Page 28 of Highland Sword
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Aidan said. “But he’s either sleeping or too sick to talk to me when I visit him.”
“Convenient,” Sebastian muttered. “I’ll go see him. I’m far more persuasive.”
“We need to keep him alive.”
“I know, but the man is a viper whose every breath is a plague on humanity. I still can’t believe he convinced you to—”
“Before you get too riled up, you should know that I’m going to Inverness next week. I need you to promise not to kill him while I’m gone.”
“Why are you going?”
“I need to speak with the Chattans again. I want the names of their so-called friends. Everyone who was involved with their committee.”
“When you saw them with their solicitor, they wouldn’t give up any names.”
“The lads were trying to be courageous and honorable, thinking they wouldn’t get their friends in trouble.”
“But one of those friends betrayed them.”
“Exactly. I need the names.”
“Wemys said they’ve already moved the scoundrel who was responsible for setting up the lads.”
“And that gives us a fox to chase. If I come back andput the list in front of him, maybe I can convince Wemys to tell me which one was responsible. And then you can go get him.”
“Once you have your list, if you can’t convince him, maybeshecan.”
Aidan realized they’d come to a halt by the weapons shed, and he followed Sebastian’s gaze. Not twenty paces from where they were standing, two people were practicing with short, blunted daggers in the yard. Both were wearing stiff leather jerkins and thickly padded sleeves for protection. The taller man was Blair Mackintosh. It took a second glance to realize the lithe, young opponent with her back to him was Morrigan.
He recalled their encounter in the library. Every night since then, he’d gone up there, hoping that she’d come. At every meal he’d taken in the Great Hall, he searched the crowd, wanting to see her again. To his great disappointment, she’d kept her distance.
Today, she was dressed in men’s clothing, a rough woolen shirt and trousers. Her hair was gathered in a thick braid that hung like a rope down her back. She moved with the grace of a panther—quick, agile, and competent.
Aidan found her as attractive in this outfit as the dress she wore the last time they met.
Morrigan fought Blair with both hands. Grabbing, punching, slashing, stabbing. She moved in and out. Lunge. Parry. Stab, stab. Retreat. Parry. Sidestep. Her hands were a blur of motion. Lunge. Stab. Retreat.
She changed her grip on the dagger effortlessly, attacking from down low or from above with equal force and ease. She was remarkably graceful, light on her feet. Her concentration was intense, and she lost none of it when she took hard blows, quickly learning and then avoiding the same mistake.
Morrigan was clearly fierce and skilled, and Aidan now realized exactly how fortunate he’d been in the alley. If he hadn’t knocked the sgian dubh from her hand before she turned, she’d have probably gutted him like a salmon.
Aidan was raised with three brothers, and the women he’d come across in his youth fell into prescribed roles. Maidens looking for a husband. Wives and mothers. Workers for house or farm. When his world expanded to Edinburgh and beyond, he found women working in manufactories and in the trades: spinners, weavers, milliners, dyers, embroiderers, confectioners, bakers, brewers. And then, unfortunately, the less savory occupations.
In all his experience, however, he’d never met anyone like Morrigan and her family. One, a university educated doctor. The next, a political activist and writer. And then there was Morrigan. Smart and alert, she could assist in a surgery or cut down an opponent with the most lethal of skills. She needed no man to protect her.
He leaned against a post as Sebastian drew two blunt-edged dirks from a rack. Aidan had to admit, he liked the look of her long legs in trousers.
His brother walked across the yard to the two fighters. The three exchanged friendly words, and then Blair stepped back, continuing to instruct her how to use the longer dagger with Sebastian as Morrigan’s training partner. The dirk appeared to be a weapon that was new to her, and she focused on what she was being taught.
Aidan watched them. Even with one arm, Sebastian was a formidable opponent for anyone. His skills had been formed as a lad and honed on the battlefield. It took a cannon ball to rob him of his left arm.
It wasn’t long before she adjusted to the longer blade. He had no doubt she’d be as deadly with the dirk as the sgian dubh. As she became more obviously comfortable—with the weapon and Sebastian—they began to talk between exchanges. He could only catch bits and pieces of what they said. He heard Morrigan ask how he’d lost his arm. Sebastian’s response was as indifferent as if he were talking about the scar on his cheek.
The two of them were the same in their blunt manner.
Aidan was taken aback when his brother turned and motioned him over with a wave of the dirk. “Why don’t you come and let this lass try these moves on you?”
Morrigan whirled toward Aidan. Her dark eyes rounded with surprise. She didn’t know he was watching. The fight in the alleyway in Inverness was in the distant past. Their conversation in the library lingered in his thoughts. If he’d only known this was where he could find her, he’d have been down here every day.
