Page 28 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
“Until later,” she said as he turned for the door. “An’ remember Roderick—joy!”
Roderick paused as he went to turn the handle, a half-smile tugging at his lips. He wished that it was as simple as that. He had much to solve before he could even think of joy. Even more so, he didn’t believe he deserved it yet.
“Aye, Maither,” he said, his voice softer than before, “I’ll try.”
With that he stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him. With everything that had happened since that morning, he had forgotten that he was supposed to meet Cameron and was already a half hour late.
The field where he met Cameron for their weekly sparring sessions was just beyond the stables, a wide, open space that was close enough to the castle to reach quickly, but far away enough to spar in private.
As he exited the castle with haste, making his way through the courtyard, the cold wind bit at his skin.
He hurried, until he reached the field, spotting Cameron amidst the tall grass swaying in the breeze. His friend stood with his back to him, adjusting the leather straps of his kilt and preparing his wooden sword for practice.
“Ye’re late, me laird,” Cameron called out, not turning to face him, his tone light but with a hint of challenge.
Roderick smirked and swung his cloak off, tossing it aside before moving further through the frost-bitten field. The conditions weren’t ideal, but Cameron and Roderick were accustomed to sparring each week, no matter how bitter the weather.
“Aye, had a bit o’ business tae take care o’.”
As Cameron turned to face him, he chucked him a wooden sword that Roderick caught in his right hand with ease.
They squared off a few paces apart, eyes locked, as the wind bit into their faces.
"Ready, then?" Cameron asked, raising an eyebrow, as they both took their stances.
"Ready," Roderick replied, his jaw tightening.
Without warning, Cameron lunged forward, his sword moving with speed towards his target.
Roderick countered him with a swift block, the impact cracking through the air and drowning out the howling wind. As they continued, Cameron was relentless, and Roderick was mainly on defense—differing from his usual style.
"Somethin' on yer mind?" Cameron grunted, dodging a swing and stepping in close to land a light tap to Roderick’s stomach with the flat of his sword. “Ye seem distracted.”
Roderick's breath was heavy as he shifted his weight, raising his sword again as Cameron stepped back. “There’s a lot on me mind,” he said, “ye’re nae wrong there.”
“Care to share?” Cameron called over the wind. Roderick’s eyes narrowed, his muscles tensing in preparation for Cameron's next move, but he was momentarily caught off guard when Cameron suddenly dropped his sword, crossed his arms, and smirked at him appraisingly.
“What’s this?” He asked. “Givin’ up so soon?”
“Nay,” he chuckled. “Just givin’ ye a chance tae speak yer mind. All this broodin’ cannae be good fer ye.”
Roderick lowered his sword, considering what information he could share with Cameron without really sharing any information at all. “Ye’re right,” he said. “I’ve been thinkin’ a great deal, but mostly about the weight o’ this new position—the position o’ laird. It’s all come at me so fast, an’ I worry…”
But before Roderick could continue, footsteps sounded behind him, and his words trailed off as he saw Cameron’s expression change.
He turned around to face a young squire with flushed cheeks, his breath coming out in quick anxious bursts. He clutched rolled parchment paper in his hands, an expression of deep urgency on his face.
“Me laird, I bear urgent news,” he said, his voice trembling.
“Speak lad,” Roderick said, his voice calm but quick. “What news dae ye bring?”
“I regret tae inform ye that there’s been a large fire in the southern part o’ the land,” the squire said, his eyes darting nervously. “It’s burned through the fields where one o’ the Fraser’s major wheat crops is kept. We’re workin’ to salvage what we can, but…” The boy hesitated, his voice faltering. “It daesnae look good, me laird.”
Roderick stared out at the Highlands, the wind breaking across his face as the weight of the situation bore down on him.
“Thank ye,” he said to the squire, before turning to Cameron. “Gather the Council immediately,” he said. “We have much tae discuss.”
The Council room was lit by the glow of flickering torches, as the day outside grew darker, the sun hidden behind a shield of grey. The men were still settling into their places when Roderick strode in, and the murmurs of their voices hushed as soon as he entered.
