He cleared his throat. “Have you a weapon?” he asked.
Chapter Three
When Keegan’s eyes met Seona’s this time, the heated passion was banked, and he seemed most solemn. Why had he asked her if she had a weapon?
“Nay,” she said, darting a glance toward her aunt. Her back was turned, and she was still conversing with the guard.
“Lady Isobel carries a dagger with her, and you should as well,” Keegan said. “You need to be able to defend yourself should—God forbid—something happen to me and the other men.”
Seona did not even want to consider such a horrid situation. “You and the other men are strong warriors and guards. I’m certain you will fight off any enemies.”
“Aye. I do hope so. But should you ever find yourself alone, ’haps after you return home, you need to know how to fight off an outlaw.” His gaze serious, he gave a slight frown. “Come. I want to give you something.” He turned sideways and offered his elbow.
“Where?” She sent another quick glance toward her aunt. The guard was giving Aunt Patience something to drink in a wooden cup.
“Just over here,” Keegan said. “’Tis in my pack.”
“Very well.” She curled her hand around his elbow. Just above it, her fingers stroked over the bulging muscle of his upper arm. The times he’d escorted her to the high table, when she’d been at Dunnakeil, were the highlights of her days. His hard, well-developed arm muscles were pleasing to her and, she had to admit,exciting.
Just as she did now, she’d always wondered what his arms would look like and feel like bare. And his chest. She felt overwarm of a sudden, but restrained the urge to fan herself. As well, a fluttering sensation overtook her stomach.
They approached his horse and his belongings on the ground. He bent and took a small dagger in a sheath from his pack. “I want to give you this, Lady Seona. I’ll teach you how to use it.”
“Oh heavens,” she whispered. His deadly serious demeanor chilled her heated skin. ’Twas no wonder he was such a skilled guard. “I thank you, but I’m not certain I will be a good warrior.”
“You’ve already proven you have a warrior’s instincts.” Keegan allowed a small grin to sneak out and she relaxed a bit. “Now you but need the skills. Besides, I’m not expecting you to be a fully-fledged warrior. ’Tis but for self-defense. I’m surprised your father or some other man in your family did not teach you. Do you have a brother?”
“Nay.” Her father would never want her to know how to wield a blade. Likely, he would fear she would use it on him.
“You can carry this smallsgian dubhon the inside of your forearm, beneath your sleeve,” Keegan said. “And I’ll show you how to draw it quickly.”
“Very well. I shall try.”
Keegan was right. She must learn how to protect herself, should the need arise. Aside from that, she relished the notion of spending a few minutes with him for knife-wielding instruction.
She glanced back to see that the clansmen had set up another tent, this one for the chief, between where she stood and the rest of their party, giving her and Keegan a bit more privacy. No one seemed to pay them any mind, and her aunt was still focusing all her attention on the handsome guard.
Keegan motioned her to a flat grassy area in front of the horses and small trees. She moved to where he indicated, her attention shifting to the gleaming basket-hilt of the broadsword at his hip. A foot-long dirk hung on his other side, and she wondered if he had more weapons hidden beneath his clothing.
“If you will raise your sleeve, I’ll show you how to put the sheath on,” he said.
Her face heating, she untied the cuff of her sleeve and raised it a bit to expose her forearm. Aunt Patience would think it unseemlyfor her to bare her forearm to a man, but he was trying to help her.
He placed the sheathed knife against the inside of her forearm and pulled the straps around.
“Och, you have wee arms. I’m not certain this will fit unless I alter it,” Keegan said, eying the sheath. After removing it and kneeling, he took out the knife and worked on the leather, punching a new hole in both of the straps.
She stood two feet away and glanced back to see if she’d been discovered yet. No one was within sight.
Keegan stood. “Now, let’s try this again.” He held the sheath against her arm and secured the straps, which were much like small belt buckles. “There now.” He smiled at his handiwork.
“It fits perfectly,” she said, examining the sheath. The well-worn leather felt foreign against the sensitive skin of her inner forearm. “But I cannot possibly take your treasured knife and sheath.”
He waved a hand. “’Tis one I wore as a lad and too small for me now anyway. I was but using it for backup.”
She was stunned. He was willing to give her a weapon from his youth? There was no telling how many years he had worn this sheath on his arm. It made her feel closer to him. She caressed the nut-brown leather, tracing the worn Celtic knot pattern, then stroked her fingertips over the decorative handle of the knife, featuring a stag.
“Did you carve this?” she asked.
