Ainslee covered the woman’s hand with hers. “I understand. I cannae imagine the pain ye have gone through losing yer husband.” It would be the same pain she would have if something happened to Arran. “He would want ye tae be happy.”
Tears shone in the woman’s eyes. “I hope so. I am blessed tae have mah sons. They have kept me going all these years.” She cleared her throat, removing her hand and straightening her shoulders. “Come, let us go see wot yer husband is doing.”
Ainslee felt a thrill shoot through her body at the thought of seeing Arran. He had taken her only once after their initial consummation, and for that, she was grateful. He had been right about her soreness.
And though she would not admit it to him directly, her body already craved his touch again.
The women walked outside and down to the sparring ring, where the sounds of steel clanging and grunts filled the air. It was easy for her to pick out Arran amongst the rest, shirtless and sweating from the exertion. Her blood thrummed as she took in his strong form, remembering the way he had felt under her fingers. Would it always be like this, this craving that she could not shake?
She hoped so and even more, hoped that they would have many years to enjoy each other once this battle was done.
Arran bested his opponent and laughed as he clapped the warrior on the back, looking younger than she had seen him before. Here was where he was comfortable.
His eyes found hers, and the slow smile he gave her heated Ainslee’s blood. He also remembered what they had done last night.
“Wife!” he called out, sheathing his sword in the holder that was strapped to his back. “Came tae see if yer husband was truly who he said he was?”
“Och, away with ye,” his mother replied, waving her hand. “We came tae see the laird, not ye.”
Arran laughed, making his way over to the wooden posts that marked the sparring ring. “Och Ma, ye wound mah pride.”
She patted his cheek. “’Tis a pride that needs tae be wounded every once in a while, Son. Yer confidence is like mine.”
“And what say ye, Wife?” Arran asked, turning his gaze on Ainslee. “Do ye think I’m too far gone tae be saved?”
Ainslee didn’t know if it was the youthfulness of his appearance or the way his eyes did not hold the shadows she had seen there before, but in that moment, Ainslee knew her heart was going to be lost to Arran. How could it not be? In a lifetime full of hatred and hiding who she was, he had brought out something unexpected.
“Nay, Husband,” she finally said, realizing that he was waiting for her answer. “I dinnae think ye are far gone at all.”
He swept a bow before her. “Thank ye, dear wife.”
“But,” Ainslee continued, surprising them all, “perhaps ye do need tae spar with someone who isnae afraid tae draw yer blood, Laird.”
Morea laughed as Arran quirked a brow. “Truly?”
She nodded, grasping her skirts. “Care tae see wot yer wife can do?”
“Oh please, let’s,” Morea urged. The entire sparring ring stopped as Ainslee stepped inside, selecting one of the short swords resting against the fence. It had been a long time since she had sparred with anyone, her own da wanting her to know how to defend herself in case their keep was attacked.
It was the way she had gotten away from her intended all those years ago, though a broken shard of glass had been her only weapon.
“Och! The laird has found a worthy opponent!” someone called out, clearing the path.
“Aye,” Arran replied, his eyes sparkling with laughter as he beckoned her forward. “Wot will be the prize?”
She smiled at him coyly. “A kiss.”
“A kiss,” he said slowly as he drew his sword. “A kiss it is then.”
Ainslee lunged first, her da’s words coming back to her as she went for the weaknesses he had always told her to find on her opponent. Arran’s stance was guarded but he was far too relaxed, which left his flank open. Though she was holding a real sword, Ainslee had no thought to hurt him before he was to fight her brother. She landed an elbow to his side before skirting away, causing Arran to double over in surprise.
“That’s how ye do it, lass!” someone called out, the entire ring erupting in laughter.
Arran straightened, cocking his head to the side. “I’ve underestimated ye yet again, Wife.”
Ainslee passed the sword between the palms of her hands. “Nay, I just found yer weakness.”
They went on like that for twenty minutes or so, though the blows were never meant to hurt one another. Soon, sweat rolled down Ainslee’s back as her muscles grew stiff, and she held up her hand, unable to pick the sword up again.
