Page 66 of A Sinful Night with a Scot
“I dinnae want ye tae be forced intae that kind o’ situation again,” Keane said, his tone firm, but wary.
“Och, just teach her how tae fight, Keane,” Iseabail pressed. “Ye cannae be by her side every minute o’ every day.”
A pained expression flashed across his face at those words, and for a long second, he hesitated. Elsie had no idea how Iseabail had learned to fight. Perhaps it had been in her childhood. Clearly, Keane was reticent. But it was not because he didn’t want to teach her. Evidently, the idea of her being caught in a battle like the last one worried him greatly.
Eventually though, he nodded. “Fine. We can start tomorrow, now I am back tae me full strength.”
As promised, Keane and Elsie travelled to a secluded spot to train the next morning.
“Are we safe being away from the castle?” Elsie asked, once the horses had been tied to a nearby group of trees. “Are ye nae worried that Laird Gunn’s men might attack again?”
“Dinnae worry, little one,” Keane said calmly. “Our scouts report back on a regular basis, and nayone has been seen around these parts since the attack. We’ll be perfectly safe. Now,” he smiled, handing her a small broad sword, “let’s see what ye’ve got.”
The first thing Elsie noticed was the weight of the brutish sword, for unlike her dirk, it was hefty, even though it was short. “Goodness,” she said, swinging it around, trying to get a feel for it. “Now I ken why ye have shoulders like boulders.”
Keane burst into laughter at her remark. She had not purposefully meant it to be amusing, but she could not help but smile at his hearty amusement. Things had been so much easier between them since the attack, since she had chosen a side. The side of the man she knew she was falling in love with.
They had not explicitly spoken about their future. There had been many conversations about the clan. About Keane and what he valued. About Elsie and the fact that she now felt like the castle was her home. It was as though each had agreed in silence, that they were now together no matter what.
“All right,” Keane said, walking up behind her. “Widen yer feet.” He tapped his foot against hers, prompting her to move it. He then took a step closer, his body pressing against her back as his hands slid down her arms until they folded over her own as she gripped the sword.
“Now,” he growled in her ear, making her stomach clench, “lift the sword tae here.” He positioned the sword at her chest height, bringing her elbows back so it was only six inches from her body. “The sword is heavy. The closer tae yer body ye can keep it when ye are nae striking, the less tired ye will become.”
“All right,” Elsie breathed, struggling to concentrate with his proximity and the way he was speaking to her. In fact, when he let go and stepped back, she felt suddenly disappointed.
A few seconds later, Keane stood before her, his stance wide, his short sword held in front of him. Being much taller than she, he held his sword almost at waist height.
“Now. Strike,” he said.
“What?” Elsie gasped.
“Strike,” he repeated, lifting his eyebrows and nodding at her sword.
“But… but I might hurt ye,” Elsie cried.
Keane grinned and tried to swallow a chuckle, but failed. It made Elsie feel a little foolish.
“Dinnae be embarrassed, little one. Ye must remember. I have been training since I was old enough tae walk. Ye willnae hurt me. I swear.”
And thus, the sparring began. Elsie’s attempts were clumsy at first. She either swung to early, too late, or with such force that the weight of the sword spun her completely, leaving her facing the wrong direction.
She was able to laugh at herself, thus, Keane’s bellowing chuckles did not faze her at all. In fact, she was actually having a lot of fun. The swords clanged together several times, and settling into a rhythm, Keane nodded encouragingly.
“That’s it, little one. Ye’re getting the hang o’ it. Watch me feet, nae me shoulders. The direction o’ me feet will tell ye where I will strike next.”
For a while Elsie watched Keane’s feet, catching the slight tells of his next move. After a while, Keane said. “Now, look at me. Ye cannae gawk at someone’s feet the entire time ye fight. Ye have tae be able tae see the whole person and just sense it.”
Again, she did as she was instructed, and slowly, but surely, she felt as though she was getting the hang of the strategy Keane was trying to teach her. Throughout the training, Keane had not made her feel stupid once. In fact, he had been nothing other than encouraging and supportive.
Stepping forward and lunging, she finally managed a decent strike, and immediately, Keane feigned a huge groan, pretending she had struck him down, before collapsing dramatically on the ground behind her.
Elsie giggled a little, and then scolded him. “Och, would ye get up off the grass, fer goodness sakes. I am trying tae be serious here.”
But even before she had finished, Keane had grabbed her skirts and Elsie suddenly found herself unbalanced. Throwing the broad sword away from them, for fear she might give him another injury, she landed on his muscular body with a heavy thud.
“Are ye mad?” she cried, thumping his solid chest. “I could’ve killed ye.”
Keane grinned and, grabbing her wrists, he pinned her hands to her sides. “Ye’ve already killed me,” he growled, pulling her tightly to him so their faces were only an inch apart. “Ye kill me every time I see ye, fer me heart beats so hard, it nearly stops.”
