Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy #3)(42)

She advanced on Caelen and poked a finger into his chest. “If I had my sword, those men would have never gotten close to me. They wouldn’t have shoved me to the snow. They wouldn’t have touched me. They wouldn’t have hit me.”

Ah, but the lass had worked herself into a fit of rage that was impressive to behold. It shamed him that he fair quivered with lust as she bore down on him aggressively as a warrior about to deliver a death blow.

’Twas all he could do not to bear her into the snow and divest her of her tunic and those hated trews.

“If you wanted a meek lady of the manor with all the social niceties and the proper grooming and breeding to be a perfect hostess and compliment to you, then you should have thought before you stepped forward to marry in your brother’s stead. He knew what he was getting.”

She planted her hands on her hips and stepped forward again until her chest was pressed against his midsection.

“I am none of those things. I have no desire to be those things. I had set my mind to relent and to apply myself to be the perfect wife, and then the men came across the brook and overpowered me as easily as they would a child. What good am I to you or to my clan if I cannot even defend myself? How am I supposed to protect my kin? The children? The other women of the keep? Will I stand over the graves of others and murmur that I was a good wife and a gracious lady? Will that be of comfort to their families? Will they forgive that I stood by and allowed their loved one to die because my husband wanted a wife who could smile prettily and curtsy without getting her feet tangled?”

Caelen battled the smile that threatened. He bit at his bottom lip and valiantly tried to keep his amusement at bay, for if he laughed now, she might well spit him on her dagger.

’Twas the truth he should be angry at her blatant show of disrespect. He should even now be reprimanding her. But ’twas the first sign of life he’d seen in the week since her attack, and God’s truth, she was glorious in her rage.

“Think you this is funny?” she demanded.

She shoved at him with all her might, surprising him with her sudden move. He went down in the snow, landing with a thud. He glared up at her as he dusted the snow from the tops of his legs.

She stood over him now, holding him captive with her fiery gaze. Then her expression became pained, and the shadows returned to her eyes.

“Let me be who I am, Caelen. I would not ask you to change who you are. I can help you if you’d let me. Don’t relegate me to the shadows, pulling me out only when ’tis convenient for you. Maybe ’tis the way of things in the world, but it doesn’t have to be that way for us.”

Caelen sighed as her impassioned plea made a direct hit to a region of his heart he’d long thought dead. “ ’Tis so important to you to dress as a man and wield a sword?”

She frowned and shook her head. “ ’Tis not the manner of dress that ’tis important. If you can show me how to successfully wield a sword in a woman’s gown, I’ll not gainsay you if you tell me not to wear this manner of dress again.”

“You can’t go about swinging a sword in a gown,” Caelen muttered. “You’d trip over the hem.”

For the first time she smiled, her eyes lighting up with more life than he’d seen in quite some time. “Then I have your permission to wear these garments?”

He sighed in disgust. “When have you ever sought my permission for anything, lass?”

“I can be accommodating,” she defended.

He rolled his eyes. “When it suits your purposes, aye.” Then he narrowed his gaze to stare intently at her. “There are conditions, Rionna. Henceforth, my commander will accompany you everywhere. And I mean everywhere. You’ll go nowhere unescorted. I’ll not have happen again what happened in my absence. If I have need of Gannon to accompany me, then Hugh will take over as your escort.”

She nodded her acceptance.

“Second, you’ll train with me and only with me. You are to spar with no other man. If you want to learn, you’ll be trained by the best, and I won’t be easy on you because you’re my wife.”

She grinned cheekily. “I would expect no less, husband.”

“You’ll not take to binding your br**sts.”

At that she raised an eyebrow and looked suspiciously at him.

He grinned lazily up at her. “ ’Tis not just for my pleasure. ’Tis nonsense. I may let you dress as a man, but you’ll not try to look like one.”

“Anything else, husband?” she asked as she tapped her foot in the snow.

“Aye, help me up.”

With a roll of her eyes, she reached down to give him her hand. The lass would never learn. He grasped her wrist and with a quick yank, tossed her into the snow beside him.

She rose up, snow covering her face, blinking at him as if she had no idea why he’d done such. He merely smiled back. “Revenge, lass. Revenge.”

With a disgusted look she launched herself at him, rolling them both into the snow. He gave a laugh and then came astride her. With a free hand, he balled some of the snow and held it menacingly over his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said.

He let fly and laughed again as she blinked away the snow from her face. It slid over her cheeks, revealing her look of shock. Then her eyes flashed with the light of battle.

Worried that her mistress and the laird had been out in the cold for so long, Sarah hurried to the doorway. When she opened the door, she was shocked to see the laird atop Rionna in the snow.