The thought of it made her hopeful, and she found herself unable to sleep, as she fervently looked forward to seeing him again the following day.
What mood might he be in, though? She could not help but ponder the fact that he had not extended the invitation to supper himself. Might he still be upset with her? His temperament seemed harder to predict than the very weather.
10
It was a rare thing indeed for Alex to go out and train with the soldiers two days in a row. Though he never confided it to anyone, such exertions frequently left him more than a bit sore, for, although he was an extremely formidable physical specimen and his skills rivaled those of the best fighters in Scotland, the men under his command were likewise strong and swift enough to make such contests intense indeed. He took some measure of pride in that, for it meant that the Oliphant warriors were among the best in the land, and he liked to believe his participation in these sessions contributed to that—or if not, that he had at least selected the right man for the task of whipping them into shape, in the form of Bryan Black.
Today, however, Alex found himself heading toward the training pitch with an intensity that surprised even himself. He felt he needed to fight. To win… though some strange part of him murmured that if he took a beating instead, that might be all the better.
His father’s wheezing insults filled his brain like the noise of a rusty squeezebox. His hands ached and trembled, and when he looked down at them, he realized it was because he’dbeen clenching them into tight fists without even realizing it. His pulse pounded in his ears, and his teeth were gritted hard enough to make his head hurt.
He could not fight his father. He could barely summon the will to stand up to him, no matter how many cruel comments the spiteful old monster could hurl at him.
But the violence stored within him had to come out somehow.
When he reached the grassy expanse where the soldiers were gathered, Bryan greeted him warmly. “Laird Alex! Come tae put us all through our paces once again, eh? Perhaps because you learned that we once more find ourselves with an eager audience?”
Alex frowned, confused. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Bryan blinked, surprised. “You didnae know, then? The ladies have returned, to witness more thrilling clashes!” He turned and pointed to a nearby hill.
Alex followed the captain’s gaze, and sure enough, he saw Isla and Moira sitting there. Moira’s lovesick eyes were fixed upon Lachlan—as usual, Alex noted—but Isla was clearly looking directly at Alex. Her expression was timid, as though she was afraid to even smile.
All at once, Alex found that he was uncertain of whether he wished to engage in sparring today after all. The way he was feeling, he was uncertain of whether he could keep his rage properly contained, and Isla already seemed intimidated enough by his temper that he worried she might be scared to see it released, even under such controlled conditions.
The more time passed since her arrival at Castle Oliphant, the more he began to realize an uncomfortable truth about himself. Ever since his father had become too ill to lead the clan, Alex had felt the need to overcompensate for his lack of faithin himself by instilling fear in others as much as possible. He wanted them to obey him without question as they had Laird Douglas, and so rather than command respect, he’d opted to terrorize them over the smallest infractions instead.
Now, though, he suddenly found himself in the presence of someone he did not wish to frighten or intimidate. He was not entirely certain why, but he strongly desired her admiration and approval. He didn’t want her to cower from him as the others did, with the exception of his cousin Kirk and Bryan Black, naturally. Even though he liked to believe that both of them spoke truth to him without fear of his reaction, he was still keenly aware that there were times when they felt the need to tiptoe around his erratic moods.
Still, he had come to the pitch for a purpose that day, and he felt that if he did not see it through, he would not be comfortable in his own skin for the rest of the day. It would feel too much like showing weakness and retreating in front of his men.
And there was still the frustration within him, which had built up to the point of requiring immediate release.
Most of all, though, he found that he did not wish to put any more distance between them for the moment—figuratively or literally.
Alex cleared his throat. “If they have come for a show,” he rumbled, “then I suppose we ought tae give them a proper one.”
He was tempted to select Lachlan as a sparring partner, but from the look of the lad, he’d already been in a couple of scrapes, and looked the worse for it. It would not, then, be a fair match.
Instead, he pointed to a man named Callum, who was roughly the size of a bear. “You there. Come and show me what you’re made of. And dinnae hold back,” he warned darkly, “or I’ll know.”
Callum nodded and stepped forward, clearly ready to give it his all.
As the two men circled each other, Alex sized up Callum’s center of gravity. The man crouched low to the ground, keeping his stance sturdy, and he moved with a surprising smoothness for one his size, indicating that he’d likely be far swifter and more dangerous than he looked.
Alex glanced in Isla’s direction… not for any good reason, as he immediately realized, but due to sheer vanity, as he wished to see whether she was impressed with his form.
That error cost him instantly.
For Callum was, indeed, every bit as fast as Alex had predicted, if not faster. His eyes had been locked on the laird’s, and that split-second drift in focus was all the advantage he needed to attack first. He lunged forward, swinging a fist the size of a ham toward Alex’s head.
Alex regained his concentration just in time to deflect the fist upward. Unfortunately, that was precisely what Callum had expected him to do—which is why his other hand was already coming in from a low angle, and smashed into Alex’s size with the power and momentum of a falling tree.
The blow’s impact tore a ragged groan of pain from Alex’s lips, and he wondered whether it might have broken a rib or two. He did not have much time to ruminate on that, though, for Callum was already aiming another punch at Alex’s head.
Alex had faced off against enough opponents Callum’s size to know that the best way to defeat them was generally to remain out of their reach until they depleted their strength completely. Otherwise, just three or four sizable hits from such a mountain-sized man might end the fight quickly and decisively.
Most men of Callum’s dimensions, however, did not move with his damnably catlike speed and grace.
