Page 22 of Highlander’s Hope

Aye, she’d reacted too harshly. All he’d done was compliment her and look at her like a man looked at a woman he wanted. She’d seen it between husbands and wives, between lovers, between her brother Craig and his new wife, Amy, when she and Colin had gone to Inverlochy about two sennights ago.

Konnor’s look hadn’t been malicious. It would ignite desire in a regular, undamaged woman. Especially from a man like Konnor.

Malcolm brought his blade down and from the side. Marjorie barely managed to deflect his sword.

“Stay in the fight.” Owen’s words rang out in her head. Her half-brother had told her that over and over again in the first year of her training after Colin was born. “Stay in the fight. Dinna slip back into that dark, dangerous place ye’ve just crawled out of.”

Owen was four years younger than her. He was a rebel and a rake and made their father frustrated enough to pull out his hair, but Owen had always been there for her. He and Isbeil were the two people who’d gotten her out of the bottomless pit of desperation she’d been trapped in.

He’d distracted her with tall tales and even made her laugh once in a while. During her whole pregnancy, she’d refused to believe there was a part of that monster inside of her. She hadn’t wanted anything to do with the baby, and she’d even considered asking Isbeil to give the bairn to a good family in one of the Cambel villages.

But she hadn’t. The moment the baby was placed on her chest, she’d known there was not a drop of Alasdair in him. He was pure and beautiful and hers. Her son. Hers alone. He was a Cambel through and through. And that had been the start of her healing. In a way, her son had saved her.

She stepped forward, stopping just short of smashing the pommel of her sword into Malcolm’s face.

“Aye. Good, lass,” Malcolm said, breathing heavily, his wrinkled forehead glistening with sweat. “In a real battle, that unexpected move might be why ye win.”

Marjorie panted, too. She leaned forwards and put her hands on her knees.

Real battle… A chill ran through her.

“I’ll ken what a real battle is sooner rather than later,” she said.

Aye, she’d know whether she wanted to or not.

Marjorie glanced at the entrance of the tower where Konnor had stood watching her, but he was gone now. Her stomach dropped in disappointment. She was very conflicted about him. On the one hand, she was being careful. He was a stranger who’d lied to her to get into the castle. A stranger who was talking about things she’d never heard of, demanding her to call some numbers. He wanted a phone. What the hell was all that about?

A spy wouldn’t draw attention to himself like that. A spy would blend in and be unnoticeable. So chances were Konnor wasn’t a MacDougall spy. He really must be a man in trouble, and mayhap he was more injured than he thought he was.

At the same time, he was handsome. So handsome, that for the first time since Dunollie, Marjorie had noticed a man. For the first time in twelve years, someone had stirred feelings in her, feelings she’d never thought she would have. Excitement bubbled in her stomach playfully and clouded her head like a strong ale.

Nae. She didn’t need this. Whoever Konnor was, he was a distraction. She should take this sudden attraction to him as a sign she was mending. One wee step at a time, she was healing. But nothing more than that. Even if she was getting better, she would still never take a lover or a husband. Her decision in that regard wouldn’t change. She would never act on her feelings towards a man like Konnor. He was handsome, powerful, and made her heart beat faster.

“Mistress, while ye’re taking yer rest, may I have a word?” a male voice said from the side.

She turned, and saw Tamhas standing there with his dark hair tied in a partial ponytail wet from sweat.

“Thanks for the practice, Malcolm,” she said and turned to Tamhas. “Aye, of course.”

Tamhas had taken her kidnapping personally since they were the same age and had grown up together. He’d been one of the guards on duty in the castle the day she disappeared. When she’d begun training as the way to release her anger and the darkness that had gathered within her, he’d been against it.

“A lass shouldna bother herself with swords and archery. Especially when she has a bairn to think of. Ye should take care.”

But Marjorie had started learning combat anyway, so Tamhas had helped her and sparred with her. After years of daily exercise, he was more skilled than Marjorie because he was more experienced in a real battle.`

Marjorie went to the round well made of rough stone in the center of the courtyard. Using the rope, she pulled up the bucket of water, her biceps burning from strain. She took a big, wooden ladle and drank from it thirstily. The water was cool and refreshing against her lips. She drew more water and handed the ladle to Tamhas, who muttered a thanks and downed it like it were uisge.

“So,” Marjorie said, leaning against the wall of the well with her hip. “What is it?”

“’Tis about the new man, Konnor.” He dipped his hands into the bucket, drew some water, and splashed it on his face with a small grunt.

“Have ye met him?” she asked.

“Nae. But I’ve heard about him from Malcolm. And I’ve seen him wobbling around.”

Marjorie’s heart lurched at the mention of Konnor’s name. She shifted her weight. “And?”

Tamhas wiped his mouth and shook his head once. “I dinna like him. Malcolm is also suspicious of him.”