Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Adela barely spoke to her husband as they broke their fast, afraid he would continue to tease her about her increasing curiosity. She certainly could not deny it. Had it not leaped in response to his promised gift, it would have done so after his astonishing declaration that he expected her to slap him. She could not imagine striking him—not without far more provocation than he had provided.

He had stirred her ire more than once, but naught that was slapworthy, even had she been a woman inclined to slapping large men.

Sakes, she thought, she had never even slapped Hugo. And he had offered her ten times the provocation that Robert had.

Curiosity continued to burn in her, giving her to understand better than ever before her more curious sisters' impatience to satisfy theirs. But at last he ate the last bite of his bread, swallowed the last few drops of his ale, and stood up.

"You'll need suitable clothes," he said. "You don't want to spoil that gown."

"I thought about that earlier," she said. "Sorcha may have left things here, things Isobel lent her. But if Sorcha wore Isobel's clothes, I can, too."

"Let's go see," he said. "There's a kist with a few items in it upstairs. I ought to have thought of that this morning, but I had other things on my mind."

She felt a rush of flames to her cheeks at the memory of what had diverted him. But he said no more about it, and she let him hurry her upstairs.

They found two garments in the kist that she thought would fit her.

Accepting his help, she donned the plainer one, a simple blue kirtle with red silk front lacing. As she tied the embroidered girdle that went with it low on her hips, she glanced at him to judge his reaction.

"Very becoming," he said. "I hope you don't mind if it gets dirty."

"Why should it?"

"You'll see. Come with me." He led her back down-stairs and out to the courtyard. "To do this properly I'd take you out on that grassy hillside yonder. But until I know what danger may come our way, we'll stay here in the yard."

Determined not to give him more reason to tease her by demanding further information, she followed meekly until they reached the farthest corner of the courtyard, where two pairs of men were wrestling.

Setting the four to new tasks without explanation, Rob faced her and said, "Now, lass, do as you have been yearning to do and slap me as hard as you can."

The invitation was tempting to say the least, but she said with dignity, "I don't slap people, sir, however irritated with them I may be."

"No? I'll wager you would happily have done so when I warned you not to be too kind to Archie Tayt this morning. For that matter, where is the woman who snapped that I was a fool after the arrow struck, the one who swore she wanted to slap the lady Ellen … that is, Lady Logan?"

"I should not have said that about her," Adela said. "It was wrong of me, and if you want me to apologize, I will do so."

"Nay, for that lass wants slapping. I hope she suited Will as a wife, for I can tell you that she would not have suited me."

"You are unfair, sir," she said, wondering even as she did why she was defending Lady Ellen. "Mayhap she would have behaved differently had your father and hers allowed you to wed when the two of you wanted to."

"Sakes, I'm not sure now that she ever wanted me, for I had naught to offer her. And as you heard, she counts her worth high. Looking back, I'd not be astonished to learn that Will was the one she wanted from the start."

"Did you not love her?"

He frowned. "Whatever I may have thought then, I doubt that I did." "But you must have cared greatly to have left home over it as you did."

"You make too much of it all. I was hot for the notion and lusty for the lass, so when she took my brother instead of me, it stung my pride, that's all. I'm more than content with the wife I have. Now, slap me."

It was more than tempting, nearly irresistible. But Adela couldn't do it.

Rob watched her closely. The last thing he wanted was to drop his guard with her, not because he feared her strength but because he feared her remorse if she managed through his own carelessness to clout him a hard one. He wanted to teach her a lesson, not earn another one himself.

It hadn't dawned on her yet that every man-jack in the place knew him well. But it soon would, and he did not want it to happen because they all burst into laughter at him for letting a woman knock him silly.

She was still gaping at him as if he were daft, so he said, "Come now. Just pretend that I'm Ellen and give me a good smack."

"I am not going to slap you. Even if I were the sort who would, I certainly won't do it here in front of your men—or Hugo's, since they are probably his."

"Aye, but they need not concern you, for you won't be able to hit me. That's what I want to prove to you. Now, give it a try."

"So you do this to mock me," she said, bristling. "To make me look foolish."

"To teach you. They'll all see that if you do not. Now, do as I bid you."

She rewarded him with that increasingly familiar, narrow look.

He met it soberly. Then he put his hands on his hips and spread his legs, bracing himself, wondering as he did if he would have to make her truly angry before he would be able to teach her.

She looked around the yard and must have gained confidence from seeing the men occupied with their tasks. None seemed to be paying the two of them any heed—not any that she would discern, at all events.

She raised her hand at last and took an open-handed swing at him.

He blocked it easily, catching her slender wrist gently in his right hand and holding it. "Try again," he said, releasing her. "Swing harder."

Three times more she repeated the same action, each time with the same result. And each time he issued the same grim command to try again. The fourth time, she gritted her teeth, and hope stirred. Her determination—or frustration—was increasing, but once more he caught her wrist easily with his right hand.

"Harder, woman. Have you no muscles in those wee arms of yours?"

She grimaced, drew her arm back as far as she could, and let fly.

Catching her hand again, he said provocatively, "Ellen could hit harder."

"I suppose you know that for a fact," she snapped, suddenly rushing at him, flailing with both hands and striking hard enough that when he caught both wrists he feared she might have bruised the one he held in his right hand.

Rubbing the area gently with his thumb, he said nonetheless sternly, "You won't do it, not that way, but at least now you see that you cannot defend yourself by reacting impulsively, without forethought."

"If this is supposed to make me more confident, I fail to see how," she said grimly, jerking her hand from his grasp and rubbing the wrist herself.

He rested his hands on her shoulders. "What will build your confidence," he said, "is learning skills that will nearly always work, where your smaller size may even prove helpful."

"Like what?"

"First, you need to consider the advantages you have," he said, still holding her close and looking into her eyes.

"Mercy, sir, I have none that protected me against Waldron."

"You're wrong, lass. As I told you last night, you did well against him. The proof is that you are here with me today and he is dead."

She shrugged. "Not through anything I did."

"Aye, perhaps, but from what I heard before and what you've told me since, I know you did not panic. You remained calm and able to talk sensibly with him."

"He talked to me rather than I to him," she said.

"He'd not have done that had you been the hysterical female I'll warrant he expected you to be. Sithee, I knew him. He was a villain to his black soul, a brutal man who believed that he acted in God's name and God supported all he did."

"I know, but—"

"We are not going to talk of Waldron now," he said. "I mean to teach you that you have weapons you've already proven you can use successfully. You are sensible, Adela, and you retain your common sense in situations where many women—and men, too—would abandon theirs."

"But how can common sense prevent such a thing from happening again?"

"You'll not be so trusting of strangers. Recall that you stepped toward him, despite his being masked and riding through your wedding guests to reach you."

"Aye, but I thought he must be … someone we knew."

"I ken fine what you thought," he said. "But the best way to defend yourself against attack is to avoid putting yourself in the way of it. If something looks wrong to you, trust yourself. Don't persuade yourself that it isn't wrong; just avoid the situation. For one thing, don't ever let yourself be alone where you may invite attack. Don't ride or walk alone anywhere, especially now."

"I wouldn't," she said.

"Good." He released her and stood facing her, his hands on his hips again. "Now think of me as the enemy. What do you see?"

She smiled wryly. "I see my husband looking arrogant and sure of himself."

"Most men who mean harm to you will look so," he said. "They have only to see you to assume you're weaker than they are and thus defenseless against them."

"In most cases, they would be right."

"In most cases, that will be your first weapon against them," he countered. "You want your enemy to think you defenseless, to believe he is in control. If you don't see him coming and cannot run or hide, you need to be able to surprise him. So let him see what he expects to see whilst you give yourself a moment to evaluate the situation, to clear your thinking. The key is to act as soon as possible after you sense a threat but not so hastily that you defeat yourself. The action you take may prove to be as simple as leaving the room. If you've given no indication that you sense a threat, your enemy may well assume that you'll return."

"And if he doesn't?"

"We'll discuss that later. How to surprise him is the first thing to think about. What can you do that he won't expect? For this first lesson, I want you to think why you might want to slap someone—not me, but a man you suspect means you harm."

"To make him stop," she said, frowning. "But if he truly means me harm, he would just slap me back, or worse."

"Aye, so slapping won't aid you much. You want to do something more useful, something that stops him long enough for you to obey the first rule, which is to get away. You need to hurt him, lass, and you cannot pause to wonder if you should. If you feel threatened, it's his own damn fault and you have every right to defend yourself. You must do it, and you must mean it."

She nodded, but he doubted that she believed him. She was tenderhearted, always a strong disadvantage in battle.

"You strike where he is weakest," he went on. "You strike hard and not with just your open hand."

"With a fist?" Clearly, she could not imagine it.

"Show me your hand," he said, holding his out.

She obeyed, displaying long slender fingers and neat, well-shaped nails.

"Make it stiff, like this," he said, showing her, his hand straight, his fingers pressed together. Then he touched his fingertips to her throat and pressed gently.

She pulled away quickly. "That hurts!"

"Aye, it is one place you can be sure to hurt him if you strike hard enough, especially with your nails. His eyes and nose are good targets, too. But the surest way a woman can hurt a man is by kicking, kneeing, or striking him here in the cods," he said, touching himself. "If you strike hard enough, you'll incapacitate him long enough to escape, especially if he's not well-trained in fighting or is relaxed and believes you don't threaten him. We'll try that first," he said. "I'll show you."

"It would be easier if I were to practice such things in lad's clothing, would it not?" she said as he moved her into position.

"You need to learn to manage in skirts, sweetheart. The chance that you'll meet an enemy whilst wearing male clothing is small. But if you've learned to deal with your skirts, you'll manage well no matter what you're wearing. Strike fast," he said. "And if you can grip his shoulders as you lift your knee or foot, you'll steady yourself and pull him toward you, so you'll do even more damage. But after you strike, don't linger to study the result. Always remember the first rule, and when you can, run as if the devil himself were after you."

She nodded, sober now and paying close heed. "What else?"

"That is sufficient for a first lesson," he said. "We'll practice the things I've shown you for a while now. Tomorrow I'll teach you more, but I want you to practice the things you learn, just as my men-at-arms would."

"Every day?"

"Aye," he said. "It does no good for me just to tell you what you should do. You must try it over and over until you feel sure you'll remember. There is one thing that will help you, though, with every skill I teach you," he added. "Watch your opponent's eyes, not his hands or feet, or even his weapon if he holds one. His eyes will tell you more about his intentions than anything else will."

Adela had listened carefully and was grateful for his teaching, although she doubted she would ever have recourse to such tactics or that they would help her if she did. That she might successfully defend herself against a man determined to do her harm seemed absurd. But the fact that Rob thought she could was oddly endearing, and that he would take time to teach her even more so.

"Come now," he said. "I'll show you over Hawthornden later. You should know your own ground well. And as we'll stay here until I can be sure Lestalric is safe for us, unless Hugo returns unexpectedly and we're forced to remove—"

"Why forced?" she asked. "Do you think Hugo would turn us out?"

"Sakes," he protested. "To think I congratulated myself only yesterday on having married a woman who so delightfully lacked curiosity!"

"I don't mean to pry," she protested. "Indeed, I don't know why I am so curious about things now. I never used to be."

He smiled then and put his arm around her. "Sweet-heart, don't apologize for being normal. Does it not occur to you that you may have had little cause to display curiosity before leaving the Highlands? From all I've heard, you spent most of your time managing your father's household and looking after your sisters. Until you left, there must have been little to stir curiosity, but the fact is that the more we learn the more we find to arouse it. As to Hugo, all I meant was that I'd prefer more privacy than we'll have if they return. The preference is selfish, too, because it is my duty to see to Lestalric. But my inclination is to let Henry's man of affairs set everything in order there whilst I stay here and learn more about my wife."

"What about Lady Ellen?"

His smile disappeared. "What about her?"

"Is it not her right to live at Lestalric, as it was mine to live at Loch Alsh with Ardelve's son? Lady Ellen has made no secret of wanting you. Might she not resist leaving the castle? It has been her home, after all, for many years."

"Aye, but she is with her mother now, and even if she had contemplated such a plan, I doubt the Douglas would allow it. Moreover, when she learns that I have married, she'll look elsewhere soon enough."

"Will she?"

"Aye, sure. She won't want long for a husband. Unless I misread him, your friend de Gredin looked to be taking an interest in her. Now, come, try to strike me again. Stay, though," he said, looking beyond her. "I've a better notion."

She turned and saw Archie Tayt striding toward them. "Surely, you don't mean for me to do any of those things you suggested to him!"

"I mean for you to try," he said, adding casually, "I doubt you will succeed. Although if you truly want to, I suspect you could."

She wanted to show him she was perfectly capable of doing the things he had taught her, but she was reluctant to hurt Archie. "He is not my enemy," she said.

"Nay, but he is well trained. If any lass managed to strike him, he'd deserve flogging, but I'd like you to see how close you can come to success even with a trained man-at-arms. Sakes, if you do hit him, I'll give you your present at once and I won't order him punished, although his pride will suffer."

Archie approached, carrying a small cloth bundle.

"Is that what I asked you to find for me?" Rob asked.

"Aye, sir," Archie replied.

"Good, toss it to me and just stand there for a moment."

Eyeing him warily, Archie obeyed.

As he tucked the bundle under his arm, Rob said, "I've been teaching my lady wife some things about defending herself. I want her to try to slap you."

Glancing at Adela, then back at Rob, Archie Tayt looked horrified.

Rob chuckled and said, "Don't fear her, Arch. She's nobbut a wee lassock."

"Aye, sure, but I dinna want her to slap me."

Rob shrugged. "Then don't let her."

Adela saw him smile at Archie and realized he expected her to fail. Pride welled in her along with a touch of anger and grim determination to prove him wrong. He was so arrogant sometimes, so sure about everything that it made her itch to show him he was not the only one who could teach lessons.

She approached Archie with a reassuring smile, looking into his eyes. The poor man, as large as he was, was clearly nervous and kept glancing at Rob as if seeking guidance as to exactly how Rob wanted him to act.

Without looking away from Archie's blue eyes, Adela made her expression rueful. "Are you sure you don't mind, Archie?" she asked in a small voice.

He shook his head, but she saw him swallow hard.

"It should not matter to you if he does mind," Rob said sternly. "You just think about what I taught you and see if you can get close enough to make him alter his opinion a wee bit about how weak women are."

"Do you think women are weak, Archie?" she asked gently.

"Aye, mistress, I ken fine that they are, because …"

She drew her arm back the way she had the first time she'd tried to slap Rob.

"… well, they be but lassies and no as strong as—"

His words ended in a sharp cry, for although he had been watching her eyes, he flicked a glance at Rob as she raised her hand. She had anticipated such a glance, and before his gaze darted back to her, she stiffened her rising hand and abruptly shifted direction to stab hard instead at the target between his legs.

He had pulled his head back, clearly believing he could easily make her miss his face. But at the last second he saw her true intent and jerked up his left knee to counter it. She had been too quick, though, and her hand slid over the knee, striking him higher than she had intended but making him gasp and cry out nonetheless.

Reacting even as the cry escaped him, he caught her shoulders, holding her arm's length away from him.

Adela stiffened at being grabbed so, but one look at his anxious face assured her that he sought only to protect himself from further injury.

Rob burst out laughing so hard that he doubled over, hands on his knees.

Temper rising, Adela grasped Archie's big hands and firmly removed them, then turned and strode purposefully toward her husband.

He sensed her approach and looked up, grinning widely, still gasping, tears of hilarity streaming down his cheeks.

Without breaking stride, she put her hands on both of his shoulders and shoved as hard as she could. He dropped the bundle and grabbed for her, but she easily eluded him, and he landed hard on his backside on the dusty cobbles.

"That's for making Archie the goat of your daft game," she said fiercely. "You should think shame to yourself for taking such callous advantage of him."

A large but gentle hand on her arm made her look away from Rob to find Archie looming over her, looking more unsettled than ever. "Please, m'lady," he said as his gaze flicked unhappily toward Rob. "Dinna be wroth wi' him to defend me. He's no a man wha' takes kindly to such."

Rob was on his feet with the little bundle he'd dropped in his left hand. "Stand away from my lady, Archie," he said as he moved toward them.

Seeing the look of angry intent on his face, Adela stepped backward.

"Here, man," Archie protested. "What d'ye mean to do to her?"

"I've a few more things to teach her," Rob said grimly, reaching for her.

Adela stepped back again. "Don't touch me," she snapped.

"Too late for that," he said, wrapping his right arm around her waist and lifting her off her feet. "Archie, tell those lads yonder to stop laughing and get back to their chores. And, whilst you're at it, thank your Maker that I promised her ladyship I'd not punish you if she managed to slip anything past your guard."

Archie nodded, and Adela, thus reminded that Archie might still be in some peril, stopped kicking, tried to get a breath, and prayed that Rob would not drop her.

He carried her thus one-armed up the steps to the castle's main entrance. One of the men having the presence of mind to run ahead and open the door for them, Rob strode in and stopped on the landing, kicking the door shut behind them before he set her on her feet.

"Upstairs," he said curtly.

"What are you going to do?"

"Go," he said, smacking her on the backside.

Grimacing, she snatched up her skirts and hurried upstairs ahead of him to the bedchamber they'd shared. Pushing the door open, she turned to face him.

"I only did what you—"

He was grinning at her, his eyes alight with laughter and something else that changed any anxiety she felt to a tingling that spread through her entire body.

"Come here," he said, his voice low in his throat.

She hesitated. "I thought you were furious. You had every reason to be. I don't know what possessed me. I swear to you, I almost never do things like that. And in front of your men! Mercy, I would not blame you if you—"

"You must learn to obey when I speak to you, madam wife," he said, catching her arm and pulling her close, then capturing her lips with his. His right hand moved to the red silk lacing of her kirtle as his tongue plunged into her mouth.

Moments later, they were naked on the bed, writhing together, enjoying passion that Adela had not known could exist, passion that seemed only to increase with every touch and movement.

"Ah, lass, you do things to me I did not know women could do to men," he said as he rolled atop her and moved a hand to the fork of her legs, using his fingers to ignite fire there.

"I'm not doing anything," she said, arching against him. "You …" She cried out as the fingers plunged into her, then moaned when they left her and gasped as, in place of them, he began to insert his—

Hammering on the door startled them both, and Rob muttered a curse that made Adela gasp again before he shouted, "What the devil do you want?"

"Beg pardon, sir, but Prince Henry of Orkney be below, and he says ye must come gey quick. He said to tell ye there's been murder done and they may be a-coming for ye straightaway."

"Mercy!" Adela exclaimed. "What can have happened now?"

Grimly, Rob said, "Did one of you brainless louts tell Orkney I was occupied, doubtless beating my wife?"

Silence.

"Just as I thought. Go back and tell him I said he should go boil his head."

"But, sir—"

"Go!" Rob roared.

Cheeks aflame as she imagined having to face Henry after sending him such a message for such a reason, Adela protested. "We cannot keep him waiting whilst we stay here like this!"

"Aye, sure we can," Rob said, resuming where he had stopped. "But what if he meant what he said? What if someone really has been killed? What if—"

Silencing her the best way he knew how, Rob pressed his lips to hers and his hand to one breast. Teasing the nipple as he plundered her mouth, he eased himself inside her. He was throbbing, his body more eager than ever for her. His shoulder ached, both from his ignominious fall and the exercise, but he did not care a whit.

She responded then, stroking his back and buttocks, kissing him passionately, arching to meet him as he thrust into her. He moved slowly, then faster, until he could feel himself nearly there, almost … almost …

"Robert! Damnation, man, this is no time for idling. I must talk with you!"

Groaning, Rob collapsed atop his wife, muttering imprecations. "So help me," he said. "If someone is not dead, Henry soon will be."