Page 42 of Highlander Redeemed
But she wanted to be a warrior, and he knew this was a lesson all warriors must learn, though most learned it easier than Scotia did. Too bad she was not as adept at this as she was with all her other lessons.
As the night sky began to give way to the first hints of dawn he rose, settled his sword at his hip, his dagger already in place. He prepared himself for more anger from her, perhaps even tears if she thought manipulating his feelings for her ’twould help her cause. ’Twas an uncharitable thought, but a true one. At least it had been true until the last few weeks. He rubbed the heel of his hand against the center of his chest, trying to ease the ache that pulsed there. He had surely killed whatever feelings had been growing between them, but he could not dwell on that. No matter how much he rued the loss of her smiles and soft touches, no matter how much he yearned to take her into his arms and lose himself in her kisses or watch her lose herself to passion, no matter what she did or how she reacted, he owed it to her to complete her training. Only then could he keep his promise to send her into battle.
Duncan waited no longer, making his way deeper into the cave to rouse Scotia.
It did not take him long to discover her ruse. He berated himself silently, doing his best not to wake the bairns and weans sleeping with their mothers as he strode back to the cave mouth. He should have known Scotia would not meekly take to her bed in her anger and disappointment. He should have known she would see his denial of her readiness to go into battle as a betrayal of their agreement. But her changed behavior this last fortnight had lulled him into thinking she really had transformed herself, thatshe would stay in the caves, honoring her promise not to leave them without him in spite of her ire.
He had let his hope that she really had learned to think like a warrior instead of a spoiled, hard-headed wean, his pride in her skills, and his growing attraction to the woman he thought she had become cloud his clear-eyed understanding of her.
He stopped for a moment, wishing he had Scotia’s gift ofknowingso he could find her as easily as she found him, but he did not. He had to depend upon his tracking skills and an understanding of his quarry. There had been no moon last night, no light to travel by unless she’d taken a lantern with her. Of course if she’d taken a lantern the light would have drawn someone’s attention, unless she waited until she was well away from the cave site and then lit it. ’Twas what he would have done, but when she was riled, she did not think clearly, as evidenced by her disappearance, and if she had not thought of taking light, she would not have gotten far in the night.
Light or none, the one thing he was certain of was that she would not have gone anywhere without her weapons.
AS SOON ASthere was light enough to show the difference between the dark shadows of the trees and underbrush, and the clear spaces between them, Scotia crept out from the thick bushes she had sheltered under all night, brushing pine needles and bracken from her trews before settling her targe on her arm. Quickly she resumed the task she had set herself the night before: getting out of the glen and joining the battle without Duncan stopping her.
Despite what he thought, she had learned his lessons well, so she spent a lot of time moving slowly through the wood, first down the ben, then slogging back up in the frigid water of a burn, then across a rocky ledge, back down a ways, then finally, when she wassure even Duncan could not follow her, she stopped to catch her breath and drink from the burn she’d been following for a while. When her thirst was slaked, she looked up, peering through the leafy canopy where she could just make out a shallow dip between peaks, though it was almost completely blanketed in rain-heavy clouds. She had found this poor excuse for a pass soon after she arrived in this glen, an almost impassable way out of the valley and back into the world beyond. Almost. She told herself she was well pleased with her decision to keep this pass to herself, her own secret bolt-hole should she need it, but a tiny, niggling whisper of a thought dimmed the pleasure with the hope that Duncan would find her, stop her, before she did something that she would rue.
Nay, she would rue nothing. She had kept her part of their bargain, training hard, reining in her emotions, doing everything Duncan required of her, and it had gained her nothing.
Never again would she fall for his lies.
She grabbed the round shield from where she had laid it by the burn and set out again, trudging up the ever steeper benside as fast as her tired legs could take her, justifying her every step with his betrayal, his damning silence when the time had come for him to step up and keep his word. She would show him. She’d show them all that though she might not be a Guardian, she was a warrior, and she would have her part in the battle to protect her home.
The sudden sound of something, or someone, moving quickly toward her through the dense underbrush had her whipping around, her sword in hand and her shield in place.
“Do not take one more step if you wish to keep your head.” Each word sliced through the quiet of the benside like a claymore parting flesh, the strength of her roiling emotions lending each one the weight of certain death.
“You do not want another death upon your conscience, Scotia.”
Duncan. Damn the man.
“I have no deaths upon my conscience!” She knew her voice was louder than necessary but she could not control it.
“May I approach you?” His voice was calm, lacking any emotion to tell her what he was thinking, or what he might be planning. “May I?” he asked again.
Everything in her head, in her heart, in her gut screamednay, yet she found herself nodding, though she knew not if he could see her, unwilling to expose her raw feelings by speaking again.
But he must have been close enough to see her, or he simply knew she would not harm him, at least not with her sword. Her words, if she let them fly, could hurt him as much as his silence had hurt her, and she would not show him mercy while she eviscerated him with them.
“You cannot leave like this,” he said as he drew to a stop a few steps out of her sword range. No one could call Duncan uncautious.
“I will leave how and when I wish. You broke your promise to me, so you have forfeited your right to any say in what I do.” She waved her sword in his direction for good measure.
“I have not broken my promise—”
“Am I to join the battle as a warrior then?” she asked, knowing full well she was not.
“Nay, but—”
“Yet you espoused my skills, that I had learned your lessons well, that my gift of knowing ...” It was only then that she realized she had notknownhe was the one following her. Why had she notknown? Had her gift fled her, too?
“What is it?” Duncan asked. “Is there trouble?”
“Nay, not for me. There will be for you if you try to stop me.”
He threw up his hands, as if surrendering to her. “I am not here to stop you.”
“You lie.” She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him, and tried to see if she couldknowif he lied, but there was nothing, as if she had never had a gift at all. She took a shuddering breath at the thought that she had lost the one thing that really set her apart and made her an asset to the clan who probably wished she’d never been born.
