The Warrior Trainer (31 page)

   "At first light."

   "Then there is still hope of catching up to her before she gets herself killed. Why could she not stay here and remain safe?" he cursed.

   "She's a warrior, Ian. Even female warriors need to battle when their souls are on fire." Maisie crossed her arms over her chest in a look that dared him to argue.

   "When I find her I intend to give her plenty to battle, namely me."

   Maisie smiled. "Yer father was right to send ye here, Ian MacKinnon."

   Ian narrowed his gaze. "What do you mean?"

   "We'll discuss it when ye return. Scotia needs ye now."

   Ian nodded. More than anything he wanted to find Scotia and convince her to return to safety. "I shall need a fresh horse."

   "There are horses already saddled and waitin' in the courtyard for ye and the men in yer company." At Ian's surprised look she added, "We watched ye approach. That is why the gates were open."

   "Then you are not alone here?' He had yet to see anyone besides Maisie.

   "The others are here. We are workin' on another of Scotia's plans." When he opened his mouth to ask her what that plan might be, she shooed him away with her hands. "Go. Be gone. Ye have yer own tasks before ye. All will be explained when ye return with Scotia."

   "The White Horseman is on his way here, Maisie. Are there enough men left at the castle to protect you, Lizbet, and the others

   "I've no intention of surrenderin' this place to anyone until Scotia returns."

   "I shall leave the new warriors I brought from Lismore here to help guard the castle. The Ranald warriors will come with me."

   "As you wish," Maisie agreed.

   Ian nodded. Then with quick and sure steps he made his way outside to where the fresh horses waited. The sooner they found Scotia, the better it would be for all of them.

  
Scotia wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and leaned against the edge of the pit she had helped to dig. The scent of freshly turned earth surrounded her, and the trench she and her helpers had dug surrounded the village. They had been working before dawn to create a fortification that would give them an advantage over the Four Horsemen.

   Since her arrival yesterday, she and the clan leaders had put a three-part plan into place. The trench would serve as the first obstacle the army would have to overcome. Those who made it across the trench would then have to make it through the mounded dirt that held sharp, deadly spears; get past a row of archers; then meet the warriors with swords before they would ever reach the women and children Scotia and the other warriors tried to protect.

   The arrangement was the best they could do without the protection of a castle. Even if she could lead these people back to her own castle, they would be more vulnerable on the open road then they were here, tucked beneath the trees.

   She would triumph over the Horsemen and end their tyranny with the help of these people. The time had come to end the battle over the Stone of Destiny.

   The thought of the battle ahead sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. She could honestly say she was not afraid. Had she not trained for this purpose her whole life? And even though she was no longer near the Stone, she had no regrets about her decision to be among her people. Ian had taught her that. If she were ever to expand her sense of her own people, and have them come to know her as a trainer and not just a warrior to best, she had to be among them, experiencing their joys, their triumphs, their defeats.

   As she looked out at the grassy fields before her and the hills beyond, her world had never seemed quite so expansive. There were no walls to confine her or boundaries to hold her captive to her duty. Only wide open spaces that seemed to go on forever.

   Scotia resumed her work of scooping the soft, loamy dirt into a wooden bucket, then dumping it at the edge of the trench in an ever-growing mound. But even the hard, physical work could not take her mind from those last moments with Ian. The bucket shook beneath her fingers as she filled it once more, and she cursed herself for a fool.

   She had to stop thinking of him. How else would she ever move forward? Ian was her past. Scotland's people and their independence were her future.

   "Thinkin' about Ian again?" Burke asked from the edge of the trench.

   "Not if he were the last man alive." Scotia frowned at her steward. Were her thoughts so easy to read these days?

   "Come out of there," Burke called. "The trench is done. The men want to cover it with branches and leaves before it grows dark." Burke's gaze moved across her dirt streaked knees and fingers. "Give me yer hand. Ye need t
ae
rest for a bit." He held out his fingers. She accepted them, then pulled herself out of the depths of the trench by her own efforts.

   "Ye've been workin' since first light."

   Scotia brushed the dirt from herself. "Many hands will make the work easier and faster."

   "The scouts ye have posted beyond the village have yet t
ae
report any activity. Surely, there is time t
ae
take a short rest."

   Scotia shook her head. "We must keep going, until all is complete."

   "Then let me help, too." Burke picked up several branches from the piles left around the trench, then carefully spread them over the open area. With everyone helping, it did not take long to conceal the trap, and they soon found themselves back in the center of the village before a great fire. Over the flames, a stag roasted, sending the intoxicating fragrance of richly roasted meat through the village.

   Scotia ate sparingly. As had been the case since Ian's departure, she found she had little interest in food or drink. All around her were sounds of the villagers celebrating their success in setting a trap for the Horsemen. The noise eddied and swirled but passed her by, leaving her filled with restless energy. She paced back and forth at the edge of the gathering, unable to remain still for long.

   At the snap of a twig, Scotia spun toward the woods, searching the thin row of trees to the south. In the hazy purple light of dusk she saw a young boy who had been gathering branches in the woods running toward the village. His footsteps echoed the sudden frantic beat of her heart. Her muscles tensed, and she reached for her sword.

   "Six men on horseback are coming," the boy called out as he skidded to a stop at the edge of the trench. Several leaves that covered the trap fluttered and swirled at the force of his movement.

   "Do you recognize any of them?" Scotia asked as she shifted a large platform of wooden planks over the trench for the boy to cross safely into the village.

   "Nay," the boy panted. He ran over the makeshift bridge then helped her to pull it back. "But the man who appears to be their leader wears a plaid of red and green and blue and white."

  
Ian's plaid
. Scotia's gaze swung from the boy to the figures riding ever closer. A hush fell over the village.

   "Should we get the crossbows?" one of the villagers asked. The men, who had celebrated only moments before, prepared for battle.

   "He be friend, not foe," Burke spoke from near her side in a voice that held as much surprise and wonder as Scotia herself felt.

   The village once again grew deathly silent as Ian and the men drew close enough for Scotia to see the easy smile slip across Ian's face—a smile that brought out the dimple that intrigued her so much. Until that moment, Scotia had thought she remembered exactly what he looked like, but she had not.

   They had been apart only a few days, but she had forgotten the way his linen shirt clung to his wide shoulders and the muscles that lay shadowed beneath. His angular face held an arrogant handsomeness made all the more sensual by that dimple at the side of his finely sculpted mouth. And his eyes—at one time they had been filled with uncertainty. Now, blatant determination shone in their depths, making her catch her breath at the intensity of his look.

   Scotia stared at him in mute fascination as the muscles in her throat struggled to say something intelligible to him, to greet him, or chastise him, she knew not which her heart wanted more. So she merely watched him as he approached with no words, only hope.

   Until she remembered the trap.

Chapter Twenty-six

   Ian entered the village just as dusk descended over the land. He forced his eyes to remain open despite the fact he'd had very little sleep in the past two days. From atop his horse he searched the village for a glimpse of Scotia. He spotted her tall form immediately at the edge of the crowd that gathered near a blazing fire pit.

   He knew the moment she saw him. Her eyes went wide, and a hint of a smile pulled at the corners of her lips. A moment later, any pleasure he might have imagined there vanished, replaced by a somber expression. Those gathered near her must have noticed a change in her. The soft rumblings as they talked settled into a silence that left only the whisper of the wind to greet him.

   "Good eve," he said as he brought his horse closer to an area strewn with leaves. He urged his horse forward.

   "Halt," Scotia demanded.

   Ian pulled back on the reins, bringing his mount to a sudden stop, forcing the men behind him to do the same. The animal pranced sideways in protest of the motion. "I wish to speak with you, Scotia."

   "Wait a moment." She and the young boy next to her pushed the makeshift bridge over the fallen leaves. "Now, you may cross."

   Ian lead his horse over the wood. As he did he heard the soft snap of a branch beneath the plank and knew Scotia and the villagers had prepared a trap against the approaching danger. On the other side of the wooden bridge, Ian brought his horse to a stop. He dismounted without taking his gaze from Scotia.

   The men, women, and children of the village stared at him. He nodded his head in greeting, but saw little of them. He had eyes only for Scotia.

   She was dressed in her armor, and she had changed from the skirt Maisie had made out of his plaid back into her usual red skirt. She remained still as he approached her. If he were not mistaken, he saw a slight tremor run through her before she set her chin a little higher.

   "I thought you were returning to your clan?"

   Her face remained expressionless. He had so many things he wanted to say to her, so many words he had rehearsed during his journey here, but none came to him now. He wanted to pull her warm, yielding body against his and tell her how scared he had been when he thought she would have to battle two of the Horsemen alone. But more than anything he wanted to hold her in his arms and never let go. "I had to make certain you were safe."

   A flicker of hope brightened her gaze before she caught herself and schooled her features into a bland, expressionless shield once again. "As you can see, I am quite well."

   Fear and longing shimmered through him. He wanted to express those feelings now and give them a voice. But as he opened his mouth to speak, he looked around him at the interested faces of those gathered near. An elderly woman clutched a wrap about her thin shoulders, her eyes wide with interest. A young girl of no more than three held her older sister's hand. Together they stood beside him, their gazes filled with curiosity. Burke stood nearby, but at a distance from the rest, simply watching the two of them with a confident, knowing smile. Even the burly men he had gathered together to protect her from the Isle of Rum leaned in toward them, eager to catch whatever words he might choose to say.