Page 23 of It’s in his Highland Kiss

“But you practise with real ones all the time!” Marion protested, her fury overtaking any embarrassment that was lingering after the eyeful that she had gotten. “You and Edan, and everyone else! I’ve only seen children practise with wooden swords here!”

Eiric sighed, as he always did when he thought that Marion was being difficult. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, refusing to back down and bow to Marion’s wishes, much to her displeasure.

“It’s dangerous,” he said. “There is nay reason for ye to practise with a real sword, because ye’ll never have to pick up a real sword.”

Eiric’s dismissiveness was driving Marion crazy. Her hands balled up into fists and her face twisted in a grimace of anger as she looked at him, tired of being viewed as so helpless. “Give me a sword,” she demanded. “A real sword. And I’ll show you what I can do with it.”

The two of them stared at each other in silence, neither Marion nor Eiric willing to back down. Eiric could be stubborn, Marion knew, but so could she. When had she last gotten what she wanted? When had she ever been given something that she desired? Her entire life had been spent quietly, and she had never demanded anything before, too afraid of confrontation to do so.

It’s time for me to get what I want, even if it is something as simple as a sword.

“Nay,” Eiric said in the end, which only served to frustrate Marion even more. Perhaps sensing her frustration, Eiric placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave her a small, reconciliatory smile. “I worry about ye. A real sword willna make any difference. Ye already ken how to fight.”

“I do,” Marion said. “And that is why I want a real blade.”

“Ye’re a stubborn one,” he said, but he sounded fond rather than frustrated. “Ye remind me of meself when I was a bairn, and I was just learnin’ how to fight. Do ye ken what happened when I was first given a sword?”

“No.”

“I almost gutted me faither,” Eiric said. “I was so excited to have a sword that I wasna careful.”

“I’m not a child,” Marion pointed out. “I can control my excitement just fine, thank you. How about this . . . give me a dull one. Give me a blade that can’t hurt anyone.”

Eiric looked at Marion then, a small, puzzled look on his face. He would tell her no, Marion knew, like he always did, and she was about to storm off when Eiric finally spoke.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine, ye can have a dull blade.”

Marion gasped. She could hardly believe her own ears, and she couldn’t stop herself from jumping into Eiric’s arms, wrapping her own around him. For a brief moment, they stayed like that, intertwined, before Marion remembered her place and pulled back quickly, her cheeks turning a bright red.

Stupid, stupid . . . what do you think you’re doing?

“I should . . . I should go meet me faither,” Eiric said, confirming her suspicions that she had been a fool to hug him. “I’ll see ye later.”

Eiric was gone before Marion could say a single word. She stared at him as he walked away, heart thumping and hands trembling, trying to will her legs to move.

She tried to focus on the bright side. Soon enough, she would have a real sword, and she wouldn’t have to deal with Eiric treating her like a child—at least not as much.

I’ll show him. I’ve already beaten him once. I can do it again.

Chapter Eleven

It had been six months since Marion arrived in Scotland, and so she had reached the end of her stay. Her return to England was imminent, and she feared the day that the laird would send her back home or her mother would write, demanding that she returned.

She didn’t want to go back; she never wanted to go back. Eiric and the rest of the clan had saved her from a life that she never wanted, and now that she was in the Highlands, she couldn’t imagine any other life for herself.

She belonged there; she belonged in Scotland. No one could convince her otherwise, not even her own mother.

What will I do? Eiric said I could stay forever if I so wish, but my mother . . . she’ll want me to return.

Not only that, but she also knew that her mother would want her to marry. In the six months that she had spent there, she had decided that she would not allow anyone to marry her off to a man that she didn’t want. If she were to be married, she would do so for love, not for a strategic alliance or money.

Her back hit the ground, and Marion’s breath left her lungs in a whoosh. A sword was suddenly pressing against the sensitive flesh of her neck, its blade too close for comfort.

Even though it was too dull to do any damage.

“Where have ye gone?” Eiric asked as he stood over her, a smug grin on his lips. He always had that grin when he managed to throw her to the ground while they trained, revelling in his victory.

Marion huffed and stood, ignoring the hand that Eiric had offered her. She dusted off her dress with her hands, her own sword clattering to the ground. She had finally been given a proper one, no matter how little damage it could do, and though it was heavier than she had expected, she had still managed to beat Eiric a few more times.