Page 33 of Kilted Sins

Enya had woken up that morning, dressed in comfortable clothes she didn’t mind ruining, and gone to the training grounds to find Archibald, only to see that he wasn’t there. Instead, Cillian stood there all alone, idly swinging a sword around in lazy practice.

When she spoke, he looked up and frowned a little, lips pursing into a thin line.

“Archibald isnae feelin’ well,” he said. “He asked me if I could train with ye.”

That connivin’ creature! That was his plan all along!

Archibald had never intended to train with Enya, she now realized. He had been just fine the previous day when Enya had last seen him, showing no signs of any illness or even discomfort from the cut on his palm. From the very start, it had been nothing but a ploy to get her closer to Cillian and he hadn’t even managed to hide his excitement for his schemes.

Enya cursed him under her breath. Archibald had no right to interfere, even if he thought he was doing a good thing. Had he not seen how uncomfortable she and Cillian were around each other? Had he not noticed they had both been avoiding each other for days, never once being in the same room?

He probably had, Enya thought, and that was precisely why he had done it.

Being all alone with Cillian after days of not seeing him was jarring, sending her heartbeat into an erratic, syncopated rhythm. Her chest constricted, as though a terrible weight rested over it, choking her and threatening to crush her completely. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was just as agonizing for him to see her, even if on the surface, he seemed largely unaffected.

If the fact that he could not meet her eyes was any indication, Enya would have to think this nonchalant attitude was nothing more than a carefully constructed act.

“Well, thank ye, but I think I shall wait fer Archibald tae feel better,” Enya said. “I’m sure ye have more important things tae dae than train with me.”

For the first time since Enya stepped foot in the training grounds, Cillian looked at her, staring her right in the eyes with an exasperated expression, as though she was the source of all his troubles, despite her clear attempt to release them both from this torment.

“Ye ken that willnae happen,” he said. “When I saw him this morn, he wasnae ill. Ye asked tae train, so let us train.”

This only confirmed Enya’s suspicions that Archibald was behind all this. Still, Cillian could have pretended to believe him instead of pointing out the lie and insisting to train with Enya. It would have been an easy way out for them both.

Reluctantly, Enya walked over to the box of weapons at the far end of the area and grabbed a few different swords, testing their weight. In the end, she settled for one of the lighter ones and dragged the tip against the ground as she took her position across from Cillian, the sound grating in her ears. She had to make sure her displeasure was known.

Why did he have tae insist? After what happened the last time, how could this go any better?

“Nay stealin’ this time,” Cillian said and for the first time that morning, a hint of amusement colored his tone. Though Enya didn’t know what to make of the changes in his mood, it put her a little more at ease, lifting some of that weight that had settled on her chest.

“Will ye admit defeat if I best ye?” Enya asked, the unspoken challenge clear in her voice.

“Ye willnae best me,” was Cillian’s response, and had not Enya been determined to do her best before, she certainly was now.

For a few moments, the two of them circled each other, gazes locked and hands grasping the hilts of their swords tightly, neither of them willing to make the first move. It was Cillian who finally took the first step, moving closer to Enya and swinging his blade with barely any force behind the movement, just to test what she would do.

Enya was quick to deflect the attack, the first clang of their swords echoing in the training area. Now that they were all alone, with no spectators around, it felt as though she had Cillian’s undivided attention and the feeling was almost suffocating. The way his gaze rested heavy on her, the way she received the full weight of his awareness, it all served to throw her momentarily off her rhythm. Never had another person looked at her like this before. In a way, it felt even more intimate than the quiet, charged moments they had shared with each other.

“Ye told me tae keep me hand higher, but ye dinnae take yer own advice,” Cillian said as he nudged Enya’s blade higher with his. Only then did she notice that her form had shifted, leaving her largely unguarded without her noticing. The effect Cillian was having on her was rather concerning. It was the first time she had ever become this distracted in the middle of a fight, even if the stakes were truly low.

“Dinnae fash,” Enya said, raising her hand higher. “It willnae happen again.”

Cillian chuckled, the sound just loud enough for Enya to hear it. While she was distracted by it, he attacked again, only this time, it wasn’t an attack meant to test, but rather to disarm. At the last moment, Enya sidestepped him, moving out of his reach before he could deliver the blow.

“Ye’re fast,” Cillian said. Already, sweat beaded at his forehead, glistening under the scant morning light. “An’ ye have good technique. But ye need tae work on yer strength.”

“Work on me strength?” Enya asked and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Dae ye think I could ever be as strong as ye or yer men? I cannae beat ye with strength, but I can still beat ye.”

Her certainty that she could defeat Cillian seemed to be what bothered him the most. Enya found that she enjoyed riling him up like this, though, using even the smallest things against him. What had once been a desire to anger him so that he would send her back home and disobey the king’s orders had now turned into a desire for competition—perhaps even a desire to prove herself to him and show him she had the skills to back up her claims.

“I’d like tae see how ye plan on doin’ that,” said Cillian and before he had even finished his sentence, he attacked again, only for Enya to sidestep him once more. She wanted to tire him out, to lower his defenses before she even made an attempt to attack, though that was easier said than done. Maybe her best bet would be to frustrate him instead, she thought, to the point where he would be so desperate to win that he would make a mistake.

When Enya avoided his attack again, Cillian huffed impatiently, already worked up after a few mere exchanges. Enya smirked at him and his eyes narrowed as he regarded her, the first few hints of irritation making their appearance. Still, he said nothing and only began to circle her again, taking his time now as if knowing Enya would continue to avoid him.

He’s clever. I cannae reduce his skills tae mere strength.

There was something about knowing just how good Cillian was with a blade that had heat pooling in Enya’s core. Watching him wield his sword, the flexing of his muscles visible even through the sleeves of his shirt, quickened her breath and forced her to swallow in a dry throat. She couldn’t deny it any longer, this attraction that had been building inside her ever since she had begun to get to know Cillian a little better and saw there was a gentler, kinder side to him than the one he had shown her that first day.