Page 10 of The Beast of the Highlands
“Ye ken a lot then, eh?” he said, his hard edges softening as he looked at Autumn.
She nodded. “It would be my pleasure to impart some of that knowledge on you, if you would accept it? It does not even have to be teaching, as such, to begin with. I can speak of things you wish to know, and we can begin from there.” She paused. “After all, the roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet.”
He gaped at her. “Did ye just make that up?”
“Sadly not.” She chuckled, though it hurt to do so. “That is Aristotle, but if you are armed with such proverbs, and you happen upon someone who does not know of them, you can pretend as though they are your own and everyone will herald you as a genius.”
A grin spread across Leighton’s face. “Ye’re nae what I expected ye to be.”
“Did you envision a troll who would whip a cane upon the desk and demand you write out Le Morte d’Arthur a hundred times?” she quipped.
He tilted his head from side to side. “Somethin’ like that, aye.”
“Then fear not, for I hide my true troll form beneath all of this satin and lace. I am not really in pain, either; I am merely stopping myself from transforming before your very eyes, as Bisclavret did. And I will only make you write out Le Morte d’Arthur fifty times.” Autumn flashed him a wink, prompting him to laugh cheerily.
“Flynn dinnae say ye were amusin’.”
Autumn rolled her eyes. “That is because, unfortunately, your brother does not think I am amusing.” She paused for dramatic effect, lowering her voice to a hushed whisper. “Indeed, he thinks I am a spy.”
“Are ye?” Leighton reeled back, looking suddenly wary.
“I have shown you my sword arm, Leighton,” she reminded him. “It is empty.”
He visibly relaxed. “Aye, ye did.”
“Although, if you promise you will sit with me for at least a week of learning, there is a rather exquisite weapon that I could allow you to borrow.” She dangled some bait from her hook, hoping he would snatch it up.
Eagerness glinted in his dark eyes. “Depends on the weapon.”
“A bronzed dagger with a curved blade: the hilt inlaid with rubies.” She added a note of awe to her voice, to entice him further.
Leighton’s eyes widened further. “Ye’re fibbin’ to me.”
“I am not. I might speak a great deal, but I do not lie,” she replied. “So… what do you say?”
He gave a tentative nod. “Aye, I’ll do it… but only if ye promise to teach like ye said ye would. Givin’ me knowledge without makin’ it feel like teachin’.”
“I think we have ourselves a fair exchange, Leighton.” Autumn tried to hide the triumph from her voice.
At that moment, a loud knock boomed into the chamber. Autumn jumped in fright, and even Leighton looked startled, as Flynn barged into the room, once again without announcing himself first.
6
“Are you married?” Autumn asked abruptly, taking Flynn by surprise.
They had exited Leighton’s chambers, at Flynn’s request, so they might discuss her position here. She had asked to see the Ettrick Forest while they talked, and he had obliged, which was how they found themselves walking together down one of the well-worn paths that weaved between the walnut trees, the tall oaks, the evergreens, and the horse chestnuts that vied for space.
“Nay,” he replied after a moment.
She nodded. “I did not think so.”
“And why is that?”
“If you had a wife, she would be the one urging Leighton to educate himself,” she replied confidently. “I… believe, and forgive me if I am wrong, you have no mother or father living, either?”
Flynn’s chest gripped in a vice of sudden pain. “Aye, ye’re nae mistaken.”
They had both been lost to him not three years ago, and though time had passed, the wound of their loss was as raw as it had been when he first discovered the news. It had hit Leighton just as hard, which Flynn feared was the reason his younger brother put all of his efforts into learning how to fight, rather than exploits of intellect.
