Page 48
She wondered about his life in his time. What did his home look like? What did that bewitched iron carriage that he drove look like?
He’d soon leave her, she realized. He’d soon go back to his future world with all those magical things. He had someone who needed him. He didn’t belong here. But why did she hate that thought so much?
He stood before her, and a slow grin spread on his lips. “Good morning, Marjorie,” he said, and her knees wobbled.
“Good morning to ye, too, Konnor,” she said and handed him the training stick. As he took it, their fingers touched, sending a pleasant jolt through her. “Ready?”
He took the stick with both hands, just like she’d taught him. “Ready to kick your butt.”
She forced the corners of her mouth to stay down, though his words brought a strange sense of elation into her core, like the freedom of a gentle wind moving across the purple-green hills of the Highlands.
She took up her position as well. “This time,” she said, “aim to surprise me.”
He cocked his head to the side in response, walked three steps towards her and brought his stick down in a sweeping motion, aiming for her head. With a sharp knock, she deflected it and he went from another side. The courtyard filled with a rhythmical, wooden clatter.
Their eyes locked. He stroked to the side, and she deflected, but he started an onrush of strikes. She glided back as he pushed forward. He wasn’t bad for the second day of training, she found herself thinking. Unlike other beginners, Konnor’s movements had both strength and grace to them. Where inexperienced lads locked their knees, his were bent, giving him the ability to move easily and react quickly. His shoulders were straight, and he kept his balance.
Perhaps, by the end of the day, she could start training him on actual swords and even give him a shield. The strength of his blows reverberated in her arms and shoulders, making her muscles ache dully.
Clunk, clunk, clunk, went the sticks.
Thump, thump, thump, went her heart.
He stepped forward, and she stepped back. They became one in this dance. She’d never had a sense like that in all her years of training, not with any of her sparring mates. What would it be like to be one with him, as a woman and a man, no swords and no wooden sticks, and no clothes?
Yesterday’s kiss invaded her mind. She’d melted from his hot, soft lips against hers. His tongue had gently probed and teased and played. His strong arms had wrapped around her without imprisoning her. They’d protected.
Uplifted.
Worshiped…
A hard blow came at her shoulder.
“Ow!” she spat, and a wave of irritation at herself prickled through her.
He stopped and stood with his stick facing down. “You okay?”
That strange word from the future… Okay. He must be asking if she was all right. Her shoulder stung, but her pride hurt more. She was the master here, and yet she’d let her student distracted her with his kiss. She clenched her jaw, her fist tightening around the stick.
In a lightning-fast strike, she pierced the air right in front of his heart. Her stick pushed at his ribs just as he lifted his arm to deflect her attack.
“Defend yerself!” she gritted through her teeth as she pivoted to give him another hard blow.
As her stick met his with a loud knock, she promised herself not to give him any slack and not to get distracted by him or the effect he had on her anymore. She was a warrior first. This wasn’t a dance, and he wasn’t courting her.
This was war, and she was training another warrior who’d help her protect her son and her castle. Nothing more than that. No matter how beautiful it had felt to be with him and how sweet the air was when he was nearby.
She’d better guard her heart against him, because he’d either die in the battle with MacDougalls or leave her and go back to his time. The thought of losing him made her ache.
Chapter 20
The sun hung low over the hills on the other side of the loch when Konnor went for a swim. He’d been training with Marjorie pretty much the whole day. After he’d accidentally hit her, she’d given him a run for his money, and by the end, he’d been drenched in sweat. Later, they’d started training with swords, and seeing her with one was an experience. Precise movements, calculated strikes, and deceptive maneuvers, she used her brain and her body to fight—and the combination was striking.
After the swim, Konnor washed the tunic and the breeches he’d been given earlier, and now he walked from the loch back towards the castle with them under his armpit. He was shirtless, walking in the new breeches that a servant had given him. Konnor enjoyed the clean feel of his body. His muscles sang pleasantly, like they did every time after good exercise. Especially after one with Marjorie. He’d take training like that with her every day.
The slight breeze was pleasant on his bare chest and back. He ignored the sharp pain that shot through him when he stepped on his injured leg. His ankle would be fine. He’d had worse injuries.
He breathed in a lungful of fresh, pure air. No plane contrails in the sky, no pollution, no plastic bags or water bottles swimming around in the loch. The castle stood three hundred yards away, and Konnor saw with satisfaction that the pile of rubble against the wall had been cleaned away, and the men were putting sharp stakes in the ground under the northern tower, just like he’d suggested. Up the wall, the mixture of iron and wooden spikes, and even kitchen knives were being hammered into the wall.
