Page 42 of Hunted By the Hard Highlander

This time, she seemed to be more confident, as if disarming was something that she would much rather do. His body acted on instinct as she approached, shifting out of the way when she swiped at him once. Immediately, his brain engaged, a surge of pride running through him at the way her body moved.

He dodged her first attempt to send him off balance, pulling his own blade toward his body. Then, jumping back, he struck. She anticipated the movement, though. With a grace he was not expecting, she slid to the side.

Before Hendry was able to parry her next attempt, she struck again. This time, she swung the dull end of her blade, catching his wrist. A tendril of numbness crawled down his arm from the place where she connected, and to his surprise and mild horror, his own blade dropped from his fingers onto the ground.

The tip dug itself into the dirt, sticking up as if it were just as proud of Aurora’s surprisingly skilled display as he was.

For a beat, the two of them stared at the evidence of her quick learning, the proof that she could help herself if anything happened to him. When she registered what she had done, a pleased smile slowly spread over her features. She seemed to be glowing with the discovery that she was truly capable.

“I did it!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together and jumping up and down. “I knocked yer dirk away!”

“Aye,” he said, trying and failing to keep the corners of his mouth from lifting when she threw her hands in the air. It was an almost childlike excitement, and he was surprised that she was able to have a moment of levity like this in the face of the danger they both knew was coming. “Aye, it seems as if ye did.”

“Ye are smilin’,” Aurora said as her excitement tempered into something more content, an assuredness that she was able to do anything she set her mind to. “Ye are really that glad that a woman like me was able to disarm ye?”

She was teasing him, a playful lilt to her voice. Part of him wanted to brush her off, scoff as he normally would, and remind her to keep the blade on her at all times. Instead, he said, “Ye have finally started to learn what I was tryin’ to teach ye.”

A soft noise came out of her mouth, her lips still curled in a way that made her light up as though she were the sun. “I can tell that ye are proud of me. Why daenae ye just say it?”

He opened his mouth, the right words seeming to evade him. Vocalizing that, as true as it may be, felt too vulnerable. It was giving her too much of himself. It would not protect her.

“Daenae forget what I taught ye,” Hendry said finally, shifting his attention to the training grounds around them. The mist was nearly burned away and the castle was beginning to wake up. It would not be long until his men were here to run drills. “And never go anywhere without the sgian-dubh. Even if ye are only movin’ within the castle.”

Then, he turned, not giving her an opportunity to respond. As he walked across the well-trodden dirt, he heard her let out a scoff that sounded like disbelief. He could not bring himself to be irritated about it, thankful that she was focused on something other than the looming threat of MacGonagal and his men.

If this is the price I must pay for her to have a moment of peace, so be it.

Chapter Twenty

Hendry ran his hand along the side of the outer wall, testing the integrity with a sharp push of his palm. It held, just as he expected it would. He knew that they could not take any chances, though. One mistake is all it would take to put the entire clan at risk.

A mistake may have already been made.

“Everythin’ looks solid,” Willy said, approaching from the opposite direction that Hendry had been surveying. “Nae a single weak spot. The shepherd and the grooms have been followin’ yer instructions.”

“I ken,” Hendry said. “They are good men.”

“I do believe that we are nearly finished with the preparations for the handfastin’,” Willy said as he crossed his arms over his chest. Somewhere within the woods just beyond where they were standing, a twig broke, catching both of their attention. “A deer.”

“Aye,” Hendry said as he spotted the animal weaving through the trees. “Simply a deer.”

They had been on high alert, and the sun was hanging in the cloudless afternoon sky. The likelihood of someone slipping by undetected was negligible. Hendry had been worried about Aurora since their training session earlier in the day regardless.

“They have been gettin’ bolder lately, it seems,” Willy said, the inconsequential topic feeling like a caricature of normalcy. If it were not for the nagging feeling Hendry had in his chest from having Aurora out of his sight, he might have indulged the other man. “Seems the wolves arenae cullin’ them as they should be.”

“It has been a prosperous year for the deer,” Hendry grunted, stepping past Willy as he continued his inspection of the barrier. “There arenae any less wolves than in years prior.”

Willy made a noise of acknowledgment, staying where he was standing. When Hendry looked over his shoulder, his man-at-arms was gazing toward the sky. As if it were giving him the answer before he could ask it, a hawk cried overhead.

“That is our messenger,” Hendry said, spotting the bird circling above them. He broke from the wall, walking as quickly as he could without running to meet the hawk in the aviary. “I wasnae expectin’ him for another day or two.”

“Ye only sent it a few days ago, aye?” Willy asked as he followed Hendry.

“Aye,” Hendry replied, putting out his arm as the hawk descended. “Laird O’Kingsley’s servants make the birds rest for at least a day, so if he has replied, it must be urgent.”

Before he had even touched the bird’s body, he could tell there would not be a response. The message strap was hanging from his chest. Around his leg, there was a strip of tartan.

Hendry’s jaw hardened as he grabbed onto the end of the separated harness. It was cut clean through, clearly done with the quick swipe of a sharp blade. If he were to guess, a skilled hand was behind the action. There was not a single sign of hesitation.