Part 16 (1/2)

Gwenyth halted. ”Don't you want to go up on the battlements?”

”Can't hear a thing from there, la.s.s. And I've no desire to climb all those stairs. I've a better spot in mind.”

Sim nodded in understanding. ”You wish to see but not be seen, my laird?”

”Aye.”

To Gwenyth's relief, their destination was close-bya”a small enclosure that, upon closer inspection, proved to be a balcony. If they remained in the shadows, no one on the practice field would know they were there, and they would be able to see and hear most everything. Angus ordered Sim to keep curious servants from disturbing them.

Gwenyth glanced about for someplace for Angus to sit down, but there was none. ”Perhaps this wasn't a good idea. You will have to standa””

”Aye, none to be done for it. And don't be making noises about returning to my room. I will watch my son.”

Anxious that Angus would not expire in her care, leaving her guilty of his death in addition to her other transgressions, Gwenyth turned her attention to the gra.s.sy field below. Her breath caught; to a man they were barechested, wearing only the small plaid kilted at their waists. Most were barefoot.

The sight was at once frightening and fascinating. As a child she'd watched her father's warriors in similar state of dress, but none had compared to Adam. She swallowed, her mouth and throat suddenly dry.

His torso was heavily muscled, despite what must have been a lengthy convalescence. Broad shoulders tapered to a firm waist and fine-drawn hips. The scar on his left arm, which she'd deliberately ignored during their swim, sliced a vivid purple line from the point of his shoulder, down the muscle of his upper arm. He must have been wearing protective garmentsa”a leather hauberk at the leasta”when he'd suffered the blow, for otherwise the arm would have been severed. As it was, she thought it a miracle he could use it at all.

But she'd touched the length of the scar, and the muscle had healed well. The damage to the shoulder probably gave him the most trouble, and she doubted he would ever regain the ability to lift the arm higher than his shoulder. Yet he would fight.

Indeed, Adam, Morogh, and several others struggled together in what appeared to be a skilled unit.

Leaning closer, Angus observed. ”Ah, see. The stubborn lad took my advice, after all.”

”What advice was that?” Gwenyth kept her voice low.

”Why, to work out a system to protect his weak side.”

”Really?”

Warming to the subject, Angus explained. ”See there, how they guard his left? Adam swings the sword well with his right arm, he always did. But now 'tis difficult to block and parry an overhead blow.”

Gwenyth watched, fascinated by Adam's prowess, for he was fearsome despite his limitations. Strong, powerful thrusts drove back his attackers. Their voices echoed off the walls. She could hear Adam urge them on, ordering them to give no quarter. Evidently he wanted them to test him with as much force as true attackers would. The men seemed reluctant, but Adam roared at them, and they attacked his left side viciously, breaking through Morogh's defense and overcoming the others as well.

Having thus foiled their laird and his defenders, the men ceased the attack, and then stood there looking as if they awaited punishment for doing so.

Adam's voice carried clearly. ”Well done, lads.”

Morogh sputtered. ”They bested us, Adam.”

”Aye, they did. They fought well and we did not. Now, what must we do differently?”

Angus and Gwenyth watched as Adam and the others devised strategies in the dirt with a stick. Morogh argued, but after throwing a heated look at Adam, he took up his position again, and the skirmish continued.

Gwenyth stretched forward, entranced by the skill and the bravado. Here was a force to be reckoned with, a man who would let nothing stand in his way once he'd determined a goal. She s.h.i.+vered, remembering his willingness to stand by the handfast vows and make the marriage real. Permanent.

She would do well to remember Adam's apparent strength, both of body and of will. For not only would he honor his promises, he would enforce his decisions.

Strain showed on Adam's face, and he grunted in pain when a particularly well-placed thrust forced his injured arm past endurance. But he did not call a halt, and she realized that if ever he clashed with Leod for possession of the clan, they would fight until the death. She trembled as a vision of Adam, lying bleeding beneath Leod's sword, reminded her that Adam's death would mean the end of her safety. She would again be a servant at Leod's mercy.

Gwenyth sent a fervent prayer for Daron to come quickly. She had no desire to witness Adam's dying or to remain anywhere near the threat of Leod Macpherson's power.

Angus touched her arm, and she jumped. ”Sorry to scare ye, la.s.sie. Ye were lost in yer thoughts. But I wanted to know, was it ye who suggested he swim to improve his strength?”

”Aye.”

”Looks as though ye were right. He's fighting well today.”

However well he'd been fighting, clearly Adam had reached his limit, for he stood aside while the others continued with their training. His breathing was labored, and sweat glistened on his bare chest.

Another warrior strode toward Adam. He soon had her full attention, for the hulking giant had flame red hair and an angry posture. Glaring at Adam, he challenged one of the others and through sheer force and little finesse, easily disarmed him, as well as a second, more skilled man.

Having dispatched them both, he faced Adam. ”Come, cousin. Show me what you're made of.”

Adam's apparent fatigue fled with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. He picked up his sword. ”Welcome home, Seamus. You seem in a fine temper this morn, and I've a mind to whittle it down to size.”

His acceptance of such a challenge surprised Gwenyth. Perhaps something in the man's aggressive stance and tone of voice offended him, or perhaps Adam was eager to prove himself. Gwenyth thought him foolish, either way.

They fought, and thankfully Adam held his own. But Seamus gave no quarter and Adam fought as if his life depended on it.

Angus stiffened.

”What is it?” She touched his forehead. ”Are you not feeling well?”

He pushed her hand away. ”I'm fine. 'Tis Seamusa”why is he challenging so fiercely?”

Adam must have reached the end of this strength for he called a halt. Seamus stopped swinging his sword as Adam bent over, hands on his thighs, taking great gulps of air.

She took the old man's arm. ”Come, Angus, we must go.”

”Not now, la.s.s. Not now.”

Seamus glared at Adam, but Adam didn't step back from the older man's intense gaze or the sword Seamus still held at chest level. Nor did Adam raise his own weapon. ”Seamus, calm yourself. Save your anger for an enemy.”

Seamus also breathed heavily from his exertion. He shook his great head as if to clear it. Between breaths, sword still at the ready, he confronted his laird. ”And just who is my enemy, Adam?”

”What do you mean?”

Gwenyth wondered what had excised the man to raise his sword to his laird. She turned to Angus, but he hushed her as Seamus continued.

”I have the information you asked for.”

Adam nodded. ”And . . .”

”I had to go to Bruce himself to confirm it. And you aren't going to like it any more than I do.”