Page 8 of Highlander Redeemed (Guardians of the Targe #3)

“You are enjoying torturing me all too much,” she said, then she took off, sprinting for the first downed tree.

She scrambled up onto it, not as gracefully as the first four times she’d done this, but she got there.

She ran down the length of the trunk, leapt off it, easily missing the wide mud puddle that was in her way.

She dodged under the branch of another downed tree, swung up onto its trunk, drew her stick sword from a loop of rope at her waist, and danced through the intricate steps of one of the exercises he’d taught her just yesterday, resheathed her stick sword, and hurtled through another five obstacles and tasks he’d set up.

Skidding to a stop just in front of him, she bent over at the waist, bracing herself with her hands upon her thighs, her sides heaving.

“You are a beast,” she said without looking up at him, but there was no heat to her words. She sat back, hard, her breath whooshing out with a very unladylike grunt.

“And you are getting stronger and faster every day. I do not think there is a lad in the clan who could manage that as fast.” He was not flattering her, just telling her the truth. She was remarkable at these physical tests of endurance and agility.

She peered up at him. All of her hair had escaped her braid now and it cascaded around her narrow face in sheets of ebony, accentuating her icy green eyes. The doubt in her eyes bothered him .

“’Tis the truth, Scotia.” He reached out a hand to help her up, and was a little surprised when she took it.

He pulled her up, and for no reason he could think of he did not immediately release her hand, enjoying the heat of it against his and the feel of the calluses beginning to form on her soft skin.

She met his gaze and for a moment he saw confusion, then a glint of irritation as she pulled her hand out of his and stepped back, putting a little distance between them. “I told you not to treat me like a lass. Do you help the lads up when they are tired?”

“Sometimes, aye, but I will not help you again, unless you ask it of me.” He was irritated by her reaction for some reason, though he knew ’twas nothing out of the usual for Scotia.

“We are done for the day. Tomorrow we shall spar and see if you can take the exercises you have learned and turn them to use.”

Her eyes lit. “Finally.” He shook his head at the intensity of that one word.

“It has only been five days since we began. I did not think you would be prepared so soon, but you have worked hard. In truth, I did not think you would.” He picked up a waterskin and handed it to her. “You have surprised me, Scotia.”

“Then you seriously underestimated my determination to kill my enemies.”

He nodded, the irritation disappearing as he once more saw her in a new light.

“I did. You are not the same girl you were before the English took you. In an odd way, they have given you a purpose, a focus that you have never had before. I like it.”

She took another long draw from the waterskin. When she lowered it she met his gaze. “I like it, too.” She quirked an eyebrow at him, a teasing gesture he remembered well but had not seen in many years. “But that does not mean I like you or this arrangement any better.”

He could not help but grin at her, glad that somehow her newfound passion for fighting had also resurrected the teasing lass he’d known when she was a child. “I would not expect you to.” Though he suspected she did.

He certainly enjoyed his time with her, far more than he would have thought possible. Here in the wood she was a fierce warrior, sure of herself, capable, with her eyes fixed on her goal. Inevitably, when they returned to the cave site, she would revert to the sullen, angry lass she’d been of late.

“When are you going to let the rest of the clan know who you are becoming?” he asked.

“Not until I can kick their arses when they treat me like a child.”

“If you stopped acting like a child around them, you would not need to kick anyone’s arse.” He knew he should have kept his mouth shut even as the words spilled out of it.

She handed him the waterskin, her eyes gone hard and her pink lips tightened over what he knew were clenched teeth.

“You have worked me so hard I cannot go back to the caves like this lest someone ask me why I am such a mess. I am going to the lochan to wash up, and you have my word I shall return directly to camp. You may not follow me.” She wagged her finger at him. “Do you understand?”

“You ken I cannot leave you alone away from the caves, aye? I will give you privacy, but I will await you near the lochan—” She started to interrupt, but he kept going. “I promise to keep my distance so you can bathe in private.”

“I will not—”

“’Tis the only deal I can make, Scotia. You have done an admirable job in gaining my trust, though my trust is not unshakeable yet.

The rest of the clan, though? They do not trust you at all, which is why I was tasked to keep an eye on you in the first place.

I will not break my word to the Guardians.

’Twould be a terribly unwarriorlike thing to do, and it would shame me greatly.

Would you break your word to me: me with you at all times in exchange for training you to be a warrior? ”

He knew how to get her attention when he had to .

“I—”

He looked at her, his own eyebrows raised in question as he watched her start to argue, then stop herself one, two, three times.

“I do not have a say in this, do I?” she finally said.

“Nay, lass, you do not.” He looped the waterskin over his shoulder and picked up a small sack that held their midday meal. “Let us put your weapons away ... unless you’d like to run the obstacles again?”

She scowled at him and turned to make her way back to her cache. He smiled as he followed her. ’Twas good to see Scotia finally growing up, but ’twas also good to see she hadn’t lost the spark of the troublesome lass she’d been.

S COTIA ’ S HEART WAS beating hard and fast as she laid her targe, dagger, and the stick that had become her practice sword inside a hollow tree.

She kept her back to Duncan as she strode off toward the lochan she had shown him a few days ago.

She dared not look at him lest he see how he had unsettled her.

She had put her hand in his without thinking.

Shivers ran over her skin again, just at the brief memory of the touch of his strong hand clasped in hers.

There should have been nothing unusual in his gesture.

Despite what she had said, she’d seen him help up lads and grown men alike in the training yard, but something about it was different.

There was no teasing of besting and beating an opponent as she often saw amongst the warriors as they trained. A sudden, inexplicable tightness in her chest and an inability to look away from him had caught her off guard.

She had always taken Duncan for granted. He was simply always there with his dark hair, and deep brown scowling eyes. At least they were scowling whenever he looked at her these last few years, as if she were a great disappointment to him.

But today there had been something different. He had touched her, held her hand in his. His eyes had been soft, happy, smiling even, and she could swear she saw pride, too. He had transformed right before her eyes, as if she had never seen him before.

When had he gone from the gangly lad she had trailed around after when she was small to the handsome, assured man he was now? How had she not noticed?

And now that she had noticed, did that change anything? Did it change her feelings about him? Did it change her training?

Nay. It changed nothing. Her training was the most important thing. If she lost her focus on that, she would not be prepared for battle when the time came, and she knew that time was coming quickly.

Nothing would change between them. He had said he liked her new purpose, her focus, her passion for her training, as did she. She would stay firmly fixed on that.

Nothing would change.

D UNCAN KEPT HIS word, settling in at the base of an oak tree.

He was close enough to the lochan to hear the splash of the small waterfall as it tumbled over the stony face of the ben, but he could not hear Scotia.

Part of him wished to make sure she was still there, but she had given her word that she would bathe and then join him, and he had to admit that he found both her word, and the lass herself, surprisingly trustworthy over the last few days.

He smiled, pleased with his plan and with himself.

He had tamed the headstrong lass. Well, he had worn her out at least.

Perhaps they had all had it wrong when it came to Scotia. The lass seemed to need a purpose, and the more physically taxing the purpose, the better. If she had been a lad they would have seen that, but ’twas not the normal way of a lassie.

Of course, Scotia was not a normal lass, so he really should not be surprised. Willful, stubborn, angry more often than not did not hold up well against the gentle, quiet intelligence of Jeanette, or against the cheery good nature and industriousness of Rowan.

Scotia had always gotten herself in trouble, and it was only now that he could see ’twas because she needed activity in order to stave off boredom.

He chuckled. He’d certainly found the answer to that in the last few days.

A whisper of a thought of other ways to keep a lass physically active had him leaping to his feet and pacing away from the lochan as if he could leave it behind.

But he couldn’t.

His whole idea of who Scotia was had changed in the last few days. She wasn’t a child anymore, at least not when she was with him, but she was still Scotia, and he was still in charge of her. He’d always known she was a beauty—the dark hair and green eyes had marked her as one from birth.

But he’d thought himself immune from the effect she had on lads ... until today. He had not been able to keep himself from holding her hand, from enjoying the warmth of her skin against his. The tenderness that had drifted over him had been as much a surprise to him as it appeared to be to her.

He was not daft enough to think she hadn’t seen it. Her retreat back into her prickly self had been evidence that the moment had made her uncomfortable.

He needed to remember his task, for if he spooked her with an errant soft feeling he’d never keep her trust. He would not let it happen again.

He paced back toward the lochan, then away, forbidding himself to think of what she was doing in that icy water.

As he paced back a shout came from her, and he sprinted through the trees only to find her pulling on her kirtle as he arrived, water droplets still sparkling in the sunlight on her thighs.

He turned his back quickly, his heart thrumming in his ears at the sight of her milky skin.

“What is it?” His words were harsher than he’d intended, but the lass tested him sorely.

“We are needed back at the caves.” She drew up close to him then, fully clothed and braiding her wet hair.

“The caves?”

“Aye. I cannot say why, but I am sure of it.” She hurried back the way they’d come, heading to the caves. “Come on, ye sluggard!”

The familiar teasing tone in her voice was a welcome clue that she had let the awkward moment pass far more easily than he had. He hurried after her, curious to find out if her instinct was right.