He gathered their saddled horses, and Duncan’s mind eased as he thought ahead to the afternoon. He missed their time together, the one time they went further than kissing still burned upon his mind. He’d told her it was his turn next, and today he intended to repay the debt. His frown slowly tilted upward as he thought about the seduction he planned.