Page 19 of Tempting the Highland Captive

CHAPTERNINE

Ron followed Lucas out to the training yard along with the other fighting men of the clan that were not already on guard duty. By the look on the red giant’s face and the way that he carried himself, Ron was certain that given half a chance the older man would have gladly cleaved Ron’s head from his shoulders. Ignoring Ron’s presence, Lucas paired the men off against each other and commanded them to fight. Ron stood and watched each pairing closely, attempting to get a feel for the clan’s defenses. When he left for France, he did not want to leave Amelia and her people defenseless. They might only be married in name, but he cared enough about her to want her to survive. If they are going tae survive against the likes of Michael Rossell, they are going tae need all the help that they can get.

Ron had been trained by some of the best and most brutal warriors that he had ever had an occasion to meet, but it had been his mother who had taught him how to think and strategize. Life had taught him the rest and it had not been an easy lesson. It was this combination of skill and cunning that had made him quite deadly upon the field of battle. As he watched the men in action, he was impressed by the older warriors, but most of the younger men needed further training. All of them left room for some improvement.

When a young man almost barreled into Ron by clumsily avoiding his companion’s sword, Ron took the man up by his arms and hoisted him back into position. “Like this,” he instructed, taking up the young man’s training sword to show him how to do it properly.

“Ye think ye ken how tae fight better than my men?” Lucas growled, displeased with what he perceived to be Ron’s interruption of his training session.

“We can all learn more,” Ron answered diplomatically, not wishing to anger him further.

“Aye, but ‘tis nae yer place tae instruct my men.”

“They are Amelia’s men, are they nae?”

This caught Lucas off guard for a moment. “Aye, we all are tae the bone.”

“And as her husband, am I nae part o’ the clan now tae?”

Lucas cleared his throat, eyeing the men closest to them to see if they were listening to their conversation. Ron turned to look too and saw that they were. “Aye,” Lucas growled.

“Well then, does that nae grant me the same privileges and responsibilities as any man married tae a lairdess?” Ron could almost hear Lucas grinding his teeth in fury.

“It does,” Lucas growled just audibly enough to be heard.

“Shall we show them together then?” Ron asked, grasping the training sword more firmly in his hand, and faced off across from Lucas. It was not a menacing challenge, but an olive branch of sorts, intended to include the older man, but the grin that spread across Lucas’ face said that he intended to grind Ron into the ground at the first opportunity.

The red giant came at him with such fierce power that he would have knocked over a less experienced warrior. Ron evaded the attack and launched a counterattack of his own. The other men in the training yard ceased their practice to stop and watch. Ron and Lucas fought hard, each challenging the other’s abilities until at last after watching Lucas closely and evaluating his weaknesses, Ron got the better of the larger man and brought the fight to a startling halt with Lucas flat on his back in the dirt. “How?” he grunted out once he regained his breath a bit.

“Let me show ye,” Ron offered a hand to aid the larger man up off the ground.

Lucas nodded and faced off against him again. This time Ron took it slower, showing him where his weaknesses were and how to remedy them so that an enemy would not take advantage of them in the future. By the time that Amelia had joined Ron and Lucas to begin work on the village’s reconstruction, the two men had come to a grudging respect of one another.

“How was it?” Amelia asked them both as she brought them each a drink from the kitchen.

“Informative,” they both grunted out in unison, then barked out a short laugh at the other’s expense.

“He’ll do,” Lucas grunted, then giving Ron a nod, he went to gather his men.

Amelia smiled up at him as he took her hand in his. “You’ll do,” she echoed as they walked down to the burned croft site together.

* * *

Amelia laid out her plans of the village reconstruction for the men, giving Lucas a list of all the materials that they would need. Most could be provided by nature, but some would have to be purchased elsewhere. As most of the men had families to care for that they did not wish to leave so soon after a life-threatening event such as the fire, Ron volunteered to travel to the nearest town and purchase what was needed. The thought that he might take the money and run away to France briefly flitted through her mind, but she had believed him when he had said that he would not harm her or her clan. Lucas must have had the same initial thought as he caught her eye and shook his head.

“I will go,” he replied, taking a step forward.

“Ye are needed here,” Amelia answered, knowing that they could not be without their captain of the guard during such uncertain times. Turning to Ron, she handed him the small leather purse with the funds in it. “This should pay for what is needed, but nae a thing more.”

Ron took the purse and her hand with it. “I will nae disappoint ye,” he promised, holding her eyes with his. “I will return with all that is needed.”

Amelia nodded in consent and turned to Lucas. “See that he is properly outfitted with a horse and food for the journey. Lucas nodded and both men turned toward the stables.

Amelia watched Ron go with mixed emotions. Part of her had never wanted to see him again, but he had come for her. Part of her had wanted to be rid of him as soon as she could be, but he had stayed because she had needed him to. Now she did not know what she wanted, but as she watched him walk away, she had a sneaking suspicion that she never wanted to be parted from him again. Shaking her head in denial of her thoughts, Amelia began the long process of cleaning up the village. She worked until her hands were solid black from the soot. Her eyes watered from the remaining smoke. Her back ached, and she had more splinters than she could ignore despite every effort to do so. The men would have gladly done the job without her, but she had wanted to prove to them that she was capable of everything that her father had been, and more. She worked until she grew faint from need of food and rest, the night’s events catching up with her.

Releasing the men to go and clean up for the evening meal, Amelia walked down to the loch. She scrubbed at her hands, black soot and crimson blood mixing together to turn the water beneath them a unique shade of scarlet, brown. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she could not get the black stains out from beneath her fingernails and the whorls of her fingertips. She tried for a brief moment to squeeze the splinters from her hands to no avail. I will have tae take a knife or needle tae them. Too exhausted to care about it any further, she slumped down on the bank of the loch and leaned against a tree. She would need to return to the hall for supper before dark, but she could not quite convince her muscles to do as she asked. Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment and let the breeze blow over her heated face.

Amelia was not certain how long she sat there but was caught entirely by surprise when the voice of Michael Rossell broke through her reverie.