Page 70 of Taming the Highland Misfits

“When did I give you permission to use my first name?” he demanded.

“I have always called you by your given name,” Alex answered. “It has never been an issue between us before.”

“Well, it is now!” Aidan snapped. “You may call me ‘Sir’ from now on.”

Alex nodded but made no objection. Aidan was obviously suffering from a bad case of wounded pride, but far from being angry with him, Alex was amused. However, he realised that he would have to tread a little more carefully from now on, since Aidan was the Laird’s son and would make a formidable enemy.

Freya could not believe what she was hearing. She had always known Aidan was a bully, but this was ridiculous. Far from sounding like someone whom others would want to respect, he was behaving like a spoiled child.

Alex went on speaking. “May I finish what I was about to tell you, Sir?” he asked.

“Yes.” Aidan stood upright and raised his chin, but although he was tall, he was still two inches shorter than Alex. “You may, but make it quick.”

“You can’t cheat in battle,” Alex told him. “You must do what you have to do to defeat the enemy. That might include doing things you would never do in real life, like tripping someone up, putting your fingers in their eyes, or kicking them in their private parts. They are trying to kill you. You need to defend yourself and you have no need to worry about how he feels because he will not worry about you.”

Aidan nodded slowly, as if absorbing what Alex had said, but when he spoke again it was clear that he was still holding a grudge. “I am the Laird’s son, and I do not think I should be taking orders from you.”

His pompous tone irritated Alex deeply, but again he swallowed his anger and faced Aidan with a completely blank expression on his face. He was going to make sure that he was above reproach, and that the Laird’s son had no weapons he could use against him.

“I am following your father’s orders,” Alex pointed out. “He asked me to train you and I am doing the best I can, Sir. However, if you feel that any part of my instruction is improper or not adequate, then by all means ask the Laird to assign someone else.”

The answer was not what Aidan wanted to hear, since he had expected Alex to become angry and begin to argue with him, but he was disappointed. The ability to remain calm in the midst of a crisis was one he had always envied, since it was a skill he had never possessed.

Freya was furious, and her first instinct was to stride over to Aidan and give him a severe tongue-lashing. Despite the fact that she was almost three years younger than him, she had always been able to win any argument with him through logic and the sheer force of her personality. However, something made her stop. It would embarrass Aidan even more to have to climb down because of his sister’s interference, and she did not want Alex to have to bear the brunt of his anger later.

Consequently, she stood by and waited until they started another bout of wrestling. This time Alex stood back with his feet placed wide apart and his hands by his side. He was motionless, leaving the whole front of his body open to Aidan’s attack.

Freya held her breath. Surely Alex was courting disaster? He could not possibly win that bout, since he had presented himself as such an easy target. Then she reminded herself that he was an experienced fighter who had been beating off better men than Aidan for years; she would have to trust him.

Nevertheless, she began to chew her fingernails as the two men began to circle each other, each one looking for a weakness. She could remember fighting with Aidan when they were children, he had always had the advantage, being bigger, stronger, and older. However, when it was obvious that she was becoming a young woman all that had stopped, partly because it was no longer appropriate, but also because she had developed a much sharper weapon of her own: her withering wit and sarcasm.

The bout began when Aidan knocked Alex down and tried to leap onto him to pin him to the ground. However, Alex was too quick; he rolled sideways and sprang to his feet, then faced Aidan again and lowered his head before attempting a charge into his stomach.

It seemed that Aidan had been learning, though. He stepped to the side so that Alex shot past him and skidded to a halt a few feet further on. Alex grinned. “You’ve been listening,” he said approvingly.

However, his words had been a distraction as he whipped his arm sideways and dug his elbow into Aidan’s ribs. He doubled over, gasping for breath, and Alex rushed forward to grab his shoulders, push him over and pin him to the ground.

Aidan was not going to stand for that; he had been humiliated enough. As his back hit the flagstones, he reached into the side of one of his knee-high boots and whipped out a small knife. It was no bigger than a penknife, but Alex fell onto its upraised point as he sank down onto his enemy.

He yelled as a sharp, stinging pain assailed him, and instinctively put his hand onto the wound, which was beginning to bleed profusely.

“Whatever you have to do to defeat the enemy,” Aidan said smugly, looking down at Alex, who had collapsed onto the floor, his face screwed up in agony. His eyes were fixed on Alex, so he was quite unprepared for the hefty shove in the shoulder that Freya gave him as she rushed up to see to him.

“Get away from him!” she screamed. “He is not your enemy, you stupid lad! Get out of my way!” She knelt down beside Alex and inspected his wound quickly. She tore off a piece of cloth from her dress and rolled it into a pad which she pressed against it. It was quickly soaked in blood.

Aidan stood looking down at both of them, the enormity of what he had done beginning to sink in. What if Alex died? Freya would make sure he paid the price for killing him, that was for certain. “I am so sorry, Alex,” he said hastily. “I did not mean to?— ”

“Shut up, Aidan!” Freya yelled, glowering at him fiercely. “Whatever you meant to do, the damage is done, and I hope you are satisfied! Wait till Father hears about this. Alex is the best Captain he has ever had.” She bent over Alex, who was moaning piteously, and said softly, “We must get you to the healer. She can see how serious this is and treat it.”

Alex shook his head, grimacing. “It’s only a wee scratch,” he said irritably. “No need to worry her with it.”

“If it is ‘just a wee scratch’ as you say, then why is it bleeding so much?” Freya’s voice was trembling with anger and fear. “Come. You must see Mistress McColl. She is the only one who can deal with this.”

“It is only a flesh wound,” he said grumpily, “it will heal quickly. There is no need to bother the wise woman.”

“That is her job!” Freya pointed out. “What if it becomes infected?” She did not wait for an answer, but stood up and pulled her brother over to help her raise Alex to his feet.

“I am sorry,” Aidan said apologetically. “I did not mean to hurt you so badly.”