Page 43 of The Defiance of a Scottish Heart
Hildi said, “Not everyone can throw a spear. Mayhap you should consider archery. Or how about practicing with a dagger?”
But Sheona knew that wasn’t what she wanted. She admired Merryn and Dyna and Eli for their archery, the way they climbed into the trees and shot at the enemy, but she admired Meg and Eva more. The axes did much more damage.
She had the impression that throwing an axe with both hands, much like a spear, would be far more satisfying thanletting an arrow go. Both acts, the spear and the axe, represented more power in her eyes.
But perhaps a dagger would work. She could carry it easier than the axes she brought with her. In fact, it was foolish to bring them along since she had no accuracy with them at all yet. But she had to learn to fire a weapon in case she was ever given the opportunity to retaliate.
She wished she had been given the chance to fire with power at that person who had ruined her life.
“Who was it?” Brynja asked.
Sheona, surprised by her friend’s insightfulness, shook her head and said naught.
“I know you cannot talk about it, but no man has the right to force himself on you. If you learn to punch or kick him in just the right way, he’ll never be able to hurt you.”
Curious, she tipped her head. “What do you mean?”
“If you kick a man in his bollocks, he’ll be powerless to do anything for several moments. It’s a protection that not enough lasses know. I consider it my duty to inform anyone of its purpose.”
“Why?”
“Nature’s protection for the weaker person. Most men are larger and taller than a lass. Size is in their favor, but one tweak to a bollock makes them powerless. Use it if you must. It will give you time to get away before their strength returns.” Brynja observed her. “Do you not wish you’d known that?”
“Nay, it would not have helped me in my particular situation.”
Brynja scowled. “That would help in any situation.”
“Not mine. I think I’ll go rest, if you don’t mind.” Sheona wished to get away from her new friends. While she appreciated their companionship and the way they had trained her withthe spears, she didn’t know them well enough to discuss her problem. “Is there a place where we can bathe?”
Hildi said, “At the beach!”
“But it’s cold now.”
“Still feels good.”
“Go to the waterfall and wash your hair,” Brynja said. “Then we’ll braid it with ribbons if you like.”
“Like yours?” Sheona asked, wide-eyed. She loved both of their stylings.
“Aye. Just like ours. What color ribbon would you like?”
She thought for a moment, then said, “Green, if you please.”
“Green it is.”
Sheona headed to their building, gathered her things, and made her way to the waterfall. She’d taken a walk in the morning with another nun who showed her where they bathed. It was a private spot where a burn flowed into a waterfall, several rocks nearby to set her things on.
She stuck her foot under the water first and let out a squeal because it was so cold, but she needed to wash. Her hair needed it too. She played this game of putting another part of her body in before pulling back out, getting used to the temperature slowly. Marta would put her whole body in at once, but Sheona couldn’t tolerate the cold as well as her sister did.
Once she was finally immersed in the cool spray, she tipped her head back and sighed, allowing the water to slide over her body, using the sliver of soap she’d brought along to lather up as she stood under the stream. This is what she needed—time away from her father, her brother, everyone.
Sheona needed to think on exactly what she wanted. But there was only one problem.
She had no idea what she wanted.
Weighing her choices, she came up with nothing. Nothing pulled to her, nothing reached for her soul as Eva had said to heronce, describing how she knew Sloan was the right man for her. Sloan had tugged at her soul, though Eva had admitted to hating him at one point. Meg had said the same thing about Lennox. She said she hated him so much that they argued before she climbed into a boat on MacVey land. That the two had shouted at each other, arguing for quite a while before she’d left, Lennox following her.
Sheona didn’t hate Taskill, she’d thought he was the one for her. Until that day—the day he’d said he’d never marry her. Her interest in the man had flown away as quickly as an eagle after its prey.
