“Mistress Katrin, have ye ever been in the midst o’ a battle?”
“Nay.”
“The clamor, the fury—the dying. I do not think ye would like that.”
“Does anyone? Do ye?”
He shrugged. “There are men who glory in their abilities.”
“But women should no’?”
He shook his head slowly.
“Fine, then.” Katrin grew angry now, and embarrassed. “I will ask someone else.”
“Mistress Katrin, I still have not refused.”
“Och, I think ye have.”
“There are practical considerations. There is nowhere here that lessons could be pursued privately, without your father knowing.”
“I thought the armory. At night.”
His lips twitched. “Because no one could hear swords beating against one another in the armory.”
“’Tis a bad plan. Ye ha’ made yer feelings clear.” Again she turned away.
“Why do ye not just ask your father for training?”
“I have done. He refuses.”
“He does not wish to see ye hurt.”
“I understand that. But if I had been there on the practice field with Geordie—” She caught herself.
The Gallowglass sighed.
“My quarters,” he said.
“Eh?”
“There is not a lot of room, but if I turn the cot against the wall and we bar the door, it may suffice. Any passersby may think I am working on me own.”
She stared at him. This time his tawny eyes were full of light. “You will train me? Yersel’?”
“Did I not say I was at your command?”
“Och, but—”
Katrin’s thoughts ran swiftly. What had she thought? She had imagined he might assign to her some underling. A junior member of the troop, perhaps. But these men were all hardened warriors.
To go alone to his hut—if she were seen, folk would think only one thing.
“Ye realize,” he went on, perhaps assuming her acquiescence, “we may have little time. As soon as your father’s laird calls, we will be away to the fight. I will be away.”
“Then we had best act quickly. Tonight?” It felt all at once as if she propositioned him—in a way, she had—and her cheeks burned. “I am sorry if this will cost yer sleep.”
He gave her another slight bow. “Mistress, some things are worth losin’ sleep.”
