Page 11 of Forge of the Highlander’s Destiny

C ohen was curious about what Arya’s plans were.

Even though she was desperate to leave, and she’d mentioned it several times, they’d never actually had time to discuss what ideas had passed through her mind.

She was a laird’s daughter, and thus as a woman, had the difficulty of not being able to work at something for her own money.

She had no protection when she was to leave his castle, and she would be taking her younger sister along with her.

It was not exactly a sound plan, but he knew that it, of course, was made out of desperation. Arya, however, after being pinned by the direct question from his sister, looked pale, and he had that strange protective urge again to protect her.

“We are thinkin’ of it together, Sienna.

Since we both ken what it is like to live in Laird Muir’s dungeons, I thought it best that we consider her next plan together.

I mean, offer me assistance that is.” He knew that his explanation sounded odd, but when he looked at Arya again, she seemed somewhat relieved.

“Aye, I have a few ideas, but I thought it would be helpful to ask Laird Sinclair about them since he kens a bit more of the land around these parts and has traveled much farther than I.” She was smiling and attempting to appear confident, but he could see the blush in her cheeks.

“I see,” Sienna said, not really satisfied, her eyes searching, darting between them as if suspecting them of something.

Cohen had that feeling too, like they were guilty of something, or rather he was feeling guilty because of the way he’d started to feel like he wanted to keep Arya Donaldson safe from all harm.

“Perhaps she can be an assistant to a Laird, like meself,” Calvin offered kindly.

Sienna chuckled. “Aye, although lairds most often want a wife in the bargain as well. Except for me brother here.” She sighed and patted his arm. “Nae the marryin’ kind are ye? Nae woman good enough, so the rumors go.”

She shook her head at him and returned to her plate while Cohen felt frustrated that his personal feelings on the matter were being aired so publicly. He glanced at Arya who had turned to Calvin instead, and he wondered if she had even heard what his sister mentioned.

A small part of him hoped that she did not because for some reason, he didn’t want Arya to know how he felt about marriage or that the rumors had spread that no woman was good enough for him.

That wasn’t exactly true. There were plenty of women he thought were good enough and had enjoyed, but he had no desire to marry, just yet.

“Ye daenae ken what ye speak of, Sienna. I think it a good idea, Mr. Marshall. An assistant to a laird indeed.” He smiled, looking at Arya, but she seemed to wear a look of confusion instead of happiness.

He was utterly confused himself, and this dinner was going far worse than he’d wanted it to. Before, it was meant to be just him and Arya and now he had his family here, and they were making things damned difficult.

“Games,” he said suddenly, turning everyone’s eyes to him.

Even Thomas, who had been chewing furiously ever since they’d sat down looked at him.

He took a long slug of his wine and started cutting into his meat in an attempt to look casual.

“Aye, games. We should play games. After dinner. A game, rather.”

“A game,” Sienna mused. “Sounds delightful! Ye and I havenae played All Fours for ages. What say ye?” she clapped. “I ken that ye, Thomas, willnae want to play, but how about the rest of us? Arya, Calvin? What do ye think?”

Arya sighed. “I am afraid that I daenae ken that game. I daenae ken many games.”

“I shall teach ye,” Cohen said, far too loudly and hurriedly than he wished to. He looked to Sienna. “ We shall teach ye, of course. It’s a card game. Easy enough to learn. And it’s good to play with four.”

“I think it an excellent idea, Cohen. Arya? Calvin?”

“Aye, good to me,” Calvin said, biting into a potato.

“Aye,” Arya said a little nervously, taking another bite of her bread.

“Excellent,” Cohen said, nodding to himself, wondering how in the space of a day, he had lost all sense of feeling like strong, fearless laird, and instead felt like a young lad just learning to fight and getting pummeled.

He did his best not to say any other foolish things for the rest of the dinner, and all five of them moved to sit closer to one of the large hearths. Many comfortable chairs were circled around it as well as a round, dark wooden table.

“Faither said Maither loved games,” Sienna said proudly, but with a slight look of sadness in her eye. “He had this table built for her,” Sienna added, brushing a loving hand across it.

Cohen patted her arm, remembering. They’d lost their mother in childbirth with the third child, a son, who had died along with her. Their father had died years later, of a fever. “Aye, so he did say that. And she had given ye that same lust for competition, Sienna.”

Sienna rubbed her hands together, and her eyes flashed, making Cohen laugh.

“So I do. Come, Calvin, ye sit by me, and Arya will sit by Cohen. Arya, Cohen does make an excellent teacher of games. I am far too impatient, and I can think only of victory.” Sienna flopped down on one of the chairs, pulling it close to the table, and dutifully, Calvin sat next to her.

Thomas made his seat in a chair closer to the fire, his hand gripping his wine glass. In a matter of seconds, it seemed, he was snoring softly. It always gave Cohen the impression that a dog was in the house, snoozing contentedly by the fire.

“Here ye are, Lass,” he said, pulling a chair out for the hesitant Arya to sit down in. Her blue eyes stuck on him for a few seconds, and he felt his heart beating fast again, just as it had done in the library earlier.

Just the wine, Lad. Too much of it.

Grabbing the deck of cards he always kept nearby, he sat down as well and shuffled the deck, passing out cards to each person. He watched with a smirk as Sienna clutched her cards greedily into her hands, her eyes searching the cards, no doubt making connections far quicker than he would.

“Cohen and I used to play together. It is usually done in twos, but ye can play in four. It’s perfect. Better this way anyway.” Cohen could see her eyes flash at him meaningfully, and he narrowed his gaze, wondering what on earth she was getting at. His sister could really be infuriating.

Arya was staring at her cards with wide eyes, blinking and looking at them as if they weren’t really there, just a figment of her imagination. Cohen leaned close, and said, “I will help ye. The rules go something like this—”

As he spoke, he could feel himself unconsciously leaning closer, smelling that lovely soap on her again and wondering why on earth he had suggested games when it would make him be close to Arya for the rest of the evening.

And getting close to her was getting more and more dangerous.

Arya had honestly never played a game before.

Not a card game at least. Her father was not the type of parent to allow such frivolities.

Arya remembered playing with Olivia when they were younger, out in the forest, searching for hiding places from their father as well as imagining themselves as princesses from a foreign land.

All games she’d played were about finding a different life and getting away from the life that they currently had.

But this was a completely strange concept.

She had to lay cards down on a table to do battle against the other people sitting at that table.

She swallowed, and her heart fluttered nervously like it was sitting out in the cold.

She had just escaped her father’s violent clutches.

She was finally on the path to freedom, and the world was before her eyes.

There was no way in Hell she was going to let a simple card game defeat her and break her spirit.

She clutched the cards tightly in her hands ready to listen to instruction when she felt Cohen’s breath against her cheek.

The world went silent except for the sound of his voice as he started to speak, oh so close to her.

It was like he was a lover, whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

Why did he have to have a such a low, resonant voice which said things in such a way that it pulled at her insides?

Why did he have to look at her with his rain-soaked, field-colored eyes with eagerness, hope, and heat? Why, oh why, did he have to keep rescuing her from everything, making her feel both helpless and safe at the same time? Arya gritted her teeth, trying her best to focus.

He smelled of wine, whisky and smoke, and even the leather of the library. It was the manliest, most arousing scent she’d ever experienced, and it was getting to her now, plucking away at her last little chords of strength.

I will focus, and I will learn this card game.

“Ye must be the first to seven, Lass, that is the whole object.” Cohen’s voice brought her back to reality, to the fact that she needed to listen closely.

“Aye,” she said, keeping her eyes on her cards instead of on him and how close he was. “I see,” even though she didn’t really see at all. Her mind was growing rather hazy, in fact.

She could feel him smiling next to her, and she wished that he wouldn’t. It was to be her undoing if he continued. “I will choose the trump card, and it is jacks. So, that card defeats all others in the ‘trick’ as we call it. Come, lay your first card.”

One of his fingertips touched her hand, and she almost pulled away, fearful that his warm touch would make her melt into his arms.

Focus. Focus!