Page 23 of Saved By the Highland Beast
“And what were swords made of before they were made of steel?” Sophia asked as she gently aimed at Cillian’s side with her wooden prop. Her other hand was kept above her head for balance.
Cillian dodged the attack as she parried again. “Swords were made with copper,” he hesitated for a second. “Before other metals were added.” He spun around with a tiny giggle and tried to slash her side but missed. “It made the blade softer in parts and harder in others, giving it more flexibility.”
Dean marveled at the animated way his son spoke to her as they play-fought with the swords. He’d never seen him this excited about anything to do with his schooling. Cillian had not only sat through five hours of studies, but he seemed to be enjoying it. Letting the door swing open slightly wider, the laird leaned against the frame and watched.
“How many kinds of metal are usually used to make blades?” Sophia asked Cillian with a laugh, thrusting her leg out and pretending she was going to stab him.
There was something about the way her laugh floated through the air like a gentle summer breeze that made Dean stand to attention. He caught himself smiling at the scene despite himself. She was absolutely radiant when she laughed.
Cillian thought for a second but quickly aimed his sword at her heart. “Three. Bronze, steel, and iron. But there are many forms of iron.”
“I’m impressed!” Sophia laughed as she danced around the tip of the blade.
Dean watched as she twirled, and her soft curls fell around her face. Her cheeks were pink and flushed from all of the movements, and her chest rose and fell with every breath, inadvertently drawing his attention to her perfect breasts.
“Very quickly.” She struggled for breath. “Our time is almost up. What is three divided by two?”
Cillian watched her sword as his nose wrinkled in concentration. “One and a half!” he yelled as if it were a battle cry and thrust his sword at her side.
“You got me!” Sophia moaned and fell to her knees, faking her very painful death. She pressed his sword to her side beneath her arm as she leaned to the left. “I have lost… the victory of this lesson…” She took a dramatic breath. “Goes to thee, fair knight…” she trailed off as she keeled over onto the carpet amidst the wooden blades and shields, letting her mouth fall open and flopping her head to the side.
The boy erupted in fits of laughter. “That’s the worst death I have ever seen!”
“It is not!” Sophia protested, lifting her head, before lying back down and letting her tongue stick out the side of her mouth.
Cillian cracked up once again before turning to the door and spotting his father. “Faither!” he yelled and ran over.
Sophia quickly looked up and got to her feet, dusting herself off with a sheepish look on her face. “My laird, we were just finishing our lesson.” She clasped her hands in front of her and looked at her feet.
“I can see that,” Dean said with a nod. He was still utterly surprised and taken aback by the fact that his son had taken to a tutor and actually seemed to have learned something in the process.
“Faither,” Cillian asked with a hopeful look in his eyes, “do I really get to go an’ practice swords with Anthony now?”
“That depends on Miss Harrison’s report.” Dean looked at her with his eyebrow raised, using his arm to push himself off the door frame.
“I am happy to report that all five hours were accounted for today, my laird.” She curtsied happily to them both. Her breaths still came in torrents as she spoke. “The soldier is cleared for duty.” She gave a mock salute that elicited another sharp giggle from Cillian.
“I guess that ye can go, then,” Dean said gruffly with the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.
“Thank ye, Faither!” Cillian rushed forward and hugged him around the legs before hurrying to the door. “Faither,” he said as he turned to his father.
“Aye?” Dean answered with caution. He wasn’t used to Cillian speaking so openly to him.
“Did ye ken that daggers were used as the weapon of choice ‘afore they made the blades longer an’ called ‘em swords?”
“That cannae be,” Dean said with a frown. “What kind of range would that have given men in battle?”
“It’s true, Faither! Ask Miss Haddison!” Cillian’s laughter echoed down the hall as he ran off.
“I can see he’s spending time with Duncan.” Dean laughed as he came into the room and shut the door behind him.
Sophia seemed uneasy at first and shifted on her feet. “He was having trouble remembering some of the facts, so I used the swords to engage different parts of his mind,” she explained as she gently swung the sword back and forth in her hand. “He seemed to really remember the facts and even enjoyed himself once we began to play.”
Dean said nothing but looked around the room at the chaos that had ensued. The papers on the desk lay around as if a hurricane had swept through the castle. Several books lay open on Cillian’s desk, and all of the wooden weapons were scattered about the floor. It took every ounce of his willpower and being not to begin tidying the mess. He didn’t want to discourage Sophia now, not when she had obviously gotten through to Cillian at long last.
“Thank ye for what ye are doin’ with Cillian,” he began. “I can honestly say that I didnae expect the lad to take to his lessons so easily.”
“Thank you for allowing me to use the props. That more than anything is what made the difference with him.” She smiled earnestly and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. The fight had left her slightly disheveled and red in the face. Her blouse was half sticking out of her skirt, and the sleeves of her dress had been rolled up to allow for easier movement. “The progress was only made because you were willing to make a change that benefited him.”
