Chapter 13

13

T he man and horse were magnificent. Watching them work together as one, Douglas could detect none of the signals used. There! A slight press of the knee and the stallion reared on the hind legs and kicked out his front ones. Robert never moved in the saddle.

Douglas walked around to the other side of the yard to get a better view. Now two warriors charged from either side, bellowing out their war cries. The man and horse repeated the move to perfection. That horse would save a warrior’s life in battle.

Robert shouted his satisfaction to the crowd and dismounted, talking to the horse, rubbing it, rewarding it for its performance. He called to one of the younger men to take it to the stables. Spying Douglas watching him, he motioned him closer.

“What do ye think of him?”

“He’s as fine a piece of horseflesh as I’ve seen,” Douglas admitted candidly. None he’d seen at the reenactments and fairs and shows came close to the form and size and lines on this one.

“That he is.” Robert beamed like a proud papa. Douglas smiled in return, understanding how much time and work went into the teamwork he’d just witnessed. “Douglas, hiv ye much training in fighting and weapons?”

“Some in both.” He didn’t want to overplay his expertise at either; some information was better held close.

“I would like ye to fight Brodie to give me some inkling of where and with whom to place ye while yer wi’ us. Brodie!” He shouted and waved, bringing the attentions of a large, older warrior with red hair and beard. A wave of nervousness passed through him as the big man came nearer—maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. “Brodie, try him out on sword and quarter staff. I want to see his skills. Here now, Connor, bring Douglas that sword and staff.” Robert gestured to a red-haired boy about twelve years old and with the gangly arms and legs that went with that age.

Connor ran to do his laird’s bidding and Douglas climbed into the yard. The cool air rushing over his skin and under the kilt reminded him of how much he’d rather have on a good pair of biker’s shorts under this plaid he wore. He approached Brodie and was again struck by the size of him.

“Alex and Maggie’s boy, ye say? Ye hiv their looks but do ye hiv yer faither’s skill?” Brodie asked quietly so that only Douglas could hear. “Well, then, let’s give the staff a try first.” Connor handed one of the weapons to each of them and Douglas watched his opponent’s movements. “’Twas a favorite of yer faither’s, as I recall,” he whispered.

Douglas was still thinking about the reference to his parents and didn’t see the first blow coming. A second later he was looking up from the very hard ground, listening to the laughter and calls of the spectators. Standing up and dusting himself off, he laughed, too. He would not underestimate Brodie’s quickness again.

The next blow caught him on the back and he stumbled forward, catching himself before landing facedown. He took a deep breath and regained his balance and allowed the years of practice to take over. He felt the energy flow through his body and his movements became strong and smooth. He blocked Brodie’s blows and thrusts and delivered some of his own. A few minutes later, Robert called a halt to their mock battle.

He leaned over and rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Standing up straight, Douglas pushed the hair out of his face and looked at Brodie. Damn, the man wasn’t even winded! He stood quietly exchanging words with the laird. At Robert’s wave, Connor approached again with swords.

Douglas took hold of the one he was given and shifted it in his hand, testing the weight and balance of the blade. Turning away from Brodie, he closed his eyes and practiced with it for a few moments. He allowed his strength to flow through his arm and into the sword. It was an excellent weapon, well-made and well-balanced.

“Are ye ready?” Brodie asked. Without waiting for his answer the warrior charged him, sword at the ready. Already on the defensive, Douglas deflected one blow after another. Brodie barely gave him time to react before he thrust again and again.

This didn’t feel like practice. Brodie attacked with the fervor of a warrior in battle. Douglas’s skills were nothing when faced with the ferocity of this experienced fighter. A few minutes and he found himself once more on the ground, this time with the sharpened point of a sword on this throat.

“Do ye yield?” Brodie stood above him, not even breathing heavily.

He could only nod in answer. Brodie lifted the sword away and extended his hand to Douglas. When he regained his feet, Douglas handed the sword off to young Connor who stood waiting.

“Ye handle the staff about the same as yer faither but yer sword fighting is much better than I remember his to be.” Brodie pounded him on the back, driving what air there was in his lungs right back out. “Robert, I think he would do well with Aindreas and his men. He needs work on the sword.”

Robert nodded in agreement and motioned to one man standing off in the distance. As the man approached, Brodie said under his breath, “I hope to speak to ye privately about yer parents. Come to see me one night soon.” And, after one more “pat” to Douglas’s back that nearly left him without breath, Brodie walked off with Robert.

The man called Aindreas shook his hand and told Douglas to meet with him and his company of MacKendimen soldiers after a short break. Aindreas appeared to be younger than Brodie but almost the same size with huge arms and a broad muscular chest. He knew he was in for a strenuous workout—probably more than his body had ever endured. But, he’d be here for just a short time ... he could withstand it for that long. A quiet sound of distress distracted him from his fighting duties.

Caitlin.

How would she stand it? She knew not for how long he’d be with them but it would be a torturous experience for her. When Caitlin saw him enter the yard with Brodie, her breath caught in her chest and she forgot to breathe. He was skilled; she remembered him bursting through the trees and throwing his daggers without hesitation. And he hit his target with ease even in the dark shadows and under the strain of the moment. Aye, skilled he was.

But, against a warrior of Brodie’s brawn and experience? She thought not and Douglas’ first stumbling made her wince for him. Then she watched him grasp and move the wooden staff. His hands became part of the rod; it became an extension of his body as he moved with it. He was concentrating so much she’d didn’t think he’d seen Brodie’s smile but she had. He ended the match on his feet.

The sword was different. She knew Brodie would not try to hurt him and that this was only Robert’s way to test his skills. However, she also knew that opponents could be injured very easily in these little exercises—she’d patched up the wounds more than once. Caitlin fought the urge to close her eyes until this match was over.

The murmured comments and then muted cheers around her forced her attention to the two men who now circled each other a few yards away from her. Caitlin stepped back into the group of people around her, fearing that her presence would distract Douglas. Most of the men were admiring his ability to keep Brodie on the move and most of the women were admiring his... legs!

She blushed as her gaze caught a glimpse or two of more of his legs than she thought to. Most of the men of her clan wore breeches or trews when they practiced, except for the old ones who always wore the plaid. There were, of course, benefits to watching men fight in both. She laughed as a woman said nearly the same thing right behind her.

She’d seen all of him when she and her mother were taking care of him but alive and fighting like this was definitely more attractive and more... stirring. Little tremors of jealousy pricked her as well as she listened to the women around her.

Would he take his pleasure with one of them while he was here? Many of them would enjoy a tumble with him and attach no more importance to it than scratching an itch. Now that he was to stay here in the keep at night, would his nights be filled doing what the other bachelors of the clan did?

She forced her eyes back to the field and to the two doing battle. The jealous feelings didn’t feel very good. It was becoming obvious that she and Douglas weren’t meant to be together—but could she watch him with other women?

Jealousy was soon pushed aside when Brodie shoved Douglas from one side and then stood over him with his sword poised at Douglas’s neck. The sight of that long weapon against his skin brought forward too many memories of a night not long past—the MacArthurs and their damned long daggers on her own skin.

She shivered as the daylight disappeared and she was in the moonlight once more. The three of them had dragged her to their campsite while she was still unconscious and she’d woken to their filthy hands on her. The leader had kept his blade at her neck so that any movement caused another gash and more pain... and moaning. It was the moans that seemed to feed their desires and increase the pace of their assault. She fought to keep the sounds inside, she fought against the fear but she lost and the three continued to touch where they may.

Unable to move yet shivering vigorously, Caitlin moaned yet again in spite of her best efforts to contain it. She felt the hands around her wrists, and fought with all her might to loosen their grasp this time. Then she heard his voice.

“Caitlin? Caitlin, it’s me, Douglas. Can you hear me? ”

She blinked and felt the tears pour down her cheeks. She blinked rapidly and Douglas’s face began to appear in front of her. Her body still shook with the terror of the memories.

He smoothed her hair from her face and using the edge of his plaid, he dried her tears. She could hear his voice but not the words, only the soothing sounds he made. When she could move her hands, she fumbled for her neck, certain that the cuts were bleeding again.

“No, Caitlin, you’ll scratch yourself,” he said as he managed to stop her from pulling her chemise loose. “Your neck is fine.”

“The dagger ... the point... it hurts....”

“Shhhh, shhhh, Caitlin. It’s over, love, they’re gone. They cannot hurt you anymore.”

She only knew that she was in his arms. He held her close and rocked her like a bairn as she cried. The warmth seeped into her and she tucked her head onto his chest accepting his comfort. When all the tears seemed spent, she raised her head to look at him.

His eyes were filled with concern and caring, watching her every move. She rubbed her eyes and then wiped her cheeks on his plaid. He loosened his hold enough to smooth her hair back from her face again.

“Ye must think I’m a bairn wi’ all this crying today.”

“I think I know what just happened to you, but I can’t figure out what caused it. You were remembering what happened in the woods, weren’t you?” At her nod, he asked, “Do you remember what you saw before the feelings came back to you?”

“I was watching ye and Brodie and saw his sword at yer throat, nay, on yer skin.” Another shiver ran its course through her body. “Then, I just remembered.”

He wrapped her in his arms and vigorously rubbed her arms and back until the shuddering stopped.

“Come, I’ll take you back to your home. I’m sure Moira has a potion to calm you a bit?” He stepped away and released his hold on her.

“Dinna ye hiv to follow Aindreas?” Caitlin looked around and found that most of the crowd had left. But, they had been there, they had seen her in Douglas’s arms. Another deed would surely be brought to Craig’s attention.

“I have some time to take you home first. Come on,” he reached for her hand. “Let’s go.”

They walked in silence out past the keep and through the castle’s gate. He never said a word until they’d almost reached the center of the village.

“I can explain what you experienced, Caitlin. I’ve seen it many times in my medical practice back home.” His voice was quiet and serious, at odds with the wild look he carried after fighting with Brodie. His face was covered with dirt and sweat and his hair was clinging to his neck and face.

“I would prefer no’ to speak of it right at this moment, Douglas. I am so embarrassed by what happened, and that ’twas in front of most of the clan.”

“What happened to you is very common in people who have suffered a great trauma, Caitlin. This will happen again unless you talk about it.”

“No’ here, Douglas and no’ now. Please?” She pulled her hand free of his. “The clan will already make more of this than is true.”

And Craig would hear every word... the woman he desired for a wife sought comfort from a distant relative. No matter that her parents and Craig’s knew the truth. Words would be spoken and tempers would flair and it promised to make this whole situation even worse.

“Make more of what? I am trained to comfort people when they are in need, Caitlin. That is not strange for a healer in this time, is it?”

A healer? He thought he was a healer? Right now he was being a pompous ass! So, the compassion and caring he’d shown was in the line of his duties? And nothing more? She looked him straight in the eye and his gaze never wavered. Caitlin was certain that she’d be able to tell he was lying but he gave no sign of meaning anything but what his words had said.

Finally feeling her spine strengthen, she turned to him. “Ye can go back to yer duties now, Douglas. I need to see my faither afore I return home. We are nearly there.” She’d been so busy mooning and longing for him that she’d lost her backbone, her ability to survive alone. Well, ’twas returning at last and she had his words to thank for it.

He planned on returning to his time and home and apparently had no problems leaving her behind. He was already holding himself separate, apart from her. Well, she could do the same and then at least she’d have her heart intact when he did leave. Mayhap, it was not a bad plan after all?

Douglas looked as if he wanted to argue but recognized that her decision was final in this. “Fine, Caitlin. I’ll return to the yard for practice. I will see you in the morning?”

“Why?” The word was out before she could stop it.

“Your mother has asked me to go with you tomorrow to visit the people you are tending. She said to come an hour past dawn.” She nodded at him and watched as he trotted back up the path they’d walked.

So, if this plan to hold herself separate as he did was such a good one, why did she feel so sad?