CHAPTER TEN
I n the space of a hairbreadth, their swords met in a loud, deafening clash, barely dodging the blow to his ear. Ruben twisted his sword around and lifted his foot to kick the man in his belly.
In the blink of an eye, he’d swiped the man’s sword from him and spun around with both blades in hand. Every muscle sinew was on show for her from his calves up through his thighs, and then from his waist up through his shoulders. She watched them ripple and glisten with sweat under the bright sun.
The men shouted. “He’s done!”
Ruben pivoted and lobbied the sword back to the man and the two shook hands. For once, his lips flickered into something resembling a smile and the two spoke—and then it vanished.
He does have the capacity to nae be frownin’ all the time…but he doesnae. Nae for me anyway.
Pivoting on his heel, Ruben looked over her and his brows lowered. There was no hostility in his gaze but for some reason, Paige felt unwelcome.
Disheartened and saddened, she turned away to leave and had barely moved three paces when a hand grabbed her arm—effectively spinning her around.
A heavy mass rammed into her back, and she crashed into the hard, packed ground.
All the breath left her lungs and she winced at the mass holding her down.
Heavens. He is heavy!
When she peeled her eyes opened, she found Ruben hovering over her. Inches away from his face, she realized his eyes were the deepest blue they looked as black as the midnight sky. His gaze was smoldering, something she never imagined seeing coming from him.
His eyes dropped to her lips and nervously she pulled her bottom lip in. Unexpected heat sizzled up her skin, making gooseflesh wash over whole body.
“What—” she sucked in a breath. “What are ye doin’?”
Ruben’s eyes sharpened as he pushed himself off and stepped away. She watched as he strode five paces away and plucked the shaft of an arrow out of the wood overhang.
“Savin’ yer life,” he said.
His eyes narrowed at it, then he pivoted and from the look in his eyes, he was trying to discern where the arrow had come from. Before he could call out, a man, clad head to toe in chain mail and armed with a broadsword, ran over, his face white with fear.
“Dornach,” Ruben said, “Explain yerself.”
He dropped to one knee, “I apologize me laird and lady. One of the squires-in-trainin’ lost control of his bow. I will reprimand him severely for the act.”
“Ye will dismiss him and send him home,” Ruben said as helped Paige to her feet. “I cannae have such careless acts among me men.”
She clutched her elbow that felt scraped and smarted under her ripped sleeve. As much as her skin felt bruised, she was frightened for the boy. “Must ye dismiss the boy, Ruben?”
His eyes were hard, “Mistakes like that get men killed.”
“Aye, I realize,” Paige dropped her tone go pleasing. “But he is still a lad. Isnae that what trainin’ is for? To nae make those mistakes? Surely ye made some at times when ye were younger. Please reconsider dismissin’ the lad.”
Ruben’s jaw worked and for a moment, Paige thought she had done more harm than good until Ruben turned to the captain.
“Put the boy on stable duty for a month. In the day he is muckin’ out the stalls, at night he is practicin’ with the targets under yer supervision until he can shoot the center blindfolded. I daenae care if his arms get weary, he will return to the troop a better archer.”
“Aye, me laird,” Dornach bowed. “I will tell him right away.”
“And Dornach, daenae make me regret this.” Ruben said.
“Ye will nae, me laird,” the captain replied. “I will make sure he does as ye say. Please excuse me.”
When he left, Ruben tightened his hold on her and ushered her—almost towed her—down to the clearing away from the training fields. She looked up to offer her thanks when he reprimanded her again.
“What are ye doin’ here? Ye could've been hurt, even maimed. What were ye thinkin’, just standin’ there in the middle of the strikin’ range?”
Paige flung her head up, outraged that he would give her such a set-down in a public place. As she drew a breath to reply, she cast a look behind her—he was right. The trajectory for the arrows from the young lads in training were right where she had stood.
She had walked, unwittingly, into danger like the foolish girl her father had raised, the girl she was trying to leave behind.
Swallowing her pride, she turned back. “I’m sorry. I hadnae realized.”
He pinned her with a hard look. “Ye’ll need to sharpen up quickly if ye dream of survivin’ here. Ye should return to yer room as it will only get more dangerous out here. I still daenae ken why ye were here at all.”
Her lip tightened, “Me maither and I decided to take a walk as she said I was too cloistered in me room. We had nae planned to see ye,” she said, keeping from wincing at the burn on her arm. “I need to see the healer.”
Ruben’s hand slid up her arm and he bowed her elbow to see the rip and the tiny drops of blood. She could see the disdain in his eyes. “It’s nothing but a scrape.”
“It still hurts,” she defended herself. “And me knee is scraped too.”
“I keep havin’ to remind meself that ye gentle-bred women are so soft,” he scoffed. “I’ll show ye the way,” Ruben said, then called one of the men to them. Curiously enough, it was the same man he had been sparring with before.
“Keep the men doing the drills we did earlier and if I am nae back by the last run, send the men in.” Ruben told the man.
“Aye, me laird,” the man bowed. “Me lady. Good to see ye again.”
When had he seen her before? Faintly, she remembered seeing him at the other end of the chapel where she and Ruben had wed. “I do remember ye,” she said. “Pardon me though, what is yer name again?”
“Galan Howe,” he replied. “I am his lairdship’s man-at-arms.”
“A man I trust with me back in any battle,” Ruben said. “If ye cannae find me at any time, find him. He will assist ye.”
“Thank ye,” Paige replied.
A smirk flittered over Galan’s face, “I’ll see ye at supper.”
“I’ll return before that,” Ruben said.
Once again, Galan’s eyes flittered between them, and drawled “Of course ye will.”
“I ken what ye’re hintin’ at,” Ruben said darkly. “Haud yer wheesht!”
As Galan chuckled, Ruben walked them away and to the castle.
He took her up two levels to a long hall at the very back of the keep.
Even from up there, she could already hear the crash of the waves below and the briny but brisk air.
The sea air almost hid the fresh, natural scent of herbs and lavender dangling from the roof’s timbers.
The hall was lined with neatly made cots fitted with grey sheets on one side, and on the other stood long tables with tools for the healers.
She noticed there were washing basins, jugs with liquid or scalded milk, cauldrons, mortars and pestles and many bone-carved spoons.
Oddly enough, not one healer was inside.
“Do ye ken where the herbs are?” she asked.
“There,” he nodded to a door at the end. “Some are dried, some are green. What do ye need?”
She gave him a list of plants and went to arrange a mortar and pestle. When he returned with the plants in hand, she plucked the leaves off and dumped them into the mortar.
After searching the jugs, she found a jug of water and used the pestle to crush the herbs. She then mixed them with water and drained the juice through a fine cloth into a cup.
She nodded to a small table that held fresh linens. “Hand me two strips please.”
As he cut a length off, she slathered both with the thick poultice and sat. Pulling her skirts up above the knee, she made sure to tuck the rest of her dress under her thighs.
“When did ye learn herbs?”
Paige looked up, “I dinnae learn in the way that healers do, as me faither forbade me to see such horrid things. But I would watch them from time to time, and eventually I picked up on some things along the way. What did yer man-at-arms mean by, of course ye will?” she asked.
He heard her question, but it took an awkward moment before he could answer.
Without her eyes narrowed in a glare, it was easier to see the fullness of her mouth and the soft curve of her cheeks.
The delicately shaped foot that she propped up on a stool, under the heavy fortress of her kirtle made his blood warm.
“Ye really are an innocent,” he said. Unwilling to shield her from the reality of married life—much like her mother and father had - he spoke in no uncertain terms. “He was hintin’ that we werenae off to the healers but to me bedroom.”
“Why would he think we’d be off to—” her tone showed her absent state of mind. But soon enough, she caught on and her cheeks flamed bright. “—Oh.”
“Aye,” he said, “ Oh .”
He watched her slim fingers trace gently over the broken skin before she cleansed it with water. Gingerly, she wrapped the poultice around her knee, and the flawless ivory of her skin shone bright against the blue wall of her dress.
She tightened the knot to the side of her leg then tended to her elbow in the same manner. “That is the one thing ye’ve nae deigned to tell me…” Paige kept her head down. “What have ye decided about that? As a matter of fact, ye were nae all that clear on what other duties I have.”
Cocking a boot onto the wall behind him, he said. “As ye well ken, this marriage was nae of me choosin’. Me hand was forced, and so was yers.”
“That goes without sayin’,” she muttered.
His tone sharpened. “Maybe when ye tame yer tongue and curb yer temper, we can get on well with mutual respect,” he snapped.
“I expect ye to manage the runnin’ of the keep and the household.
I will protect and provide for ye as me wife, ye will respect me in public and in front of me men, and I will do the same. ”
“That’s a bit hypocritical of ye, isnae it?” she dared him. “Back on the field ye told me off and insulted me to me face even though I am yer wife. Was that respect?”
He scowled. “It was an appropriate response! I will nae tolerate ye puttin’ yerself in danger.”
“I understand,” she said, biting her tongue, “But as for the terms the King made, a marriage must be consummated for him to accept it,” she stated at him with wide eyes. “We cannae bide his rules by just signin’ a piece of paper.”
“Are ye sayin’ ye want to be done with it?” Ruben asked, his left brow tucked into his hairline.
“Nay—I- I daenae ken,” she puffed out a breath. “I assume ye daenae have the same issue. Women probably trip over their own feet to fawn over ye.”
He shook his head. “Having women fawn all over me isnae somethin’ I encourage.”
She bit her lip and kept her head down, “And these women, the ones ye do favor? What—what are they like?”
“Ye daenae want to ken that, lass.” He shook his head.
Paige lifted hers, her expression still and somber. “I wouldnae ask if I dinnae want to ken.”