Page 39 of When the Laird Claims
As he spoke, he started to rise out of the tub, water sluicing down his chest in rivulets. He cleared his throat pointedly, well aware that she was staring at his bare chest.
“B-but, the storm,” she choked.
He flashed a smirk back at her. “What, are ye made of sugar? Shall I taste ye and find out?”
Victoria felt as if her face wasactuallyon fire as she whipped right back around, muttering half-lame apologies as she hightailed it out of the room.
She had made it halfway down the hallway when she realized that he was laughing—had the brute teased her on purpose?
18
“And where’s the terrible storm that brought ye to me bedchamber, eh?” Arran asked with a sly smirk.
Victoria faltered as she walked at his side, for the storm that had howled and raged against the keep seemed to have… vanished. As if it wanted to play a trick on her for using it as an excuse to knock upon his door and see him in the bathtub.
“You heard it,” she protested. “There is no way you did not. Itwasraining so hard I thought there were people throwing stones at the window. Not to mention the thunder and lightning.”
He chuckled. “What ye have to learn about the weather in Scotland is that it can change in a moment. Ye can be wandering the hills in the brightest sunshine one second, then be in the midst of a downpour the next. That’s why ye mustnae worry over storms here. Aye, some in the winter can be brutal, but more often than nae, they pass swiftly.”
She relaxed at his reprieve, her embarrassment subsiding enough that she could take in the landscape that surrounded them.
The gardens in the daytime might have been Victoria’s favorite place in the entire castle, easily. However, the gardens at night? Absolutely breathtaking. It was actually hard to put into words how spectacular she found it. The sky felt larger here, in a way that made her feel impossibly small. Perhaps it was because she had only looked out at the moon through her window before. Here, the stars seemed to shine more brightly overhead, and now that she had the opportunity to stand below the waning moon’s silvery light glancing over her skin, she felt effervescent.
Funny, considering that the reason she was here was to learn a lesson in fighting, but the atmosphere made her feel wholly calm. She had had no idea what it was that she ought to wear in a setting like this, but she had presumed that her normal dresses would not allow for the correct sort of movements; however, it was not as if she had an abundance of options. She had momentarily considered attempting to locate a pair of trousers for the occasion, but that had embarrassed her far too much. It mattered not at all that Arran already knew exactly what her legs looked like bared before him.
Oh, that was exactly what she needednotto be thinking about when she was about to undergo this little lesson.
At least with the moon so high and bright in the sky, they would be able to see one another perfectly fine, but she had brought a couple of lanterns with her just in case.
“Set those lanterns down over there,” Arran instructed, gesturing to a square of lawn up ahead. “I just need to fetch somethin’ for yer lesson.”
As he hurried off, she walked the rest of the way alone… and waited for his return.
It was hard to know how much time had passed, but she was starting to think that he might have tricked her for a second time to tease her even more than he had before—at least until she felt the warmth of a very large body directly behind her. His breath brushed against the shell of her ear as his hand found her waist, squeezing softly as Arran spoke in a very low, husky voice.
“Lesson number one: never turn yer back on yer enemy, lass.”
Goosebumps erupted all down her spine, and she had to actively fight to suppress a shudder. “But I was expecting you!”
“And what if I were someone else, lass? What then? What if I had asked Neil to come down here in me stead… would ye have been so trusting?” Arran asked seriously. She could tell from his tone that he was perfectly serious, and that this was no joking matter to him. She ought to take it equally seriously.
“Well, I suppose that I did just assume…”
“And ye cannae do that. Not when it comes to this, lass,” Arran said firmly. “Ye have to keep yer head on a swivel so that nae matter where the threat is comin’ from.”
“That sounds exhausting,” Victoria answered, but she knew that it was true.
It was how she had always felt around Charles. She had to be on alert, never knowing where he was coming from or what mood he might be in at any given moment. It had been almost overwhelming then for her, and that was when she was only facing one opponent.
“How do you stay that alert during your battles all the time?”
“Practice,” Arran answered.
“That’s it?”
He nodded once and then started to walk in a small circle around her, lifting her hand into a defensive position while he moved, shaping her as if she were a sculpture being formed: a new statue for the garden.
“The best way to defend yer face is to keep yer arms up like this.Alwaysprotect yer face. Ye cannae do much when yer eyes start waterin’ because ye’ve been punched in the nose.” Arran paused and pulled a small knife from within his kilt and extended it toward her. “And if that doesnae work, then this should be somethin’ about yer size.”
