Hamish got out his dirk and held it like he was going to attack. “Now that you know how to attack and the movements used, it will be easier to learn how to throw an attacker off balance and use their weight to your advantage.”
Mairead’s eyes brightened as she understood Hamish’s teaching strategy. Yesterday had been just about offense and how to attack—or so she had thought. Hamish had actually been teaching her how to defend herself all along.
He handed her a sgian dubh that was sheathed. Attached to the scabbard was a long, thin strap of leather. “Cut the hem of the pocket in your dress and then strap the blade to the outside of your thigh where it will be hidden but not uncomfortable.” When she looked at him dubiously, he said, “If you are attacked, it’s doubtful you will have a dagger just sitting in your hand. Therefore, you will need to have one on you that you can get to and remove quickly.”
Mairead licked her lips and bobbed her head in agreement. “That makes sense.” She found the pocket in her gown and ripped a hole in it. She liked pockets and most of her bliauts had them. By the end of the week though they all would, and every one of them would be unusable as pockets.
Mairead then turned around, hiked up her skirt and the chemise underneath, and tied the sgian dubh to her leg. How glad she was that she had not insisted on a dirk. It would have been impossible to wear like this. The black knife, on the other hand, could be kept hidden and gave her a means of defense at all times.
“You are going to learn only three moves today. And like yesterday, we are going to go over them and over them until you can do it without thought. Muscle memory takes a while to build, but the more you do these moves, the faster and more natural your movements will feel. So practice them daily and when possible, several times throughout the day.”
Mairead tapped the side of her leg, feeling the small knife through the material. “I’m ready.”
* * *
For the next hour, Mairead practiced what to do if facing an attacker, whether they were armed or not. Then Hamish made her lie down, to learn what to do if she was asleep when ambushed. Lying on the damp sand was unpleasant and cold, and when she suggested on top of a rock, or even some of the drier grass, Hamish had refused. She could see his point—that she needed to be able to focus regardless of the conditions—but she really hated sand in her hair and quickly figured out how to unsheathe her blade while prone. She just had to commit. Hesitation was the enemy.
The third and final move was the most difficult. It was when Hamish came up from behind. She was getting frustrated and knew that she was doomed if an attacker grabbed her. She was just not strong enough to get her hand free to access the sgian dubh and get an advantage.
“Relax,” Hamish murmured softly against her cheek. “Relax your entire body.”
Tension rolled over her. The last thing Mairead could do was relax. She hated the feeling of being out of control and Hamish whispering in her ear did not help. Yesterday had been all about stabbing and slicing. It was harder to keep that level of focus with Hamish’s arms around her. “I can’t.”
“Aye, you can. Don’t think of it as a lack of control, but a way to gain it back. A body that is completely limp is very difficult to keep ahold of, let alone dominate. An attacker will have to let go to get a better grip, giving you a chance to get to your knife.”
Mairead took a deep breath and forced her limbs to ease. When she could feel them respond, she told her body to go limp. When it worked, she shrieked, “I did it!” instead of remembering that she was fighting off an attacker.
Hamish chuckled and again it was next to her ear. “Aye, aingeal, you did it. But I still have you.”
Mairead tilted her head to the right and cracked her neck. Then with a nod, she said, “Again.”
Hamish smiled hearing her use the word. Mairead struggled for a minute and then all at once went limp. But she took too long going for her knife. She needed more seconds than that one maneuver would allow. “Remember, even at your size and weight, you can fight using more than just a knife. An attacker will be focused on using his own blade and expecting it to create panic. Use that to your advantage. Stomp your heel down on the top of the foot. Does that make sense?”
The only hint that Mairead was about to demonstrate just how much sense it made was her smile. It flashed just as her heel came down on his toes. Hamish winced and fought the desire to hop around and moan in pain. He thought Mairead would at least look apologetic, but all she said was, “Be glad I didn’t aim for your groin.”
Hamish did moan then. “You do that and training will be over.”
Mairead bit back a smile and turned around so that he could grab her again. She went limp and then surprised him by stomping on his foot again. He had not been expecting her to aim at the same foot and was mentally berating himself for underestimating her. “That was, uh, good. But you stopped. Once free, kick again and anywhere that is vulnerable—the shin, the calf, and the knee. You obviously already know about where you can cause the most pain, but you need to kick hard. Remember, the point is to give you enough time to get your knife free.”
Mairead narrowed her gaze, unconvinced that he really meant for her to do that during training. “But I’ll hurt you.”
“No, you won’t. I won’t let you, but you need to try.”
Mairead arched her brows and shrugged her shoulders. Hamish held her once more. “Now, use anything that can move to your advantage. Your fingers can stab eyes or—”
Mairead understood what he meant and had an idea. She rammed her head under his chin, slamming his jaw shut. Hamish immediately let go. “Ow!” And before he realized it Mairead had the blade in her hand and was ready to attack.
When she saw him rubbing his chin, grimacing, she immediately put her arm down. Worry overtook her expression. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he groaned, wiggling his jaw. “That . . . that was good. Just not hard enough. If this were real, try to break it.”
Mairead’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Rebellion shined in the hazel depths. “We are not practicing that!”
“No. We certainly are not.”
Mairead waited a minute until Hamish looked like he was feeling better. “Can we do it again? And this time, I want you to try hard. Really hard to keep me from getting free.”
He had expected her to ask her to quit. That she might have been too afraid of hurting him to want to continue, but Mairead was driven by fear and it was overruling every other emotion. It was a cold reminder that she was not doing this for a lark, but that she truly thought this might save her life. “You’ll bruise.”
“Then bruise me.”
Hamish nodded and she turned around. A second later, he had a hold on her, pinning her arms and body against his chest. Mairead instinctively began to squirm. The more she struggled, the tighter his grip became. She flailed her legs and tossed her head around. She tried to bite but could find no flesh and then without any warning, she collapsed and slipped right out of his grasp.
Immediately she jumped to her feet and reached into her bliaut for her knife while at the same time going for his foot. He shifted and she missed, but she used the momentum to swing her leg around and connect it with the back of his thigh. An inch lower, it would have caught his knee and he would have gone down. But it didn’t matter, his momentary shock gave her enough time to free her knife. Mairead spun around to face him, ready for his next move.
Hamish smiled, enjoying the challenge, and unsheathed his own dirk. Mairead kept her gaze locked on his eyes, ignoring how he was palming the blade. She slowly began to move in a circle to the right. He followed suit. He knew she was not going to attack. She may have known some moves, but none well enough to feel confident in them. But Mairead was quick and she had picked up how to guard against a frontal attack extraordinarily fast. And she knew it.
Hamish lunged, but Mairead had seen him shift his weight and had been prepared for it, easily stepping aside. “Good,” he said with a hint of condescen
sion, “but remember, all of this will feel much different when you are scared.”
Mairead glared at him. She knew he was right just as she knew Hamish was not going to attack her for real.
Hamish and Mairead resumed their slow circle as they faced each other. “Who are you so scared of, aingeal?”
Tension ran through Mairead. “After today, I won’t need to be scared of anyone, will I?” she quipped.
“Is it Ulrick?” he asked. His breath stuck in his throat as he waited for the answer.
“You are trying to distract me.”
Hamish gave her a half grin. “Coming from an expert, that is a compliment.”
Mairead’s brows furrowed, but her concentration did not waver. “What do you mean by that?”
“Yesterday?” he answered in an effort to sound light and playful, but it rang untrue. There was something dark about his tone. “Or when you were sparring the other day? All that flirting?”
“You sound jealous.” Mairead smiled. She couldn’t help it.
“Of a muddy creature like yourself?” He cackled. “Maybe you would like to take a dip in the cool waters.”
At the same time, he faked a lunge, but Mairead had easily avoided the maneuver. She knew he was trying to distract her just as she knew that she was also very dirty. “Do not worry. Before I left today I told the servants to have a bath waiting for me.”
“Kicking everyone out of the kitchens again?”
Mairead attempted a withering gaze. That had been the only time she had ever bathed anywhere but her chambers, but she knew he would never believe her. So instead of going on defense, she decided to poke back. “With you as chaperone?”
“Of course,” he replied without delay.
“Then I’ll decline. I think I should just continue bathing in my room and let you bathe here, where it’s cold.”
Hamish grinned, showing off his dimples. “What can I say? I hate dirty feet.”
“Then you must be miserable right now.”
He just shrugged.
Mairead knew that this banter was not working. Any minute he was going to say something that really distracted her to get the advantage. She needed to do it first. “Are all the McTiernays married? Even Conan? I understand that he is the most attractive brother.”
Hamish froze for a second and Mairead immediately lunged. It was far from perfect, but it might have worked if his instinct had not kicked in. She frowned and he knew that her frustration was mounting. “What do you want to know about Conan?”
Mairead shrugged, refusing to give up. “Just wondering if what I heard about him is true. He is supposed to be the smartest of the McTiernays as well as irresistibly good-looking. I would love to personally see if the rumors are true.”
Hamish stumbled at the image of Mairead and Conan together. He would eventually get bored with her as he did with all women, but by then he would have enjoyed her kisses and much more many times.
Mairead tried to take advantage of his misstep, but she had been just a fraction too slow, giving him a chance to recover. He knew she was goading him, but now she knew it was working. But her words were hard to ignore. It rankled that the McTiernay brothers did not even have to be present to get a woman’s attention.
They were back to facing each other.
“If you have heard rumors about Conan,” Hamish began, “then you also know that he is a pain to everyone, but to women, he can be unfeeling and even cruel.”
Mairead shrugged. “It is sad, really, for even a very smart man could learn a lot from a woman.”
“Conan is a very smart man. By far, the smartest I have ever met and he applies that intelligence every time he wields a weapon.”
Mairead licked her bottom lip slowly, sensually. “But you could beat him.”
Hamish swallowed. He could beat Conan. The second to youngest McTiernay was fast and accurate, but Hamish was stronger and had more stamina. He practiced with weapons daily, while Conan no longer did. In a fight, that would matter. “Aye, I could, but you need not inflate my ego.” This time Hamish lunged unexpectedly and with all the speed he would use against a McTiernay.
Mairead saw it at the last moment and spun low. Hamish had been prepared and aimed down. She moved to avoid his thrust and had almost succeeded in getting out of the way when the edge of his blade caught her upper arm. It sliced through the thick material of her bliaut and it felt like it went deep.
Mairead cried out and fell to her knees, clutching her arm. Hamish flung the blade down and pulled her close to him.“Ó dhìol! Murt! Gabh mo leisgeul!” he cursed, and did so again upon seeing blood begin to seep through her fingers.
Mairead knew Hamish felt guilty, but he had given her what she wanted. What it would be like if he did not hold back. “It’s not bad, Hamish. Really.”
“Let me see, aingeal.” He tried prying her fingers off her arm but was afraid to hurt her any more by forcing her.
Mairead shook her head and wiggled until he let her go. She rose to her feet and with everything she could muster, she let her arm go and waved it around. “See? It barely hurts. It is probably just a scratch, but I probably should get cleaned up and make sure.” Mairead picked her fallen sgian dubh and did her best to sheathe it without wincing. “If I’m wrong I’ll let you know. Stay. Bathe. I know you are dying to clean those feet. Besides, we shouldn’t return together, especially in the filthy state I am in. Would cause too many questions.” Mairead knew she was rambling, but she made sure that she was also smiling. “I’ll see you at dinner!”
“At dinner, aingeal.” His tone was laced with promise that if she was not there, then he would find her.
She flashed him her biggest and brightest smile. “Dinner.” Then she left, praying that the pain receded some, else she was going to have to put on her best performance to convince him that she was fine.
* * *
Hamish knocked once and then pushed open Mairead’s door. He had noticed the other night that she did not bar it, and remembered her saying at dinner one night that little Rab often came into her room to cuddle when he was scared.
He closed the door and slid the wooden bar into place to prevent anyone else from doing what he’d just done. Entering her chambers without permission. But he really did not care if he was caught. He did not care if Selah came by or even if Rab called out, forcing his presence in Mairead’s chambers to be known. She had not come down for dinner and after lying awake for hours, Hamish knew he could not wait until morning to ensure she was well.
Mairead was asleep on her bed. Her hair was down, and sleeping on it unbraided, it was a mess. Her arms were exposed and he could see that the left one was wrapped. She was wearing only a chemise, which was tangled up to her knees, leaving her feet and calves exposed. Hamish just stood there, ogling her in the firelight. She was so beautiful that she took his breath away.
He took another step toward her and the sound caused her to stir. Her eyes opened and she blinked as if she could not believe what she was seeing. “Hamish?”
He nodded. “Aye.” He was about to give her an angry lecture on the hell she had put him through when he saw her wince as she pushed herself to a sitting position. “Mo chreach, Mairead. You promised to tell me if this was more than a scratch.”
“It is a scratch.”
Hamish sat down beside her and began to unwrap the bandage. He could see from the amount of blood on the cloth he was removing that it was far more than a scratch, but he was not going to argue. “How bad does it hurt?”
“Just a little, Hamish, really.” Her words said one thing, but the fact that she was not fighting his efforts was not a good sign.
“Then why were you not down at dinner tonight?” He tugged lightly on the last bit, which had partially dried to her injury, and she fought from crying out. Tears, however, escaped her eyes. Hamish brushed them with his thumbs and then kissed her forehead. He was relieved. There was no fever. Hopefully, he was in time and there wouldn’t be. “You will fe
el better soon, aingeal. I promise.”
Mairead watched as he picked up a very small bag that he must have put down when he sat beside her. “What is that?”
“Something for you.”
Mairead recoiled. The cut was painful and it was longer than she had thought, but it thankfully was not very deep. However, she was not certain that Hamish would agree. If he had a needle and thread in that bag, there was no way she was going to let him touch her.
Hamish could see the spirit of non-cooperation grow in her eyes. “I’m going to only look at it, aingeal, so you might as well yield now.”
Before she could stop him, Hamish reached out and grabbed her waist and pulled her back toward him. Mairead squirmed to get free. “Mo chreach-sa a thàinig, Mairead! You are hurt and I will be taking a look at that arm.”
Mairead pointed to the small sack with her good arm. “What’s in the bag?” she demanded with bite.
Rolling his eyes, he let her go and opened it. He pushed it under her nose so that she could smell it. “It’s just some herbs that Laurel gave me before I left. It’s something she uses to patch up all the McTiernay soldiers and we carry it with us because you never know when a blade might get you. I’m not sure what it is, but I can tell you from experience that it speeds the healing and usually keeps any fever away.”
Mairead swallowed. “That’s all. Herbs and no . . . needle?”
He looked at her questioningly and back at her arm. It did not seem that deep, but if she was scared that it needed to be stitched, perhaps it was. “Do you need one?”
“No! I absolutely do not!”
Hamish smiled. Mairead was scared of needles. Hell, he did not like the damn things either. “No needles,” he promised.
He went to the small bowl on the table and poured some water in it. He grabbed a small square cloth next to the bowl and waved it. “Have you used this for anything?”
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