Page 33 of Stealing a Kilted Heart

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The air around Knox was filled with the sounds of steel against steel. His calloused hands gripped his sword tightly, the force of each blow reverberating up his arm and rattling his bones. His brow was coated in sweat and the day’s chill was almost pleasant on his heated skin.

Across from him in the training grounds, Magnus prepared another attack. Once again, their swords met when Knox parried it, each man taking a few steps back immediately after.

It had been a while since he had last trained with Magnus and he had missed it. Training on his own wasn’t as entertaining and training with other soldiers wasn’t usually a challenge like Magnus posed. He was one of the greatest soldiers the clan had ever seen, but it wasn’t only a matter of skill. He was one of the few who fought him with everything he had, not caring that he was the laird of the clan. Everyone else seemed too meek to Knox, too scared that they would hurt him.

But Magnus was always ferocious in a fight.

“What are ye daein’?” Magnus asked, huffing out a breath. “Ye’re distracted. If this was a real fight, I would have killed ye.”

It was true that Knox was distracted. It wasn’t simply the thought of Fia that kept his mind occupied, though that had plenty to do with the state of his concentration at that moment. What distracted him the most was, in fact, his concern over Alastair Gordon and the forces that had been spotted in their lands. Ever since that last report, they had received nothing else, neither from Callum’s group nor from the others, and Knox had started to become restless, wondering what it was that was keeping them from communicating. He had half a mind to go there himself, to see the camps with his own two eyes and maybe even stage an attack, but that was the impatience in him trying to take over. An attack on the camps would mean taking soldiers away from the castle, and he didn’t want to risk leaving it with fewer defenses and no laird when an attack was imminent.

“Again,” Magnus said, twisting the sword in his hand. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, Knox knew, and so he charged at him, their swords clanging once again in the morning air.

For a while, they traded blows, moving fluidly around each other. After years of practicing together, they could easily predict the other’s moves, each of them jumping out of the way just in time to avoid the other’s blade and trying to find new and increasingly innovative ways to attack in a quest for victory.

The more vicious Magnus became with his attacks, the more Knox managed to focus on the fight. He had no other choice; it was either that or hurtling towards defeat and no matter how distracted and preoccupied he was, he didn’t want to let Magnus win. It was an exhilarating fight. Knox’s blood thrummed in his veins and his heart beat fast, adrenaline coursing through him and filling him with excitement.

A cry tearing its way out of Knox’s throat, he attacked once more, his and Magnus’ swords meeting violently, the force of the blow pushing them far from each other. Magnus laughed, beating a hand over his chest, his cheeks flushed red with enthusiasm.

“That’s more like it!” he said, clearly pleased with Knox’s renewed efforts.

“If I didnae ken any better, I would think ye’re tryin’ tae kill each other.”

Knox glanced over his shoulder to see Bane there, standing at the very edges of the training grounds, watching, and a strange sense of duty overtook him. He didn’t want Bane to feel excluded, even if his concern was unwarranted, considering that he and Fia were the only two people in the castle who knew the truth about him. Still, an image invaded Knox’s mind—Bane, apart from everyone else, sitting all alone with no one around to turn to.

He couldn’t help but call him over.

“If we had real swords, we would have killed each other a long time ago,” Knox teased, turning his grin to Magnus. “Care tae join us, Bane?”

“Me?” Bane asked in surprise, clearly not expecting the invitation. Magnus seemed a little surprised, as well, though he said nothing on the matter. “Would that be alright?”

“O’ course,” said Knox. “Grab a sword.”

It wasn’t just the thought of Bane all alone and ostracized which had urged Knox to invite him to train. He also knew he had been unfair to him, constantly accusing him in his mind of trying to charm Fia and enter a relationship with her when he was simply looking out for her and being close to her like any brother would be. There was much for which he had to atone and the least he could offer Bane was his friendship.

After testing a few swords, Bane joined him and Magnus in the small, imaginary circle they had carved out for themselves. A few of the soldiers who were there gathered around to watch, all of them undoubtedly as curious as Knox was to see what Bane could do.

He was a peasant boy. Knox doubted he was very skilled with a sword, but with enough training, anyone could make a decent swordsman.

His assumptions were promptly proven wrong.

Bane moved like the wind, light on his feet and with a fluid quality to his movements, wasting no time before his first attack. Knox barely had the time to counter it, caught by surprise as he was by the sudden show of skill, but when he did, Bane didn’t give him the chance to counterattack or move out of range of his sword. He attacked again with deceptive strength, his sword clanging against Knox’s again and again as the two of them danced around Magnus.

It was yet another pleasant surprise. Knox would have never guessed that someone like Bane would be such a worthy opponent, and he caught himself laughing as he took a few steps back to catch his breath, Bane mercifully allowing it.

“Well… why were ye hidin’ such skill?” Knox asked, his chest heaving as he drew air into his lungs. “Are ye truly a blacksmith? Or are ye secretly a trained soldier?”

Bane laughed, shrugging a shoulder. “Trained, aye, but I’m nae soldier. I’ve never had any formal trainin’ like ye, me laird, nor have I been part o’ an army.”

“Perhaps ye should,” Magnus said, raising a curious eyebrow. “Ye have talent.”

“Would ye consider it?” Knox asked. “Joinin’ me army?”

Bane shook his head. “Nay. Forgive me, but me family is a family o’ blacksmiths. That willnae change with me.”

Knox raised his hands up in surrender, but the thought didn’t entirely leave his head. He understood Bane’s reluctance to leave the trade that his family had specialized in for years, but at the same time, he would be a fool to entirely neglect such a talented fighter. There were plenty of good soldiers in his ranks, men who were well-versed in the art of sword-fighting, but there was always room for one more.