The Warrior Trainer (11 page)

   She felt Ian's gaze upon her and resisted the impulse to look at him, even though she longed to see what she might be able to read there. Did he think she had failed in her duty to the people of her household? Or was he earnest in his desire to help her?

   Help her. What an unusual notion. And yet, she could not deny her relief at the idea.

   "By your silence I take it you do not approve," he said.

"Nay," she replied. "I would welcome your help in this one area."

   "Agreed." She could almost hear the smile in that single word.

   They sat in silence, sharing ale as two companions might after a day of battle. Even though they were not comrades in arms and the battle in the garden had been against his own kin, Ian's presence was welcome—even comforting if she were honest. How little time she'd had in her life for friendship.

   Scotia startled at the thought. Was that what she felt when he was near? Feelings shared between friends? She turned toward him in an effort to read his emotions, but his face was wrapped in a veil of moonlight and shadow. His presence at Glencarron Castle had changed so many things. She had been on the verge of giving up when he had arrived. Now, she could honestly say she felt renewed. Scotia bit down on her lip. It was the closest thing to happiness she had experienced in a long while, despite the night's events.

   He shifted beside her, and for a moment she tensed, fearing he would leave. Not wanting him to slip away into the darkness, she tried to think of something to say, anything to keep him by her side until the ale settled her nerves and she could face what remained of the night.

   When no words came to her, she turned her gaze to the sky. A thousand stars glittered in the cloudless expanse, stretching across Scotland like a banner of serenity. If only that falsehood were so. Scotia leaned back and let her head rest on the stair behind her. To her surprise, Ian did the same.

   "What are you looking at?" His voice was calm, soothing.

   She relaxed against the wood riser. "I was wondering which star to wish upon this night."

   He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Forgive me, but you do not seem the type to wish upon a star. Or the kind of female who engages in wishes or fantasy."

   She bristled at his words. "Do you find me so rigid that you think there is no room in my heart for wishes?"

   He turned toward her. Only fragments of his features were clear to her in the silver moonlight. "I meant no offense. I thought you would never allow yourself to become distracted by fanciful things."

   "I am not distracted," she retorted despite the fact his words were partial truth. The stars paled in comparison to her preoccupation with him. Never in her life had she experienced such difficulty remaining disciplined and focused as she did when he drew near. She returned her attention to the stars. "Do you want to quibble or choose a star?"

   "Hmm," he mused. She could hear a touch of amusement in his voice. "Sparring with you does hold an appeal, there is no denying that. But until I master your fighting techniques, it would be safer to play with the stars."

   "You will never best me." She kept her voice light despite the sudden heaviness that settled in her chest.

   "An intriguing challenge. There is no doubt about that."

   She let silence fall between them. No one had ever bested her. No one ever could unless she allowed it. As Trainer, she controlled how much she taught him, and how much she held back. If she taught him everything, would he one day use it against her? She had never considered that possibility before. There was always a chance that the student's abilities would surpass the master's.

   She and Ian had weeks of practice ahead of them before he reached that level of proficiency. In an effort to hide the tension that suddenly gripped her at the thought of Ian besting her, Scotia smoothed her fingers across the tops of her leather-clad thighs. Her mother had never prepared her for that eventuality.

   She forced her hands to still. Now was not the time to worry about such things. When Ian's abilities neared her own, she would consider what to do. Until then, she did not need to borrow trouble. But perhaps, just to make certain, one wish on a star would not hurt. Scanning the heavens, she found a star far off from the rest, bright and steady, that appealed to her. She closed her eyes, and—

   "What did you wish for?" he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

   "I cannot tell you that." She did not bother to disguise her annoyance at the interruption. After all, she had been about to send out a perfectly good wish for strength. Continuing to study the sky, she asked, "Which star did you choose?"

   "The one over there, off to the left." His voice grew soft, and if she was not mistaken carried a touch of sorrow in its depth.

   He pointed to her star. Scotia frowned. "Why did you pick that one?" she asked, curious as to why he had picked the same star as she in a sky filled with so many other more worthy choices.

   "It reminded me of my position in my clan. Alone, yet surrounded by many."

   Her frown deepened. "It is how I always feel—alone, yet surrounded by all of Scotland. But how is it the same for you? How can you be alone within the bosom of your clan?"

   "It is easy when you are not truly one of them. I am a MacKinnon in name only." His voice was flat, devoid of all feeling as he spoke, sparking the compassion she tried to hold in check.

   "And yet you came here to learn, to help protect your clan."

   "I am to lead them after my foster father is gone."

   "He must care for you greatly and trust you to ask such a thing."

   "He does. It is Griffin and the rest of the clan who question my leadership."

   Scotia frowned. "Will the others follow you when the time comes?"

   "Aye. All except Griffin, who will challenge me always." Ian groaned. "I think I finally understand why my foster father sent me here to you—to gain the skills necessary to keep the others, especially Griffin, in line."

   Their fingers rested on the wooden plank, mere inches apart. An overwhelming urge to reach out to him, to place her fingers atop his swamped her, but she forced herself to remain still.

   Instead, she studied the way Ian reclined against the stairs, his pose casual, yet ready to spring forward should there be a need. A true warrior.

   Scotia wished for a glimmer of moonlight to reveal his face. No one had ever confided so much of himself to her before. She could not help but wonder why he did so now. Did he feel the same companionship she felt this eve? If she could just look into his eyes, she would know his feelings, but the darkness made that impossible. "Why did your foster father choose you to lead your clan over Griffin?"

   He gave a short laugh that held no humor. "Because I am a better warrior. In these uncertain times, the protection of my clan is vital." He turned his face toward her, though it still remained shadowed. "It is not only the Four Horsemen who stir trouble in our land. Their fellow Englishmen threaten our freedom with their efforts to constrain Robert the Bruce and those who support him."

   "My men are out there now, fighting for those very causes. I only regret that our people do not come to me to train. I could help them if they would...."

   "By training me, you are helping your people, Scotia."

   "I had not considered that." How did he always manage to take her by surprise? In battle she was prepared for any eventuality. But in this new game with Ian, she never knew what to expect. His sympathy, his humility, his humanity could strike her to her knees before she knew what hit her.

   Like now, she could only watch, hardly daring to breathe, as he captured one of the tendrils of her hair that had escaped her tight plait during her battle with Griffin. He twined it about his finger. "Scotland might have forgotten how lucky she is to have you, but I have not." His voice deepened to a husky whisper.

   Before she could react, he leaned down and placed his lips against hers. His kiss was swift, even chaste, but it set off a wistful yearning deep inside her. When he drew back she was tempted to grab his shirt and pull him close again. But she could not lose herself to her desire, no matter how desperately she might want to. Instead she curled her hands at her sides.

   Twice tonight he had caught her off guard. A dangerous state that could get her killed.

   Scotia jumped to her feet. "I had best return to my chamber."

   "What about Griffin?"

   "He would not dare to challenge me again this night."

   Ian stood beside her. "He will not, I shall make certain of that. I intend to stand guard over him all night if I must."

   A warm glow moved through her at his words. She did not need his protection, but the sentiment was comforting all the same. "Until the morrow then."

   She picked up the now empty jug of ale and the tankard they had shared, then headed back into the castle. With each step her resolve to end their intimacy faltered. Only reason and logic kept her moving forward. She dared not look behind her. She could not bear the thought of seeing him standing in the doorway, looking as forlorn and confused as she now felt.

   It was best to hurry away and not think about anything at all.

   The next morning, Scotia entered the inner courtyard of the castle and watched Griffin fill a flask with water from the well. His expression was solemn as he concentrated on his task. In the light of day, he appeared much younger and far more vulnerable than he had seemed the previous night. Where Ian's features reflected a toughness brought on no doubt by years of living as an outsider in his clan, Griffin's face held the first flush of youth and inexperience. Perhaps that accounted for his erratic and sometimes childish behavior. He still had not discovered the man inside himself.

   He finished at the well, then secured the bladder to the saddle of his horse. "You decided to leave she asked as he moved to mount the animal.

   He swung around. For a moment a glimmer of surprise crossed his face before he schooled his features into the petulant look he bore. "I did not think I was welcome to remain."

   "That depends." Scotia stopped a sword's length from him.

   "Upon what, may I ask?" His hand moved to cover the hilt of his sword.

   "Your reasons for coming here." Her gaze remained steadily on his face, yet she was aware of the tension of his fingers on his weapon, of the way he widened his stance to support a strike with his sword. "You should not be so hasty to draw that weapon, or I shall cut off your fingers before you free it of its scabbard."

   He grasped his weapon, testing her.

   Scotia drew her sword. The weapon sliced through the air and halted a hairsbreadth above his exposed knuckles.

   His eyes widened, filled with disbelief, as he jerked his hand away. He winced at the sliver of a cut across three of his fingers. Tiny droplets of blood trickled toward his fingertips. "Must you always wound me?"

   "Must you always challenge me?" Scotia sheathed her sword.

   His disillusioned gaze swept over her. "Because you're a—"

   "Woman?" Scotia finished for him.

   "Aye." He leaned back against his horse, his bravado spent. "It is unnatural for a female to fight as you do."

   She had to agree. What she did was unusual for most women, but her mother had trained her to be more than her sex usually allowed. "That may be so, Griffin, but this is what I am." She resisted the urge to tug down the edge of her brigandine under his scrutiny. She would not apologize for what she was. "You may use it to your benefit to help strengthen your clan, or you may turn away from me and remain as you are."