Chapter 6

Practicing by the loch was always soothing to Marcus. It was a place that was all his own, and it was a good place to run through sword forms, or just sit and think, as he needed.

For today, he was happy to run through his forms until the sweat ran down his body, and he cast aside his shirt and upper garments for more comfort. The weather was excellent. The sun shone in the sky, warming the air, while a brisk breeze teased his hair and offered a bit of cooling to offset the sun’s warmth.

He’d spent a few hours working with the secondary war leader of Clan MacLean, and the leader of the warriors who had accompanied Laird MacDougall to get an idea of what sort of skills and strengths they were working with. He’d even gone several rounds of sparring with multiple opponents, learning their styles and their techniques. Now he was enjoying a lazy, relaxing moment to himself while the sweat dried and his mind and body relaxed from the strenuous workouts.

He wondered if Darren and Erin had managed a productive conversation after he’d left, and if Erin had succeeded in catching his brother’s attention. He doubted she could fully seduce Darren in an afternoon. Darren was too much a gentleman, and Erin was far too inexperienced in such things. But any sort of cordial conversation between the two might lead to more, and he could help Erin build upon that.

He resolutely ignored the fleeting and foolish thought that he’d rather not help her seduce his brother. He’d rather benefit from her lessons himself.

“Gods above, of all people tae bump into. If it isnae Marcus MacLean.” The voice of the last person he expected to hear from made him turn.

Erin stood a few feet away, dressed once more in boyish trews, kilt and blouse. She was carrying her weapons, and it was clear that she’d either been at practice with her weapons or was looking for a partner.

He smirked lazily. “’Tis a public space, ye are welcome tae join.”

She flushed.

“Are ye interested in a friendly bit o’ sparring?” He added.

Erin looked at him defiantly. “Dinnae think ye can best me, remember our last encounter.”

“Wouldnae dare consider it.”

Her blush deepened, and he noticed her glancing at his bare chest. She then averted her gaze and tossed a sparring blade at him. “Ye brute... I hope ye regret the bruises I’m about tae give ye.”

He suspected he would, be he also thought the experience would be worth it, to see how she reacted to his proximity, especially with so much bare skin on display. He had initially been tempted to jest her but decided against it, although he was surprised at her reaction given her training as a soldier. She would have seen many a bare chest in her years as a warrior.

They came together in a clatter of practice swords, dancing in an easy match of skill. Then Marcus took advantage of an opening to close in, close enough that the sweat-sheened skin of his chest was within an inch, perhaps two, of her hands. He grinned at her sudden look of discomfort, then slipped around so he was behind her, chest against her back. “Nae distracting ye am I, me lady?”

He took an elbow to the ribs that winded him for a moment, but she blushed crimson, and he had the satisfaction of seeing that her next attack wasn’t nearly as steady or as smooth as it might usually be. Then she attacked him again, and he went on the defensive.

She was a better warrior than he, and fresh, where he’d been practicing for some time already. It was no surprise when she disarmed him a minute or so later, and put her blade to the hollow of his throat.

He still had a weapon in his arsenal though, and he was more than willing to use it. “Ye’re a fair fighter, me lady. On this battlefield, at least.” He lowered his voice to the deep tone that he’d seen send shivers up many a lass’s spine, and dared to take a step forward, breathing deep to call her attention to the defined muscles of his torso. “Could ye match me in other dances, ye’d be a fierce and dangerous opponent indeed.”

She blushed, and her sword faltered. He took the chance to sidestep her with a laugh. She threatened him with the blade a moment later, and he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Peace lass. ‘Tis nae trick, merely an observation.”

To his surprise, her shoulders slumped. “I ken.” She looked unhappy. “I tried tae dae everything ye said, but I couldnae get him tae look twice at me. And when we played chess, all he said was that I was as decent a player as any o’ his men.” Her voice was plaintive. “I dinnae ken what tae dae.”

It was embarrassing, facing off against a shirtless, attractive man, much less doing so while talking about her failed attempts at seducing another. Fortunately, Marcus must have guessed at something of her mood, because he only offered her a sympathetic look, and gestured for her to sit down. “Here, take a moment tae relax.”

Hesitantly, she set her practice blade aside and moved to sit beside him on the shore of the loch. She expected him to start giving her a lesson, but instead he waved a hand to the view before them. “What dae ye think?”

She looked around. “’Tis a lovely view. Very quiet and secluded.” Then, because she couldn’t seem to help needling him, she added. “It seems a bonny place tae bring yer lovers and offer them a touch o’ romance.”

To her surprise, he shook his head. “I dinnae bring lasses here. ‘Tis pretty enough, but when I’m seeking a tumble amid the sheets, I dinnae want tae be so far from a bed. Beside that, this place is mine. ‘Tis the place I come tae sort through me thoughts and catch me breath.” His glance went to her. “Ye’re nae the first tae find me here, but ye’re the first I’ve ever been inclined tae share the space with.”

She wasn’t sure what to think of that, and decided she was better off ignoring his words and their potential implications. “I’m gratified.”

For a few minutes, they sat in silence, enjoying the wind on their faces. Then Marcus spoke again. “How did ye fare in the chess game with me brother?”

She blushed. “He’s a braw player, but I won the game in the end. ‘Twas only after that I recalled I hadnae intended tae try tae gain his regard that way.”

Marcus chuckled. “Ye’re far too competitive and stubborn. ‘Tis nae what most men look fer in a woman.” He shook his head. “I dinnae think ‘tis something Darren wouldnae like, mind ye, but ye need tae balance it with softness and kindness, and a little bit o’ lightheartedness.”

“Lightheartedness? Ye mean joking?” She wasn’t sure she could do that, not when her family was scarcely over the formal period of mourning for her sister.

“Nae necessarily. Just... smile more often. Give yerself permission tae be a bit lighthearted.”

She snorted. “Yer brother would think I’ve been drinking. And me faither surely would.”

“Nae if ye dae it right. Ye respect me brother, dae ye nae?”

“Aye. O’ course.” She couldn’t say she felt anything other than respect and perhaps a bit of admiration for Darren MacLean, but she did respect him.

“Then ‘tis a matter o’ making it look as if ye respect him enough tae relax a bit and admit ye’re a woman around him, rather than acting like a warrior who happens tae have a woman’s body.”

“How?”

“Think o’ the way ye’ve seen a group o’ young maids acting over a litter o’ kittens, or newborn pups. The way they smile, and the way they talk. Try tae imitate the expressions they wear, and the voice they use.”

She turned that over in her mind. “I’ve never heard that they speak tae their lovers the same way they speak tae… kittens.”

“Nae, but ye need softness tae ease yer attempts at seduction. Ye look too stiff otherwise. Too stiff and too self-conscious.” Marcus gestured fer her tae try it. “Just dae yer best.”

She thought about the way Lyla had behaved when one of the castle cats had delivered a litter underneath her bed. She tipped her head to one side and tried to imitate the easy smile and the soft, cooing voice her sister had used. “Och, arenae ye a pretty thing? Yes, ye are... the prettiest thing in the keep…”

Her concentration shattered as Marcus guffawed, doubled over and held his sides as he howled with mirth. Erin waited for him to get himself under control, until finally the warrior looked up with sparkling eyes. “Och, I’d give a pouch o’ gold tae hear ye call Darren a ‘pretty little thing’, especially in that tone o’ voice.”

The image filled her mind, and she found herself relaxing and laughing along with him. She’d initially been offended that he was laughing at her, but his explanation soon soothed her hurt feelings. And she had to admit it was funny to imagine the reaction of Laird MacLean and her father, if she were to do such a thing.

Well, she could use different words. She tried again, thinking of the way she sometimes – very rarely, but sometimes – talked to her horse. “Ye’re a handsome fellow, and such a good lad, yes ye are…”

She dissolved into laughter again, this time without needing any explanation for Marcus’s muffled snickering. She couldn’t picture calling Darren as a ‘good lad’ either.

Once their laughter had subsided, Marcus looked at her. His eyes gleamed. “Och, lass, if ye could see yer face now, the way ye’re smiling and confident, and combine it with what I’ve been telling ye, ye’d nae have a bit o’ trouble with Darren or any other man whose fancy ye wanted tae catch.”

She sucked in a breath. Was it really so simple?

She took a deep breath, in and out, then let any thought of enticement or seduction fade away. Then she stepped closer to Marcus and dropped her voice, and her eyes. “Such hard work ye’ve been doing... should I bring ye a drink, me laird?” She let amusement color her tone, and stood close enough to feel the heat of his breath against her cheek.

Marcus stepped back, then seemingly stumbled and toppled into the loch. He came up spluttering, but grinning. “Well done. That’s exactly the sort of behavior ye need tae adopt.”

Erin blushed, pleased by his praise. Then she swallowed, feeling unaccustomed nerves as she contemplated her earlier failures with Darren. “Maybe I can manage it with ye, when ye’re teaching me. But every time I have tae speak tae Laird MacLean, I feel like I’m on the edge o’ me first battle.”

Marcus shook wet hair out of his eyes. “I understand. Mayhap it will be easier if ye think o’ him as Darren, rather than Laird MacLean.”

She nodded. “But what if I cannae manage around him, even so?”

“’Tis easy enough tae sort. We’ll start by finding out if ‘tis Darren, or yer inexperience that makes ye unnerved.” Marcus waded from the loch. “Continue tae practice. If ye’ve nae worked up the ability tae seduce Darren in four days, then ye can come with me when I make me rounds tae the nearby village, and we’ll see if ye have a problem flirting with other men. If so, ‘tis yer shyness. If nae, then ‘tis just Darren, and there’s other ways around that.”

Erin considered the plan. “I dinnae want tae be considered a lightskirt, or a faithless temptress.”

“Any man who thinks it is a fool, and nae worth yer time, or yer attention.” Marcus shook his head. “And like as nae, there’s nae one ye’ll see in the village often, and nae one who will recognize ye. So, there’s naught tae be concerned about.”

Erin breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was right. “As ye say.” She hesitated. “Should we practice some more?”

Marcus paused, then shook his head. “Nae. We’ve both been absent from the keep fer long enough, I’m thinking. And in any case, I’m in need o’ dry garments afore we attend the evening meal.” He looked ruefully at his boots and kilt. “’Twas daft o’ me tae go intae the loch like that.”

Erin smirked. “’Twas.” She took his hand for a moment. “Thank ye fer all yer help. ‘Tis appreciated.”

“Ye’re welcome. Now, go on up, and I’ll come in a few minutes, so folk dinnae get the wrong idea.”

There was wisdom in his suggestion, so Erin gathered up her equipment, gave him a final smile of farewell, and returned to MacLean Keep, her heart lighter than it had been in days.