“You’re lucky. I wish I had learned to fight.”
He almost laughed when she said that. The thought of her holding a sword, her willowy frame trying to balance a weapon of some kind, seemed almost ridiculous. But he held it back, not wanting to insult her.
“Oh, aye?”
She nodded.
“My father said it wasn’t right for my sisters or me to learn,” she continued, kicking a small rock into the pool in front of her. “Said that it wouldn’t do much to help us find a husband, so we never learned. If I’d known that he was just going to marry us off to whomever he saw fit…”
She fell silent again. He reached for the dagger that was slipped beneath the leather belt around his waist, and drew it into his hand, testing the weight of it. It might not have been much, but if it made her feel more sure of herself, he could give her that.
“Give me yer hand.”
“What do you mean?”
He reached down to catch her hand, drawing it up, so her palm was facing him. He pressed the handle of the dagger against it, and she stared down at it for a moment, clearly not sure what to make of it.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m showin’ you how to fight fer yerself, lass,” he replied. His hand was still over hers, the blade pressed against his wrist. Though he knew she would not try to harm him, it felt oddly vulnerable to allow someone to bear arms when he would have none.
“You don’t have to—I mean, that wasn’t what I was getting at…”
Her words trailed off as she gazed up at him. He couldn’t help but notice the softness of her hand beneath his, a hand that hadn’t done a day of work in her life, but that she wanted to harden. She wanted to do more with it.
“Feel the weight of it in your hand,” he murmured, and she paused for a moment then did as she was told, weighing it in her palm.
“Aye, like that. Tell me, how does it feel?”
“Heavier than I thought it would,” she confessed, as she tested it in her grip.
“Strike out with it. Push it forward.”
She hesitated, as though some part of her resented the idea.
“Think of someone who’s hurt you,” he ordered her, and all at once, her eyes darkened. Though he didn’t know exactly who had come to her mind when he had ordered her to do that, he had a good guess. She drew the knife back, and plunged it forward into the air, slicing through the quiet around them with a surprising strength. The intensity of her motion nearly threw her off-balance, and he dived forward to catch her, arm around her waist, the blade she held just a few inches from him.
“There ye go,” he chuckled. “We’ll make a warrior of you yet, lass.”
She smiled, and let out a small, slightly shaky giggle. As she righted herself, glancing down once more at the blade gripped in her hand, a heavy raindrop fell from the sky above them, landing on the upturned blade, and then another, and another. He tilted his head back, and sure enough, the sky was beginning to darken overhead. He grimaced.
“We need to go. Come on.”
“So soon?” she asked, sounding disappointed.
“It’s dreich,” he replied. “And it’ll only get worse. If we’re trapped out here in the rain…”
He trailed off. He could suddenly only think of the way she had been when he had first seen her; naked, drenched in water, her hair clinging to her back.
“Come,” he commanded her, steering her towards their horses. “Ye’ll ride with me. I’ll bring yer horse back, but we can’t take this slowly.”
She didn’t protest, thankfully, seeming to trust that he had her best interests at heart. He took the knife from her and slid it back beneath his belt. The handle was still slightly warm from where it had rested in her hand.
He helped her up onto his horse, sliding her into the saddle before him as he grasped the reins that were draped around Fern’s neck and tied them to the tack on his saddle. He would not leave the creature out here to be drenched, he could never have done that to such a magnificent beast. He knew how quickly this rain could come on, and how dangerous it could be to stay out here in the forest, even if you were sheltered by a canopy of trees.
They rode back to the Keep as fast as they could, the thundering hooves carrying them with a focused determination back to where they had come from, but they did not escapethe storm entirely. The clouds seemed to open above them, and heavy drops began to fall from the sky, creating a sheet of water that drenched them both.
She nestled herself back against him, retreating from the weather as best she could, but all Arran could think about was how she had looked under the river; the coolness of the water clinging to her naked body, how badly he wanted to see it again. He gritted his teeth and did all he could to keep his focus on what lay ahead of them, forcing himself onward, reminding himself that to get distracted under circumstances like this would be to condemn them both to death.
