Page 62 of Laird of Steel
Gellir supposed he should be relieved.
Instead he was annoyed.
Henry muttered, “Was he forcin’ ye to spar, lass?”
Laughter teased at the corners of Gellir’s eyes. Henry didn’t know her very well if he thought a man could force Merraid to do anything.
“Nay,” she said. “’Twas my idea.”
“Your idea?” Henry scoffed. “What do ye mean?”
“I mean, I’m a warrior, Henry. Ye might as well know it. I fight with a sword.”
By his expression of horror and distaste, Henry obviously wasn’t familiar with the Warrior Maids of Rivenloch. “By choice?”
“Aye.” She placed a hand on Henry’s chest. “Now will ye apologize to Sir Gellir for your discourtesy?”
“Sir…” Henry gulped. “Gellir?”
Merraid moved aside.
Henry took his hand off his hilt and nervously licked his lips. “I beg your forgiveness, m’laird. But when I saw wee Merraid—”
“You’re forgiven.” Gellir didn’t need to hear the details or how desperate Henry was to save his beloved.
“Thank ye, m’laird.” He bowed his head as he retreated. Then he faced Merraid and murmured under his breath. “As for ye, I don’t know what to say, lass. A woman…with a sword…”
“Ye’ll have to get used to it, Henry,” she told him. “I’ve wielded a sword since I was a lass.”
Henry’s look of distaste was comical. At least it was to Gellir. He’d grown up savoring such confounded reactions to the women in his warrior clan.
But he could see Merraid was not amused. And he suddenly felt sorry for her.
Disappointment dampened Merraid’s high spirits.
Why did Henry have to stumble onto the field just as she was crossing blades with Gellir?
She’d planned to tell him—eventually—about her unusual diversion. It wasn’t something she ever meant to hide.
But she hadn’t expected to have to defend herself so soon.
She hoped Henry might be different from the rest. She thought, given time, he might even be pleasantly surprised to discover her unique talents. Surprised and impressed.
But it seemed he was just like the others. Judgmental and disapproving.
She’d been having such fun, battling Gellir. She loved practicing her skills. And having an eager and dedicated student was a pleasure.
Henry’s response had triggered old feelings of shame and inadequacy. True, she’d learned to keep up a brave face under criticism long ago. But his condemnation made a new cut in her already scarred heart.
“Come now. ’Tis a jest, isn’t it?” Henry decided. “Ye saw me comin’ from the parapet and—”
Gellir coughed.
“Nay,” she told him. “’Tis true.”
“Ye can’t be serious,” he insisted.
Gellir stepped forward. “She is. If ye doubt it, why not try your own hand?” He flipped thedaoaround and offered it to Henry, hilt-first.
