Page 28 of It’s in his Highland Kiss

“How is it different?” Marion demanded. “Just because you’re a man?”

“Aye!”

It wasn’t just that, of course. It was different for him because he didn’t know what he would do with himself if Marion died. If she ended up dead, then he would have been the one to send her to war; it would have been his fault, her death would have been on his hands.

How could he live with that? How could he live, knowing that he had been the one to send her to her death?

“Just because I’m a woman, it doesn’t mean that I can’t fight,” Marion said with a frustrated huff, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.

“Dinna underestimate what other things women can do during a war, Marion,” Eiric said. “Ye dinna have to fight to be useful. Ye dinna have to risk yer life like that.”

“But it’s alright as long as you do it,” Marion said, her lips a thin line as she looked at him.

Eiric threw himself down on his bed, lying on his back as he covered his face with his hands. He didn’t want to argue with Marion, but it seemed to be too late for that already. Before he could stand once more and try to talk some sense into Marion again, he heard the door slam, and looked up to see that his chambers were empty, save for him.

She was gone. She had left without another word, and Eiric didn’t know what to do.

Should I go after her? Should I try to talk to her more?

He let his head fall back down onto the mattress, his mind swirling with thoughts. He had never wanted Marion to know that they were on the verge of war, at least not until there would be no hiding it anymore. In retrospect, it hadn’t been his brightest idea, as Marion was bound to find out sooner rather than later, but he had thought that he was protecting her.

He had thought he was doing the best for her.

Surely, his Mother would also try to talk some sense into the girl, Eiric thought. She would never allow Marion to do such a thing as fight in the war, and so he didn’t have to worry about her stubbornness too much.

What he worried about was the fight that they had just had. In the months that she had been in the castle, they had never fought before, especially not as viciously as they just had. It was strange, knowing that she was furious with him and that the chances of seeing her later that day were slim.

Eiric hadn’t spent a single day away from Marion all those months. She had been by his side every time that he trained and every time that he ate, every time he tended to his ravens and every time he went to the market, eager to meet his people and get out of the castle for a while.

Still, he wouldn’t apologise, as he had done nothing wrong, nothing to warrant asking for forgiveness. He had simply told Marion the truth.

Besides, one warrior would make little difference in the war. From what Edan had told him, they needed more men than they could gather, and it seemed to him that they were already doomed, no matter how much he hated to admit it. He even had reservations sending his men to fight that war, let alone Marion.

He would fight, because the fight was for his home. He would fight for the honour of every Scottish man and woman, and he wouldn’t rest until he got what he wanted. But that didn’t mean that he would put others in danger, not if he could avoid it.

Marion would change her mind in the end, he thought. She would come to see that he was doing what he had to do to protect her, and she would change her mind.

She hadn’t seen war yet; she hadn’t stared at an enemy blade.

Chapter Thirteen

Marion charged with a roar, her sword swinging wildly from her hand. Adaria was quick to stop her with her own though, the two of them dancing around the training grounds as they fought each other.

It was late at night, and the moon was high up in the sky. That was the only time that Adaria would agree to train with Marion, even though Marion was certain that everyone in the castle knew what the two of them were doing, but she couldn’t complain.

Adaria had taught her many things that Eiric couldn’t. With his mass and strength, his attacks were more direct, while Adaria’s were smarter, sneaky even. Adaria was fighting like a woman, and that was what gave her an advantage over the men.

“If ye charge at me, make sure ye stay low,” she told Marion. Marion paused for a moment, wiping a bead of sweat off her forehead and trying to catch her breath, while Adaria didn’t even have a single strand of hair out of place. “That’s where yer strength is, lass, in yer legs. Yer legs and yer back, nae yer arms.”

“I know,” Marion assured her. She knew that well, because Adaria had told her the same thing hundreds of times, and yet Marion didn’t seem to be able to follow it.

It didn’t help that she was furious. The argument she had had with Eiric had left her full of anger. It boiled up inside her, bubbling in her veins, and she could do nothing to expel it.

She hadn’t spoken to Eiric for days. Then again, he hadn’t made an effort to talk to her either, and so Marion didn’t think that she had any reason to try and strike up a conversation with him.

The entire argument was his fault. He’s the one who thinks I can’t fight because I’m a woman.

Of course, Eiric had also expressed his concern about her wellbeing, something that Marion hadn’t missed. She understood his concern, because she, too, had the same one; she worried that one day, she would wake up and find Eiric’s dead body in the courtyard, pulled into the castle grounds by his men.