"braw lad." For a man who lifted a two-handed sword with deadly force, he was extremely gentle. Looking at his face, she could see that he didn't understand her reaction. Of course not; he didn't know the miracle that was modern medicine. She was horrified when she thought of how they had cauterized the wound. But she was more worried about infection; didn't most people who survived arrow wounds die from blood loss or infection? Great. Was it too much to think they'd invented penicillin yet? It had been discovered by a Scotsman, after all.
"Will I survive?" She'd asked it lightly, trying to make him feel better, but she was intensely curious.
"You tell me." His tone was even, but his eyes were tight.
"I feel okay."
Other than the burning fire in my shoulder
.
"Did I lose much blood?"
"Nay, the arrow held most of it in."
"Oh. And what are the chances of infection?"
"You doona have a fever, so I am hoping that there won't be any complications with your recovery."
"Oh," she said again. "Wow, I really got shot with an arrow?" She shook her head; this was really weird.
"Aye, and ye gave me the fright of my life." Connor sounded angry; his voice had changed. It was deeper, harder.
Mackenzie realized that this was hard for him to admit. He'd said he loved her before they were attacked, and now she was beginning to believe it.
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"I'm sorry," she said automatically, but Connor looked annoyed at her apology.
"It's not your fault, Mackenzie. 'Tis I who should apologize to you. I canna believe I exposed you like that. I dinna even bring my sword." He sounded disgusted with himself. "When I saw you slide from the saddle," he covered his eyes with his hand, and spoke in a whisper, "I saw the arrow sticking out from your limp body..." Connor trailed off and removed his hand, his eyes burning into hers. "I thought ye were dead."
His voice grew stronger, his brogue thicker, "Why did ye no'
scream? Damn it, woman, I had no idea ye'd even been hit!"
"I'm...sorry?" she hadn't known what else to say, her eyebrows knit over her nose. Why was he so mad at her?
He sighed, "For what?"
"I don't know, for whatever made you so mad."
Connor chuckled at her logic, or lack thereof. "Mackenzie, I'm not mad at
you.
"
"Then what are you mad about?" She was burning with curiosity.
"Myself. I am furious with myself. I ken what the Campbell is capable of, and I didn't take any precautions. I didn't think at all. Instead, I took you riding, alone, without any weapons or guards. If he had stolen ye back, I'm not sure I could hold a level head. I would have chased after ye and probably gotten both of us killed in the process."
Mackenzie was surprised. He'd always seemed so calm and collected to her. His self-control never lapsed. Except in the bedroom. She smiled at the remembrance of Connor in bed.
"Why are you smiling? This isn't funny."
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She blushed and looked away. "No, of course not."
The blush didn't escape Connor's attention. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing."
"Tell me," he demanded.
"It's not important." She blushed harder and changed the topic. "And don't feel bad, see I'm fine." Mackenzie tried to rotate her shoulder and it burned like crazy, but she did it.
"Stop, you'll hurt yourself."
"I'm good. See?" She tried to lift her arm above her head.
"Your lips are white."
"Okay," Mackenzie expelled a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Wow, that hurt.'
"That's what I thought." Connor sounded a little superior.
"Alright Mr. I-told-you-so," Mackenzie said a little tartly, "I admit it hurts. Happy now?"
"Why would I be happy that you are injured?" He looked confused and annoyed.
She rolled her eyes, "It's called sarcasm, Connor. Ugh. I suppose that this will scar pretty badly?" She grimaced, indicating her shoulder.
Connor pulled his shirt free of his plaid, lifted it, and showed her a small puckered scar. "Like so."
"You've been shot before?!" She was appalled.
He seemed amused. "Of course."
Mackenzie's fingers traced the scar on his stomach. She thrilled when his muscles tightened in response to her touch.
Truthfully, she was not immune either, with the familiar heavy sensation spreading to her limbs as she ran her fingers 304
"And this one?" she asked tapping it lightly with her index finger.
"A sword." He seemed to like this game. His eyes were watching her face as she trailed her fingers along his skin.
She looked at him aghast. "You've been struck by a sword?"
"Many times." Was he
proud
of that fact? Typical man; proud of his battle wounds.
"Where else?" Mackenzie thought back to the first time she'd seen him training in the yard without his shirt on. She'd thought him beautiful, and thought that the scars proved him a real warrior, not some prissy lord who ordered his men about. He fought side-by-side with his men. She'd been intrigued, and now she wanted to know how he got all of the scars that freckled his body.
Connor pulled his shirt over his head, and his warm hand enveloped hers, brushing her fingers across his chest to his arm, "Here." He continued up his arm and over his shoulder to place her fingers on his back. "Here." He turned around slightly, so she could see where he led her fingers this time.
"Here." He'd run her fingers across a long, white line that looked as if someone had tried to slice him in two from shoulder blade to waist. Mackenzie gasped. He turned to face her, and with her hand still firmly encased in his, he trailed her fingers down his arm and traced them along a pink line on his right forearm. "And here." His eyes held hers.
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"I'm so sorry, Connor. I never should have stabbed you. I feel just awful about that."
"It's alright, love, see?"
"Yeah, but I
stabbed
you!" She sounded horrified. "I was just so scared and my mind was still reeling from the whole time travel thing, and I am sorry."
"Mackenzie, stop." Connor placed a finger against her lips and said, "I abducted you, if you recall."
"Yes, but..." she tried to say against his finger, but Connor pressed his lips to hers to silence her. When he pulled back, Mackenzie resumed her apology. "I'm so sorry, Connor. If I'd had any idea what meeting you would have led to, I'd have come along willingly."
"I doubt that." He raised his eyebrows at her.
She smiled. "Are you insinuating that I'm difficult?"
He smiled back. "Aye lass, stubborn to the end." His answering smile was brief, though, and his expression changed until he looked as though he was in pain.
"What? What is it?" Mackenzie rested her hand on his cheek, feeling his dark stubble graze her palm.
He placed his hand on her stomach, not meeting her eyes.
"How long before you know whether you are with child?"
"Oh." She hadn't expected that. "Umm..." Mackenzie mentally counted her cycle. "About a week, maybe a little less, but it's unnecessary. I am certain that I'm pregnant."
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An idea started to form...
"Connor, I want to ask a favor of you."
He lifted his head and looked up at her, "Anything," he vowed. His sapphire eyes were still full of wonder from her announcement.
"I'd like you to teach me to use a sword."
His whole body tensed, and his eyes darkened so much that in the dim light from the fire, they looked black. God help her if he discovered her plan. He'd said earlier that he wouldn't be able to think straight had she been taken, and she believed him. Well, she'd leave him a note telling him of her plans, so he could think rationally. She hoped she could make it to the Campbell's lands before he could stop her, because there was no doubt in her mind that he would stop her.
"Why would you need to use a sword?"
"So if something happens, I can defend myself," she didn't want to say it, but she forced the words out, "and the baby."
His face took on a strained look, "Do ye not think I can protect ye?"
"It's not like that, Connor." She was saying this all wrong.
"Then how is it?" he demanded.
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"I just would feel better if I knew enough to defend myself.
I don't like feeling helpless. And I don't like feeling like a target, either. I need to know how to defend myself, and our baby."
"That is precisely why you shouldn't learn. What if something happened to the baby?"
"Connor, learning how to use a sword isn't going to hurt the baby."
"How do you know?"
"It doesn't work that way. Maybe if I took a blow to the gut, I could lose the baby, but just working with a sword, I should be fine. Besides, I'm not really even pregnant, not yet anyways. I'm like a week pregnant. My period isn't even late yet. Please? Teach me how to use a sword? Just the basics?"
He was silent, and still angry, but she persisted. "Please?"
After a long pause, he said, "Alright, Mackenzie."
He'd caved
"Stand up."
"Now?" Oh, she got it. He hadn't caved, not really, he was going to make this difficult.
"Aye, you want to learn, so stand up."
Mackenzie stood up and it hurt like hell. Of course Connor knew that. Connor strode to the trunk at the foot of his bed, and pulled out two very large swords. Flipping one over, he held the blade and handed Mackenzie the hilt. She was grateful that it had been her left shoulder that was injured, but it was still awkward for her to hold the heavy sword with only one hand. Holding the sword like she'd seen in movies was apparently the wrong way, because Connor immediately 308
flicked his sword at hers and sent in clattering across the floor.
"Go get it," Connor ordered.
Mackenzie was in her shift, one sleeve, slipping down from where she assumed that Connor had cut it off to patch her up. She was favoring her left arm, clutching it to her chest, as she picked up the heavy sword. She turned around to Connor and he was ready for her. He knocked it out of her hand again.
"How am I supposed to learn if you keep knocking it out of my hand?" she was annoyed and didn't bother to hide it.
"You should learn to keep a tighter grip on your weapon.
Again."
She sighed and picked it up. This time when she turned, she was prepared. When Connor attacked her, she kept hold of her sword. Her arm radiated the shock from his blow, though she kept quiet, he must have seen it in her eyes. He came at her again, and she raised her sword to block his blow, but he surprised her by pressing the tip of the sword to her chest. She glared at him.
"I am not trying to attack your sword, Mackenzie. I am attacking you. The sword is merely a tool. You should always place it where you expect me to strike. Anticipate."
He pulled back, and said, "Again."
Connor swung his sword at her midsection, and when she blocked the shot, the pain from his force all landed in her wrist. She grimaced, but this time it was she who said,
"Again. Do it again." After a grand total of fifteen minutes, 309
Connor softened. He didn't like to see her in pain.
"Mackenzie, love, it's alright to stop. You've nothing to prove."
"Again," she said between her teeth.
"Nay. You're spent."
"Again!" she commanded.
Connor effortlessly swung his sword at Mackenzie, sending hers skittering across the floor, and he pressed his sword into her neck, softly saying, "You're done."
Her eyes narrowed. "You've been holding back!" she accused.
"Of course." He sounded so arrogant and high-handed.
"Why?" Mackenzie demanded.
"You can hardly stand and ye want me to treat ye as I would one of my men? You should lie down."
Mackenzie was angry; she didn't like being seen as weak.
"Don't tell me what to do," she fumed.
"Stop being so stubborn, woman, and lie down," Connor ordered.
"Make me," she taunted.
Connor raised his eyebrows to the sky and he just stared at her, incredulously. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me."
Connor was staring at her as if she were daft. Mackenzie picked up her sword and this time she lunged at him. She caught him by surprise, but he still managed to knock her sword from her hand, and instead of taunting her with his 310
sword, he instead picked her up and dropped her onto the bed.
"You are not strong enough to practice yet. Wait at least until ye are recovered from your wound."
Truthfully she was exhausted and could use a couple Tylenols, but she couldn't give in gracefully. "Fine," she snapped. "But I'm serious, Connor, I want to learn." At his amused look, probably thinking that it was funny the little woman wanted to play with the menfolk, she ground her teeth in frustration. It irritated her, but she changed her tone.
"Look, I don't expect to be able to take you or anything, but I want a fighting chance."
"Take me where?"
"It means to beat you. I don't expect to be able to beat you, but again, I'd like to not be a sitting duck. Please, Connor."
Connor sighed and sat down next to her on the bed. She was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. He pulled her left hand from her knees and gently extended it until she flinched.
"You are injured, and there is no shame in waiting until you are recovered." He released the tension he had put on her arm. "I'm not saying that I won't teach you, but I won't hurt you anymore, and not tonight."
Connor kept hold on her left hand, but softly placed it back on her knee. Mackenzie sighed, a short frustrated sound, and grumbled, "This sucks."
Connor looked at her with a slight smile and said, "You speak so strangely."
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