Amanda Scott (29 page)

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.”