Page 49

“WHY IN THE Lord’s name do ye need a dirk?”

“Why not? It’s something I’ve always wanted.”

Sheena’s mouth thinned at Greer’s bold answer before she stabbed a needle into her current sewing project. “If ye had told me ye wished for such a thing, I could have taken ye into Ceann Locha. Ian Mackay is the most talented weaponsmith on the peninsula.”

Greer swallowed a sigh. “Brodie is also talented,” she pointed out. “He’s capable of fashioning more than just horseshoes and nails.” She inwardly smiled then, for she’d unwittingly repeated the response Brodie had given her a month earlier.

Sheena’s midnight-blue eyes turned flinty. “All the same, he’s a blacksmith .”

“Aye, but Greer’s right … he’s skilled,” Rose piped up. “I saw the new skewers he recently made for Cory and his lads … they’re beautiful.”

Sheena’s expression turned pained then, as if talking about her stepson was causing her head to ache. Observing her, Greer guessed it probably was. This was the first time during her stay Brodie had even been mentioned in her presence.

“Maybe I should ask Brodie to make Rose and me knives, as well … once he isn’t quite so busy,” Bonnie said then.

Greer glanced over at where her friend sat, opposite her mother-by-marriage, upon one of the high-backed chairs.

She was sorting through a basket of fabrics on her lap. “I could do with one for traveling.”

“Well, ye won’t be journeying anywhere for a while, Bonnie,” Sheena replied, her tone clipped. “Not in yer state.”

Bonnie shrugged. “Maybe not, but once the bairn is born, I will travel at Iver’s side once more.” The firmness in her voice impressed Greer. She was glad to see that, when necessary, her sweet-tempered friend put Sheena in her place.

“Aye, a dirk of my own would be wonderful,” Rose added, eyeing the leather scabbard placed across Greer’s knees, awe flickering across her face. “I must admit, I’m a little envious.”

Sheena snorted, yet Rose ignored her. Meeting Greer’s eye, she smiled.

There was a knowing glint to Rose’s gaze now, hinting that perhaps she understood how taken their visitor was with Brodie.

“That’s kind of Brodie … but a fine weapon is no use if ye don’t know how to use it.

Ye need to find someone to give ye lessons. ”

“Listen to ye all,” Sheena muttered, shoving aside her sewing and rising, a trifle stiffly, to her feet. “Blathering on about nonsense. The use of weapons is the domain of men. We have other matters to keep us occupied.”

“A woman shouldn’t be helpless, Sheena,” Greer pointed out.

Aye, she’d wanted a dirk primarily because she’d always coveted her brothers’—and because it would remind her of this wonderful summer.

However, there were practical reasons to consider as well.

“It was a long journey from Druminnor across wild lands. What if we were attacked by brigands?”

“That’s what yer escort is for.”

“And if they were overcome?”

“Then ye would be dead anyway.” Sheena swept past her companions, striding toward the door. “Whether or not ye knew how to use a dirk.”

Sheena left the ladies’ solar then, the door thudding shut behind her.

An awkward silence settled in her wake.

Eventually, Greer broke it. “Sorry,” she murmured, her gaze lingering upon the door. “I appear to have vexed yer mother-by-marriage this afternoon.”

Rose huffed a laugh. “I’m surprised it’s taken ye this long to irritate her … she’s far less patient with the rest of us.”

“Pay Sheena no mind,” Bonnie added, her mouth curving into an apologetic smile. “Mention of Brodie always sours her mood.”

“But we never speak of him,” Greer pointed out.

“Aye … and now ye see why.”

Putting down the little mittens she’d been painstakingly sewing, Greer frowned. “Surely, Sheena doesn’t resent him … not after so many years?”

“Ye’d think not … but it seems otherwise,” Rose replied, shrugging. “However, ye must remember that Bonnie and I are newcomers to this family. None of us grew up with the brothers.”

“But Iver and Kerr must’ve spoken to ye of their youngest brother?”

“Aye,” Bonnie assured her. “Many times … but a shadow always crosses Iver’s face whenever I ask him about Sheena and Brodie.”

“Kerr is the same,” Rose replied. “He wishes things were otherwise, yet he says there’s deep-seated resentment on both sides. Neither party is willing to forgive the past.”

Greer stepped outside into the barmkin and immediately drew her woolen shawl tight about her shoulders.

Her breath steamed in front of her now. After a period of fine weather, an unseasonal cold snap had arrived.

She enjoyed sewing with the others, but it was sometimes nice to get out for a stroll and reflect on the day, before supper.

Inghinn would be expecting her upstairs shortly, to ready her to join the others in the hall, yet Greer wouldn’t hurry. It had been a busy, exciting day, and she’d boldly strapped on her new dirk before taking a stroll. Indeed, it felt daring to stride around with it on display like this.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Movement at the far end of the barmkin caught her eye. Turning right, she walked toward it. Moments later, she spied Brodie.

He had his back to her and was throwing knives at where a bullseye target hung from a pole.

One by one they embedded, and when the final knife hit dead-center, Greer grinned, thrilled by the sight.

How she wished she’d been taught how to throw knives.

Both her brothers were skilled, yet they’d been practicing since childhood.

“Well done!”

Brodie glanced over his shoulder, his gaze narrowing. “How long have ye been watching?”

“Just now,” she assured him, her grin fading to a nervous smile.

“Everyone else is resting before supper,” he replied. “Why aren’t ye?”

Despite that Greer was now wary around this man, she took a step closer. “I always get restless this time of day. Too many hours sitting with a needle and thread makes me feel caged.” She inclined her head. “Ye aren’t resting either, I see.”

He shrugged, turning away, and approaching the target. He then pulled the blades free and slid them into the belt at his waist. “I haven’t had a moment to myself all day,” he answered. “Throwing knives relaxes me.”

“I’m surprised some of the other men haven’t joined ye for a contest.”

“They do … often.” He looked over his shoulder once more, his mouth quirking. “Ye should see Kerr … he can throw blades like a Saracen.”

Their gazes held an instant, and Greer’s pulse accelerated.

She glanced around her, making sure they weren’t overheard.

Luckily, the barmkin was quiet at this hour; they were alone.

All the same, as she moved nearer still, she lowered her voice.

“I know ye are busy, Brodie … but would ye teach me how to use the dirk ye made me?”

He snorted. “Women don’t need to know how to wield weapons.”

She raised her chin, meeting his eye boldly this time. “This one does.” She patted the sheathed dirk at her hip. “The dirk is not just for show … but for protection … and it’s no good to me unless I know how to defend myself with it.”

Their gazes held for a long moment. Finally, Brodie slowly shook his head. “Christ’s teeth, lass,” he muttered. “Ye have some nerve.”

Greer’s mouth curved. “I shall take that as a compliment.” She paused then. “Does that mean ye shall instruct me?”

She still got flutters in her belly whenever she stood near him. The blacksmith made her feel unusually self-conscious. However, his proximity also made every sense sharpen.

Brodie broke eye contact with her and took a step back. He then raked a hand through his short, curly hair and muttered, “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this … follow me.”

“Where?” Greer asked, excitement fluttering up. She couldn’t believe it; despite his grumbling, Brodie was indulging her.

“Indoors,” he replied, turning, and striding away. “I’m not giving ye a lesson out here under the eyes of all.”

Grinning, Greer hurried after him, following the blacksmith across the barmkin and into his forge.

He’d finished work for the day, although the space was cluttered with all the items he was currently working on: stacks of half-finished helmets and buckets of arrow-and-spearheads.

It was still warm though, for the last of the embers glowed in the nearby hearth.

As she entered the forge, Brodie turned to face her. “Right,” he said briskly. “Show me how ye draw the dirk.”

Greer nodded. Halting, she reached across where the dirk hung at her left hip and gripped the bone hilt of the blade, yanking it awkwardly free of its scabbard.

Brodie made a hissing sound between his teeth.

Greer’s smile faded. “Was it that bad?”

“Aye … that was careless and clumsy … ye risk cutting yerself.”

Her brow furrowed, yet she nodded. She was here to learn, after all.

“Resheathe the blade … carefully,” he instructed.

Greer did as bid.

“Right,” he grunted. “Place yer left hand on the sheath and draw the dirk slowly … and keep the tip facing away from yer torso this time.”

Greer did as bid and was rewarded with a brisk nod. “Better.” Brodie folded his arms across his broad chest, eyeing her speculatively. “Very well … imagine I’m an outlaw ye have just met on the road. Show me yer fighting stance.”

She moved into what she thought was an aggressive position, holding the dirk out in front of her, the tip pointed toward him.

Brodie shook his head, his brows drawing together.

“That’s no good.” Letting his arms fall to his sides, he moved forward, shifting to stand side-on.

“For one thing, yer grip is all wrong.” He gently nudged the side of her hand with his knuckles.

“All it would take is one deft knock … and the dirk would fly out of yer grip. Yer hand is small, so ye should use the ‘hammer grip’.”

Greer’s breathing stilled as his warm fingers slid over hers, adjusting her hold on the bone handle. It was difficult to concentrate. All she could focus on was the heat of his skin and the strength of his fingers as they manipulated her hand.

“Hold it as ye would a hammer,” Brodie went on, seemingly unaffected by touching her.

Wrapping his fingers around her wrist, he lowered it so that the knife was level with her hip.

“Ye must keep the blade lower. This grip will give ye good range for hacking, thrusting, and blocking … but only if ye stab from this direction.”

Greer swallowed. Hacking, thrusting, and blocking. Christ’s bones, did the man think she was planning to wade into battle?

“I suppose I should learn how to defend myself first … rather than attack,” she replied, wishing her pulse would steady. Surely, he’d feel it fluttering in her wrist.

Nonetheless, his gaze remained steady, his expression serious. He was too focused on teaching her to let himself be distracted, and she was grateful for that.

“Very well then. Let’s focus on that,” he replied, releasing her wrist. “Now … widen yer legs a little, and bend yer knees.” He waited until she’d complied before nodding. “Keep yer knife arm bent at all times … and always keep yer body behind the blade.”

“I will,” Greer murmured. She was starting to sweat as the reality of what Brodie was about to teach her sank in.

Watching her brothers spar from a distance was one thing, actually being the one to fight was another.

Maybe Sheena had the right of it—perhaps she should leave such skills to men.

All the same, it was too late to back out.

She’d asked for a lesson, and she wouldn’t embarrass herself.

“The next thing to remember when faced with an aggressor is to keep moving,” Brodie said then. He shifted so that he was facing her again and demonstrated, holding his right hand as if he gripped a dirk and moving on the balls of his feet—left, right, forward, and back.

Greer’s mouth curved. “It looks as if ye are dancing,” she observed.

Brodie lifted an eyebrow. “I am … although this dance is a deadly one.”

His comments were sobering. Aye, she wasn’t sure she’d be any good if a brute attacked her with a dirk.

As if reading her thoughts, Brodie favored her with a thin smile. “Whenever possible, avoid a fight, lass. Better to run … but if ye can’t, ye are going to have to ward off an attack. Let’s see how ye react.” He picked up a piece of wood from the bench next to him and thrust at her with it.

Greer squealed and jumped back.

Brodie snorted. “At least ye move fast.”

Inwardly chastising herself for making such an undignified sound, Greer managed a tight, answering smile. She was just glad her brothers , Norris and Kendrick, weren’t here to witness her efforts. They’d rib her mercilessly. “That’s a start then?”

He huffed a laugh. “Aye.”