Page 46 of Here in Your Arms
A strange sort of heaviness settled in her chest, though she wasn’t sure why.
A question pressed at the edges of her mind, one she hadn’t quite let herself consider before.
She hesitated, glancing down briefly before lifting her gaze to meet his once more. “Does it... bother you?” Her voice wasquieter now, a touch uncertain. “To have me here? To see me every day and know that I’mnother?”
“It doesnae change what is. Ye are here and she is nae. I buried Margaret a week ago.”
Like so many of his responses, this one was vague, telling her nothing really.
Not an answer at all.
Rose nodded tightly and with a rigid smile, turned and walked away.
***
The sun had shifted high into the sky by the time Rose stepped outside again, making her escape as she saw it.
She had spent the last few hours in Leana’s solar—or rather, what would have been Margaret’s solar had she lived, had she wed—a length of embroidery sitting idly in her lap while Leana prattled on, seemingly unaware that Rose never once pressed needle to cloth. The older woman had been content just to have her there, a silent presence, nodding when prompted, murmuring sounds of agreement when required.
Rose had done her duty. She had sacrificed the time to sit with Leana, listening, enduring. Surely now, she deserved a bit of freedom.
Stepping into the open air, she inhaled deeply, the weight of the morning’s stillness lifting from her shoulders. She wandered past the keep, following the sloping path that wove through the tall grass. A short distance ahead, the clang of metal on metal carried on the breeze, punctuated by the occasional shouted command.
She had noticed the training field before, had paused and maybe wondered a bit at what went on specifically, but had not dared to intrude. Today, though, curiosity tugged at her,drawing her closer until she found herself lingering beside the only tree in sight, standing on the rise overlooking the field, its gnarled trunk offering a bit of cover. From there, she could see flashes of movement—men shifting, lunging, striking, in groups of two, sparring she supposed.
She had studied such things before—tactics, formations, battle strategies—but only in books. She’d seen poorly made films of reenactments, learning nothing from those, but had never seen it like this.
The sound of footsteps turned her around toward the keep in the distance.
A man approached, one eye pinned on her and the other closed against the sun until he walked under the canopy of broad branches, into the shade.
Rose tensed, expecting his stare to be unkind, but as he drew nearer, she judged his expression pleasant, unaffected even.
He was middle-aged, his thin hair cropped short and streaked with silver at the temples, his beard neatly trimmed. Unlike so many others—almost everyone else at Druimlach—he did not gawk at her as though she were a ghost. If he had thoughts about her presence, they did not show on his face.
“Have an interest in fighting, lass?” he asked, stopping beside her.
Rose let out a soft, self-conscious laugh. “Not infighting, exactly. But I’ve studied military training and strategies of this—or similar to this. I’ve never seen it this close up, though.”
The man tilted his head, considering her. “This is nae close, lass. Come down and see.”
“Oh, I don’t want to... I couldn’t.”
He merely shrugged and began to walk away.
Rose hesitated, then called after him, “Could I? I mean... would that be allowed?”
Another shrug as he paused and turned back to her. “Lasses fight, too.”
She let out another short laugh. “Oh, I couldn’tactuallyfight.”
“Nae bad skills to have, though, aye?”
Her fingers drifted to her cheek, a gesture so habitual she barely noticed doing it.
The man, perhaps mistaking the reason for her hesitation, nodded toward the men training below. “Loads of scars down there with them. They willna be bothered by it. And those ones who gave ye grief the other night? They’re nae here today.”
Rose grimaced. “I didn’t mean to get them in trouble.”
