Chapter 14

Daemon watched Lyla stroll away toward the healer's cottage. He was still embarrassed at what he'd almost suggested. Of course, Lyla would need proper undergarments for a woman, as well as clothing that fit her comfortably. She would know what she needed far better than he would. So why had he suggested he would take care of it? He wasn't her husband, betrothed, brother or father, to make such gestures. If she needed something like that, it was far more reasonable for her to seek out Alyn, or another woman in the household.

He turned back to find Cai and Ryan giving him almost identical stares of bemusement. "What?"

Ryan was the first to speak. "I ken the lass is yer late wife's sister, but ye've never expressed dissatisfaction with me teaching skills. And ye're busier than both o' us, so why take on her lessons with all else ye need tae be managing?"

Daemon snorted. "Because I ken what sort o' man ye are, Ryan MacMillan. Ye're a good man and a true warrior, but there's nae a woman in the castle ye havenae pursued. I dinnae want ye getting distracted with flirting instead o' teaching. And Lyla doesnae need tae be distracted by yer roguish ways."

He knew Ryan would never intentionally hurt Lyla, but he also knew that Rowan's younger sister was yet untaught in romance. Ryan, on the other hand, was a born charmer, and had fairly earned his reputation as something of a rake – though he never misled a woman or offered more than a night's pleasurable company He didn't want Ryan's naturally flirtatious nature to give Lyla the wrong idea, and possibly end up hurting her later. Nor did he want to risk the slight chance that Lyla and Ryan might actually become romantically involved, which would be worse, as Laird MacDougall might take exception to his youngest child having relations with Clan MacMillan's war leader.

At least, that was what he told himself.

Cai and Ryan shared a look of disbelief. Then Ryan shook his head. "Me laird, I dinnae want tae press the matter, but I ken when a man feels something fer a woman. Ye may be wary o' me reputation, but the way ye spoke tae her says something else entirely."

Daemon scowled. "I dinnae ken what ye mean by that."

"Dae ye nae?" Cai said the words softly, but with a hint of steel to them, "I said it afore, me friend – ye're attracted tae the girl. Attracted and becoming attached. Ye've feelings fer her, and best ye address them rather than ignore them, fer her sake and yer own. Lyla MacDougall's nae blind, and she'll see the truth same as we, eventually."

"There's naught fer her tae see." Daemon shook his head, frustration and something that felt far too much like fear to be comfortable building in his chest. "Ye're seeing shadows and dreams where there's naething more than courtesy, and the kindness owed between kinfolk."

Ryan huffed. "I dinnae ken why ye're so adamant about the matter. She's a pretty lass, and yer wife's been buried more than a year. There's naething wrong with looking at another woman, whether she's yer wife's younger sister or nae."

"There's everything wrong with it!" Daemon found himself snarling the words. "Dae ye nae understand, either o' ye?" His hands clenched into fists. "She's Rowan's sister, and that would be aye bad enough – looking as if I'm trying tae replace me wife with her younger sibling is wrong in and o' its own – but she's far too young fer me! I was training tae be a warrior when she was born, and a laird afore she'd seen half a score o' years! She's scarce more than a child tae me, and I'd be damned and would deserve it if I were tae think such thoughts about her, let alone pursue her!"

Daemon turned and stormed away from the other two men. He knew his control was slipping, and he'd said more than he should have. Worse, he was on the verge of losing his temper completely and doing something unforgivable, like lashing out physically at his two friends.

Why didn't Cai and Ryan understand? It wasn't just Lyla's relationship to Rowan that bothered him. He was in his thirty-fifth year, and she was only in her twenty-third. Certainly, she was well into the age a woman might be married, but that didn't mean he was a suitable partner for her.

Lyla deserved someone closer to her own age. Even more, she deserved a lover and a relationship that wouldn't be constantly shadowed by the past. With him, there would always be Rowan's ghost, hovering nearby, and the lingering suspicion that he'd only come to her because of her likeness to her sister. That would be unfair to both of them.

He couldn't – at the very least, shouldn't – desire Lyla. Also, he shouldn't be snapping defensively at Ryan, as if Lyla was his to protect. But if his heart and his mind were going to betray him on that front, then the least he could do was refuse to act on it. In time, Lyla would find another, more suitable suitor. So would he. Perhaps a widow from one of the neighboring clans, or an older daughter who'd not had the good fortune to be wed younger.

For that matter, as he'd married for alliance and duty once already, there was nothing the Council could do if he were to choose a woman who was not a lady. And plenty of women both noble-blooded and not were widows through some incident or another. He could choose any eligible woman to be his bride if he wanted.

Any eligible woman, so long as it was someone other than Lyla MacDougall.

* * *

Lyla waited for Daemon in the training yard, and tried not to fuss with the sleeves of her borrowed clothing. She knew it was functional and practical to dress somewhat like a man when training to fight, but she'd never had much reason to do so before, and it was going to take some getting used to.

For now, she was attired in loose leggings, a chest wrap, and a shirt underneath a leather vest. Her hair was braided back away from her face, and her knives were hooked onto her belt, as opposed to being hidden in her skirts.

She felt slightly ridiculous, like a child playing around, or a woman pretending to be a man, as happened in some of the stories she'd read.

"Good. Ye're here." Lyla jumped as Daemon appeared from the armory, his steps almost soundless. He was carrying two weighted practice daggers, two swords, and a bow and arrows. He handed one of the swords and one of the knives to her. "I thought we'd try ye on a few different things, and see what ye show skill in."

That made sense to her, though Lyla grimaced as she hefted the sword. It wasn't terribly heavy, but it still felt awkward and unwieldy in her hand. She looked around at the stone courtyard walls surrounding her, and felt her unease and embarrassment intensify. When she'd asked for lessons, she hadn't realized how visible the courtyard was. She gulped. "Daemon, could we go elsewhere?"

He turned to look at her. "What dae ye mean?"

She flushed. "'Tis just, I feel fair foolish and awkward enough as it is, and being where so many people could be watching me fumble around, in these clothes... I'm afraid I'll be fair distracted if I try tae learn here."

Daemon considered her words, then he nodded. "Aye. There's a place just beyond the side door from the stables that should suit."

Lyla followed as he led her to a small postern door and through it, then down a small path to a moderately sized clearing, bordered on the far side by a stream. It was most likely where the servants did some of their washing in good weather. It was close enough to the keep that they could get back quickly if they needed to, but far enough that her practice wouldn't be visible to prying eyes – not from the keep at least.

Daemon stopped. "Daes this suit ye?"

"Aye. It will be fine." Lyla shifted her feet. "What dae we dae first?"

"First, we make sure yer muscles are limber. ‘Tis easy fer someone new tae training tae strain themselves by nae getting limbered and warmed up afore they begin."

Lyla followed along as he showed her some exercises to stretch her muscles and loosen them. They were somewhat uncomfortable, but not painful, and she did feel a little more focused and ready at the end of them. Then Daemon handed her the bow, and stalked to a tree to pin a patch of cloth to it. "We'll start with archery, afore the light goes completely." He returned to her side. "Have ye any practice?"

"Aye. I've shot afore. Last season, I competed in archery with me sister, Laird MacLean and his brother." She blushed. "I was the first tae be eliminated, but…"

"But they're all trained warriors, and ye're nae." Daemon said. "Show me how ye shoot."

Lyla drew the bow and lined up her shot. It hit the edge of the cloth she was aiming at. She drew an arrow, nocked it, and fired again. And again, until she'd shot ten arrows. Seven had hit the cloth, the other three had hit the tree trunk a little above or below it.

"Ye're a fair enough shot. ‘Tis more a matter o' practice and getting yer eye in than aught else, at least fer ye. I dinnae need tae teach ye aught else on that." Daemon took the bow and arrows and set them to the side. "A sword is a useful skill tae learn, and mayhap we'll practice with it, but we'll start with knives and nay weapons at all, since ‘tis getting kidnapped that ye're afraid o', and that's more like tae be close quarters combat."

Lyla nodded. She liked the idea of fighting with knives better than she did swords. They felt more comfortable in her hands.

"We'll start with what tae dae if someone grabs ye from behind, which is one o' the most likely situations fer ye tae find yerself in." Daemon stepped behind her, close enough for her to feel the heat of his body against her back. His arms wrapped around her in an imitation of a grab. "Try tae escape."

Lyla struggled, but she couldn't break his grip. She tried to elbow his ribs, kick her heel up into his groin, and whip her head back into his face. He evaded her attempts easily, and held her back by sheer brute strength when she tried to lunge forward out of his arms. Finally, she stopped, gasping.

"'Twas a good attempt. But there's a few things ye can dae that will aid yer efforts." Daemon spoke. "Kickin' intae the groin's nae a bad idea, but the angle's difficult. ‘Tis better tae aim fer the ankle or the knee. Ye can stomp the toes too, but that doesnae work if they have thick boots."

Lyla tried his suggestions. If she bent her knee so her lower leg was parallel to the ground, her heel could connect solidly with Daemon's knee, and shifting her weight meant she could kick the ankle.

"Good. And trying tae elbow me in the ribs was a good move, but ‘tis best tae aim a little more tae the center line. Shift tae one side or the other in my grip and drive yer elbow back intae my midriff."

Lyla tried that too. Daemon didn't make it easy on her, but eventually she managed to land a blow just under his sternum with enough force to make him grunt. "Good."

Afterward, he showed her how to use her fingers to break a man's grip, if he wasn't wearing heavy gloves and arm guards.

After that, they repeated the lesson with being grabbed from the front, by the shoulders, wrist or the shirtfront. That was much easier, as she was facing her targets, and had more room to move.

From there, he showed her how to hold a dagger, how to draw it with the minimum amount of movement, and how to use it when her arms were slightly pinned. It wasn't easy, but Lyla managed to follow his instructions with the practice blade, despite her growing distraction.

For some reason, Daemon's closeness made it harder for her to concentrate. The warmth of his body close to hers and the feel of his hands holding her – it made her stomach feel strange, like she'd swallowed butterflies. At the same time, it made her feel warm, like she was sitting next to a roaring fire, or wrapped in a puddle of sunlight.

Daemon didn't seem to feel the same, or else he was far better than she was at keeping the feeling under control. His hands were steady as he guided her through one set of maneuvers after another.

The sun set, and Daemon lit a lantern he'd brought with him. They worked in the dark for perhaps half a candle-mark when Daemon finally called a halt. "We should be getting back tae the keep." He smiled at her. "Ye're a quick learner. I didnae expect tae cover half so many lessons. Ye've skill with knives and a good instinct fer striking."

Lyla flushed under his praise. "I suppose it runs in the blood. I'm just glad tae have some o' me sister's talent – enough tae be able tae hold me own eventually, I hope."

"Judging from the way ye did taenight, I'd say it's likely that ye'll be capable o' defending yerself well with a little more practice and training."

Lyla nodded. "Well, I dae have a very good teacher. Ye're quite skilled in fighting."

Daemon grimaced. "I had tae be a good warrior. Especially after the feud that took me parents and Alyn's. They fought side by side, but when both our faithers fell, our maithers didnae last much longer."

"That must have been a difficult time fer ye." Lyla felt a stab of sympathy. She knew he'd become a laird at a relatively young age, but she hadn't ever learned the details. "Tae lose yer family like that…"

"'Twas a danger we all faced. But becoming a laird at twenty wasnae easy. I wasnae ready fer the responsibilities. Even less ready tae become Alyn's guardian, but there was nae one else tae care fer her." Daemon shook his head. "I didnae ken whether I was tae be her elder braither or her faither, most times. But I couldnae leave her adrift either."

"Ye did well fer her." Lyla reached out and put a hand on his arm. "She seems happy and content in yer care. And yer people like and respect ye, so ‘tis clear ye've done well as a laird too. Even if ye feel ye werenae ready, ye've led yer clan tae prosperity, and nae all lairds, even older ones, can say the same."

They were standing close, and she found herself looking up into his eyes. The warmth of his breath ghosted across her face and blew through the strands of her hair that had come undone during their practice. Lyla found herself leaning into his arm just a little more, looking up to his face.

Daemon's eyes were unreadable as he gazed down at her. His hands were gentle and warm on her shoulders as he held her in a grip that felt more like an embrace than anything else.

In the woods, something cracked. Daemon tensed at once, eyes snapping up to survey their surroundings. Lyla stepped back as he reached for the sword at his waist. "Daemon?"

"We're nae alone, and we need tae get back tae the keep now." Daemon drew his sword, and Lyla drew the dagger she normally wore. Then Daemon grabbed her free hand, and the two of them turned and raced fer the keep, just as a dozen men burst from the forest and charged after them.