Page 21 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
Her husband grunted, bending down to pick a primrose from the tangled bunch. “‘Tis a lovely effort, me wife.”
“Aye; Arthur said the same thing.” Flora giggled once more, standing patiently still as her husband began to weave a number of flowers into her hair. “Dear husband, yer going to keep yer laird waiting at to training grounds.”
“He can wait,” Nathan replied softly.
Soon, Flora’s head was braided and adorned with colorful flowers, and Olivia couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealous longing. She would never expect Arthur to do something similar; she wasn’t even sure she’d have a chance at a husband anymore, what with no proper clan to back her. But, at least for this moment, she could experience such tender love vicariously through her new friend, pretending alongside her that such a life was within her reach.
12
The clang of steel sent a wave up Arthur’s arm, forcing him to grip his sword’s hilt tighter and swing back with just as much power. Torches had long-since been stuck in the ground and lit to stave off the oncoming nighttime, their orange hues flickering off the various weapons held by his men, or hanging on racks in eager anticipation.
His opponent, a newer recruit and barely old enough to start growing a beard of his own, was surprisingly talented, using his smaller stature to quickly dodge out of the laird’s swing. Again, Arthur’s sword lunged for him. Again, the boy managed to duck underneath.
He took a few paces back to catch his breath, heat coursing through his body and pushing him forward. Movement within the growing crowd caught his attention, and he easily caught sight of Nathan’s towering frame, slipping towards the front with Flora in hand. Of course; there was only one reason his man-at-arms would’ve taken his time. And, much to Arthur’sdelight, Olivia tailed behind them, hugging her arms and glancing awkwardly about.
Arthur’s attention shifted back to the boy, noticing his chest rise and fall quicker than before. “Aye…if that’s the game I have to play…” He twisted his sword and dove back into combat, catching the boy off-hand as he went back on the offensive.
“I wouldnae think the laird of MacDonnell would have a match last so long against a wee lad?” The sentence slipped out of Olivia’s mouth before she could process it fully, and she quickly covered it with her hand, glancing Flora’s way in search of any insult on her face. Much to her relief, the laird’s sister simply giggled in reply, gesturing towards her husband as she spoke.
“Nathan, is my brother struggling against his opponent right now?” she asked.
Nathan shook his. “Nay; ‘tis how he likes to fight with the newer whelps. Get a feel for their tactics so he can help them cover their weak points.” He gestured a hand forward towards the boy, who continued dancing around Arthur as if he were taking part in a grand performance. “See there, lass? Awful spry, thanks to his youth and size. Arthur willnae be able to match that speed.”
“So, how does he win?” Olivia asked.
Nathan went to respond, but Flora excitedly cut in. “With stamina, Olivia! Me brother's awful patient; he’ll wear the lad down bit by bit.”
“A fresh whelp needs a fight to end as soon as possible,” Nathan added lightly. “But for someone like Arthur, who lives an’ breathes battle, he has the advantage o’time.”
The advantage of time…as Olivia looked back to watch the sparring match, she paid particular attention to the mens’ overall stature. While the boy did seem able to dodge every attack it looked as if it took him a bit longer each time to do so. He took more frequent gasps of air, occasionally stumbled on legs that were slowly losing the ability to hold him upright.
And Arthur…he simply kept coming, each strike the same speed, the same weight. It was like watching an insect fight against the oncoming winds of a storm; eventually, the insect was going to lose.
And lose, he did. After a rather sloppy series of missteps, the boy’s sword finally flung out of his hands, disarmed by a quick sweep of Arthur’s, and he went tumbling to the ground. Arthur’s sword pointed directly at his neck, and only Olivia gasped at such a sight. The way his arms flexed to account for the shift in weight, the sweat that glistened off the torchlight; it was impossible not to gawk at. The other kinsfolk–Flora included–let out a clamorous cheer, clearly delighted to have witnessed their laird in action. Olivia was delighted, certainly…but for clearly other reasons.
“Aye, that was some impressive footwork, lad,” Arthur said with a chuckle. He dropped his sword to his side, free hand offered to the boy as he pulled him upright with one yank. “Yer speed is a powerful asset, but ye need more against someone with stamina. Train yerself to target weak points on yer opponent, an’ ye’ll get him down faster than yer stamina runs out.”
The boy nodded, still huffing and puffing, but looking as if he’d been the true victor to emerge. He offered his laird grateful thanks, bowing his head before quickly joining the rest of the new recruits.
“Now,” Arthur’s eye flickered to Nathan, a devilish grin stretching across his face. “Ye get over here an’ really make me work fer the win, would ye?”
His man-at-arms shrugged, giving his wife a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping into the ring himself. Arthur’s attention flickered to Olivia, still looking somewhat in awe at his previous match, and he offered her a one-eyed wink. She retaliated with the dirtiest look she could muster at such short notice, and a chuckle once more erupted from Arthur’s chest.
“Och, Olivia; whatever is that face for?”
Olivia blinked, completely forgetting that she was meant to be smitten by Arthur’s charm and roguish nature. She managed a nervous peal of laughter, grasping at a thick strand of hair beforebeginning to braid it. “Face? What face? I–’tis how my face always looks, Flora.”
Olivia didn’t need Flora’s deadpan stare to know she didn’t believe a single word. “Nay, there’s something eatin’ at ye. What’s wrong?” She followed Olivia’s gaze, watching as her brother and husband flung themselves right into the next match. Her brow furrowed, eyes returning to Olivia and staring as a mother might when catching her child tracking mud across freshly-wiped floors. “Olivia, did me brother do something to upset ye?”
“N-Nay! I mean, not on purpose?” Olivia sighed, fingers moving quicker than before as she finished her braid. She moved onto another strand, weaving her hair together as if it were second nature at this point. “I mean…we may have had a bit of a tiff. Just yer standard lover’s quarrel; nothing to be worried ‘bout.”
Unfortunately for Olivia, Flora did, in fact, look worried. “Tell me again how ye came to fall fer me braither?”
Olivia smiled nervously, fingers moving faster as she finished a rather sloppy braid. “O-oh! I–I coulda sworn I told ye already. At the beach, remember?”
“Aye, I remember talking about how me an’ Nathan got together,” Flora corrected. “An’ I remember ye sayin’ y’had plenty o’time to talk.”
Olivia swallowed nervously as she began to work on a third braid.
