Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“ I s that what ye will wear?” Billie asked when she entered Abigail’s chambers the next morning to find her already up and preparing for the day. She had one of Billie’s dresses on, since her own clothes were all back home and the only thing she had were the travelling clothes Hugo had secured for them. It was a beautiful garment, light blue and trimmed with lace at the hem and sleeves.

Looking down at herself, Abigail frowned. “Dae ye nae like it? I think it’s rather nice.”

“Och aye,” said Billie, laughing softly. “Too nice, in fact. How will ye learn tae fight in this? Ye’ll dirty it immediately. If ye can even move freely in it, that is. Best tae reserve it fer dinner.”

Abigail looked at her reflection in the looking glass, pouting a little. She supposed Billie was right—she would be learning to fight, not trying to impress potential suitors.

Only that was precisely what she was trying to do.

Even now, she didn’t know what Hugo wanted from her, nor did she know how to ask him, so instead, she decided to do the next best thing: try to impress him as much as she could in the hopes that he would finally make the next move himself.

“Well, how dae ye ken what I should wear when I fight?” Abigail asked, turning around to look at her sister. “Have ye ever fought?”

“A little,” Billie said with a small shrug. “Enough tae tell ye that ye should wear somethin’ else.”

It was not the answer Abigail had expected and she raised a curious eyebrow as she walked over to the dresser to pull out another garment. “Who have ye fought?”

“Domnhall has shown me some things,” said Billie with a small shrug. “An’ so have others. I wanted tae ken how tae defend meself if I had tae, so I asked them tae show me.”

It was rare to find out something about her sister that Abigail didn’t already know, and the fact that it was news to her was more startling than the news itself. It made sense, though. After everything they had all gone through, not only her and Billie, but also Evangeline and Keira, it was only prudent for them all to know how to fight enough, to at least keep themselves safe.

In the end, Abigail found a simpler dress, one that neither she nor Billie would mind staining, and she put it on quickly with Billie’s help, knowing they had already taken too long up there. Once she was dressed, she thanked her sister with a hug and the two of them left the room to head down to the training grounds.

Abigail smiled at her as the two of them reached the training grounds, only to find the men there already. Hugo, Domnhall, and Ellair were all fighting each other—or rather, they were playing, swinging their swords around and trying to dare each other to come close so they could deliver a blow. It seemed a little silly to her, how they were trying to taunt each other, jumping in and out of reach with seemingly zero regard to any injuries they could sustain.

Like bairns, the three o’ them.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Cormac would have joined them had he been there. She didn’t have to wonder about Iain, though; when it came to him, she knew for certain that he would take part.

Only when Domnhall spotted them did they stop playing, sheathing their swords so that they could approach. Abigail and Billie joined them, and for a moment, Abigail couldn’t bring herself to meet Hugo’s gaze, the memories of the previous night rushing back to her and heating her cheeks.

Those hands that were now gripping the hilt of his sword had been all over her only mere hours prior, touching her and bringing her the most intense pleasure she could imagine. Those lips that were now arranged in a grin had kissed her all over, drawing moan after moan out of her.

“Good mornin’,” Domnhall said, snapping Abigail out of her impure thoughts. She cleared her throat and forced a smile onto her face, hoping it wouldn’t look too strained.

“Good mornin’,” she said. “I am ready fer the lessons. Where is me sword?”

Hugo laughed softly, shaking his head. “No sword for you just yet,” he said. “We must train you with a knife first.”

“An’ why is that?” Abigail asked, hands resting petulantly on her hips. “I can hold a sword.”

“When I last checked, women didn’t walk around carrying swords,” Hugo pointed out. “But you can carry a knife. And you can keep it hidden until the very moment you need it. Surprise is more useful to you than brute force.”

Abigail couldn’t argue with that. She supposed it made sense. If she had to fight a man twice her size, then a knife, especially a concealed one, would serve her better than a bulky sword. Besides, she wouldn’t be the one marching into battle. Any fighting that she might end up having to do would be against one opponent, at close range. Anything else sounded unlikely, if not entirely impossible.

“Here,” Ellair said, walking up to Abigail to hand her a knife. Though the blade was real enough, it was dull, unable to do anything but bruise, and Abigail was glad about that. The last thing she wanted was for her training to be cut short when it had barely started just because she managed to hurt herself or someone else. “We’ll start with this an’ then if yer nae too tired, we’ll give ye a sword.”

Much to her surprise, Domnhall handed Billie a sword instead and the two of them stepped a little to the side, putting some space between themselves and Abigail, Hugo, and Ellair, though they didn’t immediately start training.

“Alright,” said Hugo, taking a step closer to Abigail and taking out a knife of his own. “The first thing you must learn are the weak points.”

As he spoke he brought the knife down on her neck and Abigail froze in terror, her heart lurching in her chest, only for Hugo’s hand to still right before the blade met her skin. Instinctively, Abigail took a step back the moment she realized she could, and Hugo chuckled, pressing the blade against his own hand.

“It’s dull,” he said. “Don’t worry. I don’t wish to kill you.”

“Of course,” said Abigail. In retrospect, it was only natural that Hugo’s knife would be dull, too, but when she saw it arcing through the air heading straight for her throat, all she could think about was that she was going to die right then and there.

“Neck,” said Hugo, bringing his knife back down on the other side. Then he turned his grip and aimed close to her belly, the tip of his blade barely brushing over her dress. “Stomach. With the edge, not the tip. You’ll need plenty of strength to push the knife into someone like this.”

As he spoke, he made a stabbing motion just under her ribs, once again stopping just short of touching her. Abigail watched and listened closely, to keep everything he was telling her in mind.

“Ye can always go fer the eyes, too,” Ellair called from where he stood a little to the side, watching them. “Or the groin.”

“Ellair likes to fight with no honor,” said Hugo.

“There is little point in honor if yer are dead,” Ellair pointed out. “Dinnae listen tae him, Abigail. Ye should strike anywhere ye can.”

Abigail nodded, her hand tightening around the handle of her knife. Once she had those basics down, Hugo began to attack her slowly, showing her how to parry the blows and how to counterattack when the time was right. Abigail followed his instructions, trying to mimic his movements as best she could, and it seemed easier to her than she had thought it would be.

Then again, they were moving slowly, unlike what would happen in a real fight. She didn’t know how she would fare against him once they began training more rigorously.

It didn’t take long for her to get the chance to fight out. Once Hugo was satisfied that she knew how to effectively block his attacks and how to attack in return, he planted his feet on the ground and motioned her closer with a hand.

“Come,” he said. “Attack me.”

Abigail hesitated. She glanced over at Ellair, Domnhall, and Billie, who were all watching the two of them, but they only encouraged her with smiles and urging gestures.

“Go on!” Billie shouted. “Ye can dae it!”

Abigail turned back to look at Hugo as she drew in a steadying breath, holding her knife securely in her hand. Then, she rushed towards him and tried to attack his neck just as he had shown her, only for him to block her blow with ease. Abigail paused for a moment to gather her bearings, though she knew there wouldn’t be any time for that in a real fight, and Hugo let her, simply standing there as he waited for the next attack. Abigail tried again with the exact same movement, thinking that perhaps if she tried enough times, she would manage to perfect it, but once more, Hugo stopped her, pushing her gently back.

The next time Abigail attacked, Hugo parried the blow and pulled her close instead, pressing their bodies together. Abigail couldn’t help but freeze, her breath hitching and her body instinctively leaning closer, seeking his warmth. For a few moments, they did nothing but gaze in each other’s eyes, Abigail tilting her head as if she expected a kiss.

She wanted it. She wanted to drop her knife and kiss him, to push even closer to Hugo and taste the salt on his skin, bite his lip just to hear the sounds he would make. She wanted to be alone with him, to ask him for more and lose herself in her pleasure just like the previous night.

But then Hugo pulled back, half-heartedly attacking Abigail so that she could easily avoid the blow. When she looked at him in disbelief, he only gave her a mischievous grin.

“Again,” he said.

It went like this for what seemed like hours to her, though it couldn’t have been more than twenty or thirty minutes, with Abigail attacking and Hugo defending again and again until her forehead was coated in sweat and her breath came hard and fast, her lungs seemingly unable to draw in enough air. Sometimes, he would pull her close, their lips almost brushing as their bodies were brought together, his hands lingering on her body, his gaze falling to the slight part of her lips as she heaved. It took very little for him to work her into a frenzy, half from the fighting and half from the lust that rushed through her veins, Hugo’s teasing leaving her lightheaded. Contrary to her, though, Hugo seemed entirely unfazed, idly twirling his knife in his hand as he waited for Abigail’s next move.

Abigail, after a certain point, could hardly move at all.

“Can we take a break?” she asked. Her dress stuck to her back with sweat, the hem of it soiled with dirt and mud from a puddle where she had fallen. Even her hair, previously tucked into a night updo, now fell in strands over her eyes, obscuring he vision.

“Very well,” said Hugo, sheathing his knife. “You’re right. I’ve already shown you too much today. This will take time.”

By then, Domnhall and Billie were training as well, and it didn’t take long for Abigail to see just how good her sister was. She couldn’t always parry all of Domnhall’s attacks, but she was capable, usually meeting him halfway with no restraint, no fear.

It was a side of her Abigail had not yet seen and she couldn’t help but cheer for her, clapping her hands excitedly every time Billie managed to throw Domnhall off.

It also didn’t take her long to see that only half of what they were doing was training. The rest of the time, they laughed and kissed, Domnhall pulling her close to him whenever she allowed it to press their lips together. Seeing them sent a pang of pain through Abigail’s chest, as though a spear had been lodged in her heart. As happy as she was for her sister—and she was very happy for her that she had found Domnhall—Abigail wanted to experience this kind of love, too. She wanted to have what they had. She wanted to have someone who loved her this much, someone whom she could love with all her being.

Her gaze dragged over to Hugo, who was watching them with amusement. Abigail still hadn’t managed to speak with him and ask the question that had been on her mind all this time, but she was determined to do it soon. No matter what his answer would be, she wanted to know—she had to know. She would not rest until she did, as the doubt would not let her.

Even if Hugo was going to tell her that there was nothing more between them than a friendship, even if all her dreams would be shattered with nothing but a few words, at least she would have a definite answer.

She couldn’t ask him in front of everyone else, though. She would have to wait until they were alone, later that day.

As Billie’s and Domnhall’s fight came to an end, they approached them and Abigail looked at her sister in awe. “Ye’re so good at this. When did ye get so good?”

“She was worse than ye at first,” said Domnhall, laughing. “But she’s a very quick learner. An’ I’m sure ye’ll learn fast too, Abigail.”

Abigail could only hope so. With the threat of war looming over their heads, she wanted to be prepared for any possible outcome.

“Me laird!”

A guard’s voice reached them from the other side of the training grounds as the man rushed towards them. He, too, was coated in sweat, as though he had been running around the castle.

“The council is callin’ fer ye,” the man said as he gave Domnhall a bow. “They say Chattan forces have been seen near the borders, though they havenae yet breached them.”

Within seconds, Domnhall, Hugo, and Ellair were walking away from the training grounds, leaving Billie and Abigail behind. Abigail, though, frowned and followed them, running after them to catch up.

“Wait!” she said. “Will ye nae tell us what will happen now?”

“We must see the council,” Hugo pointed out, stopping to talk to Abigail as the others continued on their way. “I will tell you what I can afterwards.”

“Why can we nae be at the meetin’?” Abigail asked. “Dae I need tae remind ye that if I hadnae gone intae Castle Chattan, ye wouldnae even have any proof? Or if I hadnae overheard Niall an’ Finnian, we wouldnae ken about their plan at all?”

With a sigh, Hugo nodded and laid a gentle hand on Abigail’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said. “But you must understand, too, what this is like.”

Abigail didn’t, in fact, understand. She knew she and Billie and any other woman were unwelcome in the council meeting, but she couldn’t understand why. She had already done so much work and now they were telling her to stay put and do nothing, having no knowledge of what was happening with Clan Chattan.

“I will tell you everything I can, I promise,” Hugo said. “But for now, there is nothing you can do, Abigail. You’ve already done more than enough.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Abigail behind to stew in her anger. She had half a mind to go after him and demand to be allowed in the meeting, but she knew all her efforts would be in vain. Even if Hugo, Domnhall, and Ellair wanted her there, even if some of the council wouldn’t mind her presence, those who thought women had no place there would be too vocal to ignore.

Turning around to look at her sister in disbelief, she was only met with a shrug. Billie must be used to it, she thought, or perhaps she didn’t care so much about being included. Either way, she wasn’t drowning in rage as Abigail was.

She wouldn’t give up just yet, though. She had gone to all the trouble of getting that proof and she would be damned if she let a few old men keep her out of their plans.