Page 72 of Kilted Abduction
“Like I said, I am well trained,” he replied. “Are ye all right?”
She nodded. “Aye. I’m fine,” she whispered, but she continued to stare at him with a mixture of fear and awe on her face. He couldn’t tell her why he’d been able to anticipate their moves so well. He wanted to, wanted her to understand and not fear him, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t for her to know.
She reached up and gingerly touched the shallow wound on his neck, making him wince. It wasn’t a bad wound at all, but it stung. She grimaced and Magnus could see how scared she was that the wound could have been worse. Any deeper and it might have killed him.
“Ye’re wounded,” she said softly.
“I’m fine,” he replied. “’Tis just a scratch.”
She frowned. “Come. We should see about gettin’ ye fixed up all the same.”
Magnus nodded. “Aye. We should see tae the wounded as well.”
The sounds of battle that had been raging through the castle had dimmed. It seemed that the worst of the fighting was over. Magnus assumed they had repelled the attack. Ciara looked at the carnage on the corridor floor, horror and sorrow on her face.
“Fairfax’s men,” she said.
“Aye. It’d be me guess as well.”
She looked at him with a dry expression on her face. “I dinnae want tae say I told ye so?—”
“Then ye shouldnae,” he cut her off with a grin. “Come. Let’s go find everybody else.”
Hand in hand, they walked down the corridor and Magnus let out a breath of relief. He’d come so close to losing Ciara that pain and fear continued to echo through his heart. He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t. In that moment, Magnus silently vowed that he would do anything, even lay down his own life, to keep her safe.
She was all that mattered to him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Magnus stepped into the walled practice yard to the sound of ringing metal and grunts of exertion. He paused and leaned against a pillar, folding his arms over his chest as he watched Ciara spar with Calum, their master of arms. She whirled and thrust the blunted training blade. Her strike was quickly parried by the skilled swordsman, but in one fluid movement, Ciara spun and slashed with the edge of the sword, striking Calum across the midsection. He laughed then applauded her.
“Ye’ve got some skill with the blade, lass. Some skill indeed,” Calum said. “Well played.”
“Thank ye,” Ciara replied and used a rag to wipe the sweat from her brow. “But I feel ye were goin’ light on me.”
A small smile flickered across the man’s lips. “I wasnae goin’ light on ye, me lady?—”
“I’ve kent ye most of me life, Calum,” Magnus interrupted with a chuckle. “I ken how ye fight. Ye were goin’ easy on the lass. Dae it again and dae it fer real this time.”
Calum looked abashed. “Aye, Maister Magnus.”
Ciara looked from Magnus to Calum with a glimmer of triumph in her eyes. She tightened her grip on her sword and took up a fighting position as she readied herself. The master of arms moved back to his starting position and raised his weapon. With a shrill cry, Ciara rushed forward, the blunted point of her blade leading the way. Calum parried the thrust and seemed to anticipate her next movement when Ciara spun to her left to deliver a slice across his midsection just as she had the last time.
Calum was ready for it though and easily blocked the intended blow. He seized the initiative and spun around, slapping her on the backside with the flat of his blade, drawing a pained and surprised squeak from Ciara. She spun around, her face red, and her eyes wide. From his spot against the pillar, Magnus laughed heartily.
“Yer form is good, but ye need tae mix up yer movements,” Magnus said. “’Twas Calum who taught me that. Tae never let yer opponent anticipate yer next movement.”
“Aye,” Calum said. “If they ken what ye’re goin’ tae dae next, they’ll parry the blow and deliver a killin’ blow themselves. As I just did.”
Ciara frowned. Magnus could see she didn’t like losing. That was something he could not only relate to, but something he admired about her. Stepping away from the pillar, Magnus took the practice blade from Calum, who stepped back, and squared up to Ciara.
“Again,” he said as he raised his blade. “And remember, be unpredictable.”
Ciara licked her lips and waded in. She feinted to the left but came back around to the right to deliver a strike to Magnus’ ribs. But he was ready for her and caught her arm, twisting it hard enough that she cried out and dropped the sword. He quickly let go of her arm. She rubbed it and looked at him with an expression of frustration on her face.
“How’d ye ken the way I was goin’ tae move?” she asked.
“Ye showed me the way ye’d be movin’ by the way ye were leanin’. Ye gave it away.”
