The Warrior Trainer (10 page)

   The challenger laughed as he strode toward her, his sword raised, his body tense. "Then you are a fool."

   "Perhaps." Scotia kept her body loose, preparing to absorb the blow she could see coming. Her injured shoulder could take some battering if only she kept the muscles relaxed. "Better foolish than dead. Which is what you will be in no time at all."

   His blade came down. A thunderous clang echoed in the night. Scotia easily blocked his assault. Before she could strike back the light of a torch flooded the garden, illuminating the intruder's face.

   "Griffin," Ian called out from behind her. She yearned to turn to him, but her instincts warned otherwise. Keep your eye on the enemy at all times, her mother had instructed over and over again.

   The intruder's eyes narrowed, then moved to Ian as he came to stand beside her, the torch in one hand, his sword in the other. From the corner of her eye she could see Ian's feet were bare, as was his chest. He wore only his trews and a scowl that looked both fierce and intimidating. She could not hold back the ripple of pleasure that having him by her side, as though ready to defend her, brought forth.

   The man he had called Griffin scowled. "Glad to see you, too, brother."

   Scotia froze. Regardless of her training to stay focused on her foe, she allowed her gaze to slide between the two men. These two were brothers? They could not have been more different than night from day. Where Ian was blond and fair, Griffin was dark and swarthy. Clearly they bore no love for each other. It was not what she had expected from two brothers.

   Ian planted the torch in the soft earth, then clasped his sword with both hands. "If you are here, where are Father and our clansmen?"

   "Back home where they belong."

   Ian's gaze grew dark. "With you gone there are only a few warriors left to protect the entire clan."

   Griffin's expression became dark and foreboding. "The Four Horsemen were sighted heading north. Our village is safe for now." He turned back to Scotia, his sword poised to strike.

   She braced herself to fight the intruder, be he Ian's brother or not. The violence in his gaze told her one thing—he meant to kill her. Fear crept past her guard, but she caught it, cutting the emotion off. After so many years, she knew herself well enough to recognize her own weaknesses. And family ties were her biggest failing of all. This man might be Ian's brother, but if she softened her resolve toward him, it could mean her death. She latched on to her sword, fighting the humanity that threatened to swamp her.

   Griffin swung his sword. She feinted to the right, easily avoiding the blow.

   "Griffin, what are you doing?" Ian asked, his voice both savage and controlled.

   "Claiming a birthright that is rightfully mine. Stand away, Ian," Griffin demanded, his hand tightening on his hilt. "I challenge the woman."

   "I doubt you could do so and live," Ian said dryly. "Go home, Griffin. You do not belong here."

  
The force of Griffin's wrath shifted from Ian to Scotia. "Not until I succeed in my challenge."

   "I hope you are used to disappointment," Scotia said, fully prepared to battle.

   Griffin slashed at her once more. Scotia caught the blade with her own, trapped it and threw it back, knocking her opponent off balance. He had skill, but she had more.

   "Scotia, nay." Ian stepped in front of her sword, concern written into the very texture of his face. "He knows naught what he does."

   With the tip of her weapon, she waved Ian back. "Then my task will be that much easier."

   Griffin regained his balance, and prepared to attack once again. "Stand down, Ian. I know exactly what I am doing."

   "You shall not harm her." Ian's face hardened.

   The warmth of Ian's words curled inside her, bringing an unfamiliar sense of security. "Do as your brother says," she said to Ian. "It will be but a moment's work to dispatch the man."

   Griffin charged forward with an angry cry, knocking Ian out of his way. "I'll show you."

   Scotia stood her ground and once again blocked Griffin's assault. She cleared her mind of all but the battle, keeping her steps precise, calculated for the most efficient use of her speed and strength. She wished to disarm Griffin, not send him to his grave. Perhaps when the first thrill of battle wore off he would be more reasonable.

   Griffin lashed out at her with his sword, their blades clashing. When she failed to yield, Griffin spun away, his face hard, his jaw squared, his eyes catching the glow of the torch and smoldering like embers in a fire. He lunged at her with a slash of his weapon.

   Without much effort, she blocked his attack. Griffin bared his teeth in a snarl and launched himself at her again. A stinging whip of metal on metal, then Scotia's blade sliced the flesh on his temple just above his ear. A dark ribbon of blood spilled from the wound, running down the side of his smooth-shaven jaw in rivulets that disappeared into the plaid at his shoulder.

   Griffin flinched and retreated, but Scotia followed, pressing her advantage. She had him now. He was hers. "Do you yield?" she asked.

   "Never to a woman." Griffin sidestepped and advanced again.

   Scotia shook her head. "The multitude of grave markers beyond the castle lay testament to how many times men have said those very words to me." Scotia met Griffin's blade with a forceful blow that locked with his sword at the hilt. She schooled her features to remain expressionless as she turned her sword to the left once, then twice, causing Griffin to gasp with pain. His wrist rolled, forcing the sword from his grasp. The weapon landed with a thud against the dirt.

   Griffin stared at her and the predatory light faded from his eyes. "We...are not done here," he said between ragged breaths.

   "Aye, but we are." Scotia bent down to retrieve Griffin's sword before facing him. "If you ever challenge me in such a way again, I shall kill you. Because you are Ian's brother, I shall let this indiscretion pass. But if you remain at my castle, you will never again approach me like a coward or a lowly thief in the night, but as a man." She turned away. "You may bed down in the stable tonight."

   Griffin pressed his lips into a thin white line and nodded.

   Scotia headed toward the doorway that led back to the castle. "Come, Ian, your brother has suffered enough humiliation this eve."

   Ian stared at his brother. Hard. Only the squared ridge of his jaw betrayed the control it took to keep his anger in check. "Go home."

   With the tips of his fingers Griffin dabbed at his wounded temple. "I want her secrets."

   "Killing her would truly have accomplished that task," Ian said through gritted teeth.

   Griffin shrugged. "Seemed like the shortest means to my goal. If I had bested her this night, I would have held the title as the best fighter in the land. Father would have had no choice but to recognize me as leader of our clan."

   Scotia paused in the doorway as the truth of Griffin's visit slipped out. She spun toward him. "So you think your father will make you leader of your clan if you kill me?"

   Griffin's silence was answer enough.

   She looked into his face, his eyes, his actions, searching for a small sign of regret or remorse. She saw only undisciplined, boyish pride. Scotia stifled her disappointment. The young man still had much to learn. "Leaders are made, not born. Remember that the next time you challenge me."

   Before Griffin could reply, Ian stepped forward, towering over his brother, his expression more somber than anything she had witnessed yet. "You are lucky she did not kill you. Try that again, and it will be my sword, not hers, that sends you to your end."

Chapter Nine

   Darkness covered her way as Scotia headed back inside the castle and into the great hall. Each step put the newcomer and the anger she felt toward him further from her mind. Ian's brother had dared challenge her in her own castle as she slept. Had the codes of noble behavior and honor disappeared along with the desire of her countrymen for training?

   Still angered by the exchange, she entered the great hall and wove her way through the rows of straw pallets strewn across the floor, where members of her household lay sleeping. Soft snores punctuated the silence of the night. A fire in the hearth cast a gold-red light throughout the room, making it easy to locate what she sought. A tankard of ale would help calm her nerves, though the footsteps behind her warned that Ian followed. When he was around, her nerves were anything but calm.

   Scotia grabbed an earthenware jug filled with ale and a wooden tankard from a nearby table, then wove her way back through the hall to the door. Outside once more, the cool night caressed her skin as she took a seat on the wooden stairs near the door. Ian sat next to her, his hip brushing hers. An overwhelming urge to lean into him seized her, but she scooted away, refusing to acknowledge the melting effect this brief contact had upon her.

   "Are you well?" Ian asked, his tone solemn, his body tense beside her.

   She did not want to speak about Griffin. Not until her anger lessened. She feared she would say something she might later regret. Instead, she filled the tankard with ale, then drank. When she had finished, she refilled the cup and handed it to him.

   "I wonder which is worse," she asked, breaking the silence between them, "having family that acts without honor, or having no family at all?" The topic seemed safe enough.

   She felt him relax as he returned the tankard, obviously finding relief in her avoidance. "The worst day with a family is better than the best day without."

   Scotia poured herself another cup as she pondered his words. She had to agree, but thought his statement odd coming from a man who had grown up in the thick of his clan. "What would you know of such things?"

   "I have been with family longer than I have been without. Even so, the memories of being alone still remain."

   Scotia nodded more to herself than to him. She knew the feeling of loneliness well. Even in a castle surrounded by people, she often felt an emptiness that, when stirred, bordered on panic. She risked a glance sideways. He looked not at her, but at the night sky.

   "I am sorry about my brother." The statement implied so much more than he said.

   She returned her gaze to the stars above. "You do not control his actions."

   "Regardless, he had no right to challenge you in that way."

   She shrugged into the darkness. "I am used to challenges, Ian. Your brother has much to learn before he would become a threat to me."

   "Then you really mean to train him?"

   "If that is what he chooses, aye. It is my obligation."

   "Is the security of your castle your obligation as well?" Ian asked.

   "Aye." Everything within the castle fell under her care. It was a huge burden, but she would not tell him that.

   "Then there is a breech somewhere for Griffin to enter unnoticed." There was no censure in his voice, only honesty.

   "He did not enter without my notice," she admitted. "There is only one other way inside these walls besides the front gate. How he knew to enter there I do not yet know."

   Ian shifted beside her. "I shall look into the situation with Griffin if you agree that I might."