“Maybe.” She said shyly.
“Ye are a beautiful woman, Ceana,” he repeated with a smile. His head lowered, and he smiled. Their lips drew closer, and Torcall...
“Ceana?” Alina’s voice came, giving them just enough time to draw apart before she stepped in.
“Ceana?” she said tentatively, stepping in between them. It was then that Ceana noticed Bridget behind at the entrance.
“She needed some air,” Torcall said.
“I see,” Alina muttered. She grabbed Ceana’s hands and marched her out of the room.
Bridget eyed Torcall and shook her head.
“I would think ye ken better than this. Bringin’ a young woman here alone!”
“She asked me to follow her,” Torcall replied. “She asked me.”
“Of course, that is what ye would say,” Bridget said, shaking her head.
“I--” Torcall began to say, but he was distracted by a rustle in the bushes behind him. He turned back but saw nothing.
“At least have the decency to face me and answer me,” Bridget said.
Torcall shook his head and walked away from the balcony.
Chapter Two
The courtyard was quiet, attesting to the earliness of the hour. The only people moving about were the maids in charge of cleaning the keep grounds.
It was not unusual for Torcall to be on the training grounds early. When working directly under the general, tardiness was not tolerated. His first son was a contemptible fellow who preferred to spend his time with unseemly things. In contrast, his second son was a master at creating swords, if not so much in wielding them.
However, while Tam was best described as a despicable wart, Rannoch was cool-headed and silent. It was with Rannoch that Torcall got along best; they had been friends ever since Dirk had brought him into their home upon the death of his Faither.
Torcall went round the back and stepped onto the training grounds. He knew that his uncle would be waiting.
“I ken ye wouldnae fail me and come here late,” his uncle said with pride evident in his voice.
“‘Tis nae a barrel of wine that would keep me from arriving here early as I have always done. “
“I wish I could say the same of Rannoch and Tam.”
“Rannoch will be here soon,” Torcall said, quick to defend his friend, and Dirk sighed.
“Tam is a disgrace to me,” Dirk said, never one to mince words. “Rannoch has a talent that pleases me. ‘Tis nae to say that I wouldnae rather he had yer quick wits in battle, but he makes swords fit for a king. Yet he does nae put enough time to the art of the battle.”
“Ye worry needlessly for Rannoch. ‘Tis nay crime if the man tries to spend time to master the sword he makes. “
“A man must ken how to defend himself,” Dirk agreed and tossed a sword to Torcall. Torcall caught it and took an expert stance that pleased his uncle as he drew his sword. “But a man must also ken where he excels. He does nae forget swords and more.”
Quick as a whip, Dirk aimed the sword for Torcall’s chest.
Torcall blocked the blow with his sword and stepped aside.
“Perhaps he does nae feel the burn to return to the forge as one would expect.” Torcall ducked and drove his sword at his Uncle’s flank.
Dirk blocked the blow with the blunt edge of his sword. “A man’s cause must give him the burn,” he replied.
Torcall brought his sword down on Dirk, who blocked it. The two men pushed against each other. “Perhaps he does nae feel it then?” he grunted.
