His face took on a strained look, "Do ye not think I can protect ye?"
"It's not like that, Connor." She was saying this all wrong.
"Then how is it?" he demanded.
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"I just would feel better if I knew enough to defend myself.
I don't like feeling helpless. And I don't like feeling like a target, either. I need to know how to defend myself, and our baby."
"That is precisely why you shouldn't learn. What if something happened to the baby?"
"Connor, learning how to use a sword isn't going to hurt the baby."
"How do you know?"
"It doesn't work that way. Maybe if I took a blow to the gut, I could lose the baby, but just working with a sword, I should be fine. Besides, I'm not really even pregnant, not yet anyways. I'm like a week pregnant. My period isn't even late yet. Please? Teach me how to use a sword? Just the basics?"
He was silent, and still angry, but she persisted. "Please?"
After a long pause, he said, "Alright, Mackenzie."
He'd caved
"Stand up."
"Now?" Oh, she got it. He hadn't caved, not really, he was going to make this difficult.
"Aye, you want to learn, so stand up."
Mackenzie stood up and it hurt like hell. Of course Connor knew that. Connor strode to the trunk at the foot of his bed, and pulled out two very large swords. Flipping one over, he held the blade and handed Mackenzie the hilt. She was grateful that it had been her left shoulder that was injured, but it was still awkward for her to hold the heavy sword with only one hand. Holding the sword like she'd seen in movies was apparently the wrong way, because Connor immediately 308
flicked his sword at hers and sent in clattering across the floor.
"Go get it," Connor ordered.
Mackenzie was in her shift, one sleeve, slipping down from where she assumed that Connor had cut it off to patch her up. She was favoring her left arm, clutching it to her chest, as she picked up the heavy sword. She turned around to Connor and he was ready for her. He knocked it out of her hand again.
"How am I supposed to learn if you keep knocking it out of my hand?" she was annoyed and didn't bother to hide it.
"You should learn to keep a tighter grip on your weapon.
Again."
She sighed and picked it up. This time when she turned, she was prepared. When Connor attacked her, she kept hold of her sword. Her arm radiated the shock from his blow, though she kept quiet, he must have seen it in her eyes. He came at her again, and she raised her sword to block his blow, but he surprised her by pressing the tip of the sword to her chest. She glared at him.
"I am not trying to attack your sword, Mackenzie. I am attacking you. The sword is merely a tool. You should always place it where you expect me to strike. Anticipate."
He pulled back, and said, "Again."
Connor swung his sword at her midsection, and when she blocked the shot, the pain from his force all landed in her wrist. She grimaced, but this time it was she who said,
"Again. Do it again." After a grand total of fifteen minutes, 309
Mackenzie was in pain. Intense pain. She gritted her teeth and panted out, "Again, come at me again."
Connor softened. He didn't like to see her in pain.
"Mackenzie, love, it's alright to stop. You've nothing to prove."
"Again," she said between her teeth.
"Nay. You're spent."
"Again!" she commanded.
Connor effortlessly swung his sword at Mackenzie, sending hers skittering across the floor, and he pressed his sword into her neck, softly saying, "You're done."
Her eyes narrowed. "You've been holding back!" she accused.
"Of course." He sounded so arrogant and high-handed.
"Why?" Mackenzie demanded.
"You can hardly stand and ye want me to treat ye as I would one of my men? You should lie down."
Mackenzie was angry; she didn't like being seen as weak.
"Don't tell me what to do," she fumed.
"Stop being so stubborn, woman, and lie down," Connor ordered.
"Make me," she taunted.
Connor raised his eyebrows to the sky and he just stared at her, incredulously. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me."
Connor was staring at her as if she were daft. Mackenzie picked up her sword and this time she lunged at him. She caught him by surprise, but he still managed to knock her sword from her hand, and instead of taunting her with his 310
sword, he instead picked her up and dropped her onto the bed.
"You are not strong enough to practice yet. Wait at least until ye are recovered from your wound."
Truthfully she was exhausted and could use a couple Tylenols, but she couldn't give in gracefully. "Fine," she snapped. "But I'm serious, Connor, I want to learn." At his amused look, probably thinking that it was funny the little woman wanted to play with the menfolk, she ground her teeth in frustration. It irritated her, but she changed her tone.
"Look, I don't expect to be able to take you or anything, but I want a fighting chance."
"Take me where?"
"It means to beat you. I don't expect to be able to beat you, but again, I'd like to not be a sitting duck. Please, Connor."
Connor sighed and sat down next to her on the bed. She was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. He pulled her left hand from her knees and gently extended it until she flinched.
"You are injured, and there is no shame in waiting until you are recovered." He released the tension he had put on her arm. "I'm not saying that I won't teach you, but I won't hurt you anymore, and not tonight."
Connor kept hold on her left hand, but softly placed it back on her knee. Mackenzie sighed, a short frustrated sound, and grumbled, "This sucks."
Connor looked at her with a slight smile and said, "You speak so strangely."
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"I guess I forget sometimes. Besides, I'm not really clear on how I should act, or speak. Oh well, at least around you I don't have to mind myself." She smiled up at Connor, and then lay back against the pillows, still cradling her injured arm. "Tomorrow, then?" She yawned involuntarily. "You'll work with me? At the very least, maybe I could go for a run...I miss working out. I like kickboxing."
"Why would ye want to kick some boxes?"
"It's a way of fighting."
Connor sighed. "You are quite determined to learn?"
"Definitely."
"Then, aye, tomorrow. If your arm is feeling better. You were hit with an arrow just yester morn. It is acceptable for you to rest, to recuperate. Now, I think you ought to sleep for a while longer."
"You're bossy," Mackenzie grumbled.
"And you're stubborn," he countered. His eyes were soft, though, and he lay down next to her. "It'll be dark for a few more hours yet, try to sleep."
"What about you? Aren't you going to sleep too?"
"Nay, love, I've some business to tend to. We caught the man who shot you." His eyes had darkened as he thought of the shooter. "And I'd be glad to talk to him again." He flexed his fingers in anticipation.
"What did he say?" She sat up in her haste, and the burning in her arm intensified with the sudden movement.
Gasping she fell back against the pillows again and waited for Connor to say something.
He just pressed his lips to her forehead and said, "Rest."
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"Wait! That's it? You're not even going to tell me what he said? Was he sent by the Campbell? Was it because we're married? What happened? You have to tell me!"
Connor sighed and gazed at her for a moment before nodding. "All right, aye, he is one of the Campbell's men, and he has indeed heard that I wed you. He was aiming for me, the foolish, inept archer! He was supposed to kill me and then he would steal you away while I lay there bleeding. He had very little information for me that I didn't already know. But I have heard that the Campbell is growing mad wi
th anticipation of the ritual he wants to perform on you. He is slipping ever deeper into his madness, and he is making mistakes. This is good, because if he is not in his right mind, then I can easily outwit him; however it is also bad, for if he is slowly going insane, then he will be unpredictable and he will more readily use the dark forces to which he has sold his soul."
It was the longest speech Mackenzie had heard him speak.
And the thoughts of the Campbell being mad were frightening to her, because her plan was to run to him as soon as she was in the shape to do so. She was going to learn to at least defend herself first, but that was still her plan, nevertheless.
And if Connor was worried about this man using his delusions as an excuse to delve deeper into the black arts, then Mackenzie was worried even more so.
"Now," Connor said, "Will ye please get some sleep?"
"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" She really didn't want to lose any of the precious time she had left with him.
Her two weeks were shortly becoming days, if her plan 313
worked it would mean even less time, and she didn't want to be alone.
Connor slid into bed beside her and settled her against his chest. "Aye, my love, I'll stay."
He'd called her my love, she was ecstatic. The last thing Mackenzie remembered was the even thumping of Connor's heart lulling her to sleep.
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Chapter Twenty Nine
Another nightmare. She was sitting next to the man with the cold eyes, only now his eyes were wild, excited. He held her hand in a painfully tight grip, but she kept her face smooth. They were watching as the prisoner was being dragged in. Mackenzie had to fight to keep herself in her seat; it was Connor! He was shackled and it looked as if he'd been beaten. How had he been captured? The Campbell stood and dragged Mackenzie up before the guests.
He addressed the crowd, "We gather today to celebrate my impending marriage," he glanced at Mackenzie, whose eyes were on Connor. "And as a wedding gift to you, my dear, I shall kill your husband. Tomorrow you will be free to marry me."
Mackenzie stifled a horror-stricken gasp.
"Now watch as your husband dies!"
Mackenzie tried desperately to feign indifference, but all to no avail. Her stricken eyes never left Connor's bruised face.
She begged his forgiveness with her eyes as he glared at her with hate and distrust. He thought she'd betrayed him. Her heart broke and shattered into a million tiny pieces at the thought not only of Connor's death, but of him thinking she would ever betray him. How was she supposed to fix this?
There had to be a way. Mackenzie racked her brain for some way out of this. The dagger! She'd stuffed it under her sleeve, and tied it to her forearm with a leather thong. If she could just get to it without attracting attention....
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Mackenzie pretended to be bored with the whole procession, and yawned, fanning her mouth, then pretended to scratch an itch on her arm, slowly, so slowly, she slid her hand under her sleeve and in one quick motion, she yanked out the dagger and plunged it into the back of his neck. Her hands were covered in warm, red blood. Mackenzie screamed as she yanked the dagger back out of his neck and he lurched at her, knocking them both down. She was pinned to the ground as she watched him gurgle his last breath. His eyes were dead before the rest of him was, or perhaps they always had been dead, and Mackenzie woke up screaming bloody murder in Connor's bed.
This had been the most detailed of all of her dreams.
Nothing was left to innuendo, and the Campbell had spoken this time! Mackenzie had to keep Connor away from the Campbell. Her dream was telling her that he would come after her if she ran, and if he did that, he would be killed.
Mackenzie felt it was her job to vanquish the Campbell, now, and not Connor's, as the wizards had originally hoped. Their vision was flawed. Not only were they wrong in being able to guarantee her safety, but this was her fight, not Connor's, just as she had thought all along.
She was shaking from the dream, and freezing cold. She glanced around Connor's room and saw that the fire had died sometime during the night. She wondered when Connor had left her, and what he was doing now. Now that she understood her dream more fully, she didn't like not knowing where he was. For all she knew, he was out riding alone where the Campbell's men could capture him. Mackenzie took 316
several deep breaths to calm herself, and checked her watch.
It was six in the morning. The household would definitely be up and about, so Mackenzie slid out of bed and found the simplest of her gowns; this one laced in the front, and she skipped the stays. Hopefully no one would notice. Donning a clean shift was harder than she'd expected. It still hurt like crazy to lift her arm above her head, and the wound was very tender to the touch. She managed it, though, and as long as she pulled her dress on from the bottom up, her arm didn't hurt too much. This one was green, almost the same emerald color as her eyes. It was very flattering, to say the least, even without the cinching provided by the stays. Mackenzie pinned her hair quickly up in a loose chignon, and headed for the door.
Dashing down the stairs, she heard her name. She froze and waited, but she realized that it was just Connor and Liam.
About to continue down the stairs, she paused again as she heard Connor say,
"Aye, brother, but what am I to do? Even if she isn't who she says she is, she is my wife, and she thinks she is with child. If there is a MacRae bairn growing in her belly, I'll no'
let him have it. Or her."
"Could she be lying about the child?"
Connor's voice was curt, "No."
Liam sighed and he sounded resigned when he responded,
"Then we shall keep to our plan. The wizards' reply is too vague to count on their help. We must rely solely on ourselves. Are the men ready for this?"
"As ready as I can make them."
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"Then we go in blind. I doona like it Connor. And while I am glad to see ye so happy, I doona like how tied ye are to this woman. She has a hold on ye, Connor, whether ye realize that or no'."
"I ken your feelings, Liam. But as I have stated, she is my wife, and the Lady of this keep, and that means she is your sister now, Liam. And we protect our family."
Liam sighed again, and muttered something in Erse.
Mackenzie was beginning to understand Erse a little more, since most here spoke it to each other, but she had little opportunity to use it when she spent all her time with Connor.
But by his tone she assumed that what Liam had said was a string of curses. This time when Mackenzie walked down the stairs, she stepped loudly and tried to make a little bit of noise, so they wouldn't guess that she'd been eavesdropping.
"Mackenzie?" Connor sounded surprised. "What are you doing out of bed? I thought we'd agreed you would rest."
"I got hungry, and we agreed that if I were up to it, you'd teach me to use a sword."
Liam stared at her as if he were torn between wanting to laugh, and wanting to be the one to teach her to fight; he probably wouldn't pull any punches, Mackenzie thought.
Connor stared at her as if he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and put her back in bed.
"You promised," she accused, pouting a little.
Connor's face relaxed, and he said, "Are you up to it?" She nodded. "Liam? Your sword?"
Liam obliged, and leaned against the post of the stairs to watch.
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Connor handed Mackenzie the sword, and said, "Use both hands."
Her eyes grew round, but she gripped the sword with both hands, and tensed. Connor came at her with a mighty blow and she nearly lost a grip on her sword, her left arm screamed in pain. Liam looked like he was suppressing a laugh. Mackenzie flushed, but gripped the sword with her right hand.
"Use both hands, Mackenzie. We aren't fencing. If you are determined to learn, you'll learn properly."
Liam laughed this time and taunted, "Are ye su
re she has any Scots blood in her at all? She is too tame."
Mackenzie's eyes narrowed and she grasped the hilt of the sword with both hands, preparing for Connor's attack. This time she anticipated his next move and parried with one of her own. It took both men by surprise, as she clashed swords with Connor, and held her own for all of five minutes. Really, though, it wasn't Connor she wanted to fight, it was Liam. He was so smug, sitting there throwing insults her way whenever she did something wrong. After one particularly cruel insult, she retorted, "Hey, I got shot with an arrow. At least I'm trying here. All you're doing is talking. Are you all talk, or have you got any game to back up that mouth?"
She felt incredibly stupid for goading him, because his eyes flashed the same way Connor's did when he was angry.
"Is that a challenge? I doona feel 'twould be a fair fight, lass."
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She knew he was right. But maybe she could hustle him a bit. She knew a couple of self-defense throws, maybe in hand-to-hand...
"All right, forget the swords. You and me, Liam one on one."
Connor's eyebrows rose, and he stepped forward to object, but Mackenzie glared at him and murmured "Don't you dare,"
under her breath.
"I'll no' fight a lass."
"Afraid?" she taunted.
He glared at her scoffed, "Of a wee daft lass? Nay."
"Fine," and Mackenzie turned around to look at Connor.
Liam took the advantage and came at her from behind. The second she felt his arm cross her right shoulder, she shifted her weight into his hip and pulled his arm out and down. By shifting her weight, his balance was thrown and she flipped him neatly over her shoulder. Luckily, the throw was an easy one not dependant at all on strength. Just balance. Once he was down, Mackenzie grabbed the sword lying on the ground and pressed it into his neck.
"Do you give?"
Liam swore.
"That's no way to speak to a lady." Connor interrupted, clearly enjoying this.
"She's no lady," Liam spit out from between clenched teeth.
"I couldn't agree more," Mackenzie quipped. She handed Connor the sword and offered Liam her hand. He grasped her hand, and yanked her down on top of him.
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