Page 41 of Laird of Steel
But hehadbeen. He had always gone where he was needed. Always defended the innocent. Always protected the helpless.
Whether she liked it or not, he considered Merraid one of those helpless innocents he was honor-bound to protect. Her father was long gone. She had no brothers. She needed someone like Gellir to make sure she stayed safe. To hold aggressors at bay. To stand as a barrier between lecherous suitors and her virtue. To weed out undesirables from the herd of rutting beasts who would surely come panting after her.
Chivalry was his calling. But what would happen when he returned to Rivenloch? When he could no longer be her knight in shining armor?
He had to make sure Merraid was well cared for, respected, cherished. And there was only one way to do that.
By the time they entered the gates of Darragh and he handed off the horse to Campbell for a thorough scrubbing, he’d made up his mind. He would insist that Feiyan let him screen all courters seeking to woo the maidservant.
“You want to what?” Feiyan stopped sparring and planted herpang,her staff from the Orient, in the ground.
Gellir halted as well, lowering his quarterstaff. He ran a hand back through his hair. It was still wet from his brisk dip in the firth to wash off the mud. “’Tis the only way she can be assured of a good match.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “And you don’t think that’s a wee bit odd? You taking a personal interest in her affairs? The affairs of a maidservant? One you haven’t seen in years?”
“I consider her a friend,” he argued. “And so do you, I’m sure. If it weren’t for Merraid, your husband might not have won back his castle.”
“True,” she agreed.
She lifted herpangagain and came at him with a series of five angled blows. For a woman with child, she could move rather swiftly.
He managed to deflect four of them. But the fifth whacked his shoulder. He grimaced and stepped back.
She braced herself and motioned him to attack.
“Look,” she said, “Merraid is…” He brought thepangstraight down. She blocked it. “A grown woman now.” He rammed his staff forward. She cast it aside. “Not a child.” He sliced sideways toward her neck. She deflected the blow. “She doesn’t…” He slipped both hands to the end of the staff and swung it at her head. She ducked under it. “Need your protection.”
He waved her forward and held the quarterstaff defensively before him.
“I know how men think,” he told her. She thrust toward his throat. He knocked her weapon upward. “The trickery they’ll try.” She jerked the bottom of thepangup, aiming between his legs. He lunged back out of reach. “I just want to keep her…” She advanced with three swift slices in a row. He blocked each one. “Safe.”
The fourth blow struck him in the chest, knocking him onto his back in the dust of the yard. She towered over him, the end of herpangjammed against his throat.
“Are you sure you don’t just ‘want to keep her’ for yourself?” She arched a brow.
He glowered at her. “God’s eyes. Don’t be ridiculous. Merraid is only a friend. She’s like a little sister,” he said, adding pointedly, “or a cousin.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
But was he? Now that Feiyan had introduced that pesky possibility, it took up residence in his head.
Feiyan moved thepangfrom his throat and held out a hand to help him up. “You need to stop spying on each others’ suitors to make sure they’re good enough.”
He grunted, dusting off his tabard.
“You’re both adults,” she said, retrieving his quarterstaff. “You can make your own decisions.” She tossed the weapon to him. He almost missed it. “Neither of you needs protection,” she said, resting thepangacross the back of her neck and draping her hands over its ends. “What you need is to mind your own affairs.Youneed to secure a wife before the king weds you to a Sassenach. AndMerraidneeds to quit looking after you.”
Then she left, telling him not to be late for dinner. But her words echoed in his thoughts.
Looking after him.Was that what Merraid was doing?
No one ever looked out for Sir Gellir of Rivenloch. No one ever offered. A tournament champion was supposed to be independent. Capable. In control.
