The Warrior Trainer (14 page)

   She closed her eyes, as if doing so would help her gather her senses. When she opened them again, her vision was clear and steady. "Since I would not agree to her plans of bearing a child as I am supposed to, has she asked you to seduce me into it instead
?”

   "A child?"

   "A daughter. I must have a daughter." She dropped her gaze to the floor. "Damn her," Scotia whispered, her voice raw. "It is my choice to make."

   Ian stepped over the rope and took her icy hands in his.

   This time she shook off his touch.

   "Look at me," Ian demanded. He waited until she brought her gaze to his. "Maisie has said nothing to me about your need for a child. I kissed you because I wanted to. There was no other reason."

   The uncertainty in her eyes cleared. "Truly?"

   He brought his gaze back to her lips and a familiar hunger crept over him. "Even though I know I should not, I want to kiss you again."

   "Nay." She moved further away. "That would not be
wise."

   "Neither is playing with fire," Ian admitted. "But I am finding it harder and harder to resist the flames of temptation."

   She gasped, but did not answer him with words. Her actions said it all when she turned and ran from the room. The warrior had fled the battle. The question was, did he want to pursue?

Chapter Twelve

   Scotia sank to her knees in front of the unadorned iron cross that stood at the far end of the castle's chapel. In this room she felt safe. For only a fool or the most determined of warriors would seek her out in the sanctity of a holy place.

   She drew in a breath of the cool, incense laden air, allowing it to seep inside her and calm the turmoil that one kiss from Ian had stirred inside her. Alone in her sanctuary, she let her hand slide from the hilt of her sword and pressed her tingling lips together, trying to blot out the memory of his kiss.

   When the action failed to bring the calm she longed for, she focused on the peaceful atmosphere of the chamber instead. The chapel seemed overly quiet without Father Colin's melodic humming. She missed him, as she had for the last five years when she had sent the old priest off to aid the oppressed and ailing among her people. Their need for his counsel far outweighed her own. Although at times like today, when her soul felt heavy and confused, she longed for his steadfast advice.

   Even in his absence, she knew Father Colin would warn her to tread cautiously around Ian, to avoid the unsettling longings he brought out in her. Her attention, her duty remained on the Stone—the reason for her existence.

   And the reason to bear a child, Maisie's voice echoed.

   Heat flooded Scotia's cheeks. She put her chilled hands against her face, dampening the uncharacteristic response of her body. This reasoning was getting her nowhere. She knew her obligation to bear a child just as intimately as she knew her reservations. How would she ever reconcile such a division within herself? Was it even possible?

   At least until Ian's training was complete, he would stay at Glencarron Castle. That would give her the time she needed to decide what she should do. She had time to weigh her duty against her own resistance.

   Scotia drew a heavy breath and studied the fading twilight as it spilled through the chapel's only window. It mixed with the candlelight to send shadows flickering along the handworked stone of the floor. In the peace of the moment, she rolled her injured shoulder forward and back. If only the slow, burning ache would ease, she could accelerate Ian's training.

   Weariness invaded her limbs. Is that what she truly wanted, to assist him in leaving her sooner? She sighed, the sound as torn as it felt. And behind that sound came another, yet not from herself. The shadows of the room shifted. Movement. There to her right. Scotia tensed and reached for her weapon. Sword drawn, she turned in a fluid motion that fractured the tranquility of the room.

   "Hold," came Ian's voice from the shadows. He took a step forward and she saw him then, standing in the aisle of the chapel. "Forgive the intrusion, but I could not leave things as they were between us."

   The memory of his mouth pressed against her own played across her mind. "There is nothing between us." In a brisk motion, she sheathed her weapon. "What do you want?"

   He smiled. "Straight to the point." His voice was warm and low. "That's fair. I shall try to be as accommodating." In the openness of the room, his voice seemed to reverberate all around her, playful, but with a purpose.

   "I am tired. I beg thee, make your intentions known."

   His humor vanished and raw impatience flared in his cool, dark eyes. "Release me from my training."

   The air around her became heavy and still. "You wish to go?" There was no reason to ask the question. She could see the answer in his eyes.

   "This day."

   Numbness shimmered across her flesh. She braced herself against the emptiness that followed. "I hold no power over you, Ian. You may leave if you wish."

   "It is not as simple as that." As he came forward, his jaw tightened. "I request your release from this obligation."

   "So it is still an obligation to you." She tried to hide the hurt in her voice, but failed.

   He brought his hand to her cheek. She held her breath, willing him to stop. He did not. He brushed his thumb along her jaw in a slow, gentle caress. "One of your scouting parties has just returned. They carry information that the Four Horsemen attacked another village. Their violence is growing, and I must stop them." With exquisite tenderness he trailed his thumb down the line of her neck. "I take no pleasure in abandoning my duty. But I must go. Now. Before I forget what purpose drives the course of my life."

   "I am prepared to send more of my warriors to fight the battles. It is what they've trained for."

   "Which will leave you with few men to guard your own walls."

   "I know what I am doing." Scotia pulled away from his touch, angry now, and grateful to feel something other than the confusion his nearness brought. "And you are avoiding the real issue here. Why do you want to leave? What is so important that it outweighs adequate training and preparation?"

   "What more could you teach me?" He towered over her, his large body blocking the light from the window beyond. Twilight dappled his broad shoulders and sent flickers of light dancing through the blond streaks of his hair. In the odd light she could barely make out his expression, but his eyes searched hers clearly enough. Determination stared back at her.

   She understood his need for escape. No warrior enjoyed being kept from battle, including herself. She vanquished the thought as quickly as it came upon her. Her duty to protect the Stone kept her behind the castle walls. For her, there was no other option.

   "
D
o you trust me?" The words tumbled out of their own volition.

   "Aye." His gaze softened, became sincere. His admission filled her with gratification. A warrior did not take trust lightly; its presence in battle could mean the difference between life and death.

   Her throat tightened. For an instant she considered granting his request. But the fact remained—he was not ready. Sending him off now could do more harm to him and others than good. "Then trust me when I say you are not ready to leave. There is more to learn." She was tempted to stop there, not to hit him where she knew it would hurt. Yet she continued in spite of herself. "You gave me your word that you would stay until your training was complete. Do not go back on your duty, your honor, now."

   A low growl came from his throat. "You challenge my honor?" Seconds clicked by and silence hovered between them. "I know my duty," he said finally. The intensity in his eyes darkened. "I shall stay."

   He had spoken the words she wanted to hear, but his eyes had lost their warmth. For honor he would stay until she released him, though he had no desire to do so. The realization stung.

   She tried to find her voice, to frame the words she needed to say. But how could words express what she had just this moment discovered?

   She needed him
with
her.

   Without him, she would once again be alone. The sudden understanding made her throat tighten further. She had never regretted isolating herself in the castle, making warriors who wanted training come to her as her mother and grandmother had before her.

   Somehow, over the years, she had forgotten what it felt like to have companionship. It was out of necessity that the memory had slipped away, she was sure now; the twist in her gut told her so.

   Scotia drew herself up, biting back the emptiness that threatened to consume her. She had to release him. She had to let him go.

   "Ian, I... I..." She tried to force the words.

   "I shall see you at supper." He cut her off with his brusque tone. Something in his expression shifted, and for a moment she thought she saw a flare of understanding in his eyes, but before she could be certain, he turned and left the room.

   Scotia swallowed hard, forcing back the sudden heaviness in her throat. He must have known what she tried so desperately to say. Yet he had given her a reprieve. She should be happy.

   A pang of remorse stirred within her. If this was what happiness felt like, she would be better off without it.

  
If she could not find the words a while ago, she would find them now. Scotia cast a wary glance at the man beside her at the head table in the great hall. Voices hummed around her, but she heard not a word. All her thoughts centered on Ian.

   She had made a terrible mistake. Never had she put her own needs before others. Now was not the time to start. If Ian wanted to leave, she would release him. I need no one, she reminded herself. Relying on others makes a person weak and vulnerable. Weakness can get a warrior killed. The words of her mother's training played over and over in her mind, but they did nothing to ease the emptiness that had invaded her soul.

   Scotia looked down at her untouched trencher. She had no stomach for food. She pushed her meal away and turned to the man beside her, feeling uncharacteristic nervousness creep upon her. "Ian." Scotia knotted her hands, then pressed them flat against the table instead. The time had come to say good-bye. Her gaze locked with his. "I made a mistake."

   A glimmer of hope sparked in the depths of his dark eyes. "About what?"

   "I release y—"

   "Mistress!" The doors of the great hall flew open, hitting the walls with a bang that echoed throughout the chamber, stilling the voices inside.

   As she had been born and trained to do, Scotia reached for her sword, then checked her movements. The interruption came from one of her guards, not a challenger.

   She wished the guard had chosen a better moment to interrupt, but realized he would not have burst in unless the matter was urgent.

   The guard halted before her, his breathing ragged, his youthful cheeks flushed. "There is something you must see at the front gate."

   Scotia released the hilt of her sword and pushed away from the table. "What is it, Keddy?"

   The young man shook his head. "You need to see this for yourself," he gasped.

   A flicker of apprehension coursed through her. Scotia stood, but she was not alone. Ian's chair scraped against the floor as he abandoned his own meal. "I shall come with you." He drew his sword as he tossed a look at his brother in the chair next to him. "Are you coming?"