Touch of a Highlander (A Highlander Time Travel Romance) (Arch Through Time Book 2) by Baker Katy

Author:Baker, Katy [Baker, Katy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Katy Baker
Published: 2017-01-03T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“Move yer feet!” Ewan bellowed at the man he was fighting.

Stephen, the man in question, grunted and jabbed his practise blade towards Ewan’s face. Ewan deftly stepped out of the way and spun around, whacking Stephen across the shoulders.

“If this was a real fight ye’d be dead by now,” Ewan growled. “Never let yerself get off balance like that.”

Stephen leaned over, resting his hands on his knees and sucking great breaths through his nose. Ewan knew he was pushing the men hard but what choice did he have? They’d be riding to war on the morrow where the quickness of someone’s feet might mean the difference between living and dying.

“Aye,” Stephen panted. “Just give me a minute will ye?”

Ewan had ordered the clan warriors to gather at first light and they’d been training all morning. In one part of the field his warriors were practicing mounted charges, in another, close quarter combat.

Over by the gate a group of Richard de Clare’s men were leaning against the fence, watching proceedings. Ewan scowled. They should be training, not lounging around. Didn’t they realize they’d soon be fighting for their clan? But it wasn’t their clan, Ewan reminded himself. And nor were they under clan command. They were loyal to Richard de Clare, not to Merith as laird or himself as captain.

He’d never been comfortable with that. It was one of the many things he’d argued with his uncle about. How could you rely on a man’s loyalty if he had no ties to you? If the only reason he was here was because of the money he was paid?

“Take guard!” he barked at Stephen. “And this time, try to move like yer not swimming in treacle.”

With a groan Stephen lifted his practise sword and they set to it once more. Ewan swung and jabbed, calling out instructions, offering praise where warranted, until they were both sweaty and panting. When he was satisfied Stephen had mastered the moves, he called a halt and sent him off to find a drink of water and something to eat.

Ewan surveyed the practise field. He was wound up as tight as a bow string. Since he’d woken this morning he’d felt a simmering rage bubbling in his stomach. Rage at the MacFarlanes for forcing them into war and taking him away from Gretchen.

Rage at himself for so desperately wanting to avoid it.

Does that make me a coward? he wondered. Should I not be aching for battle? Longing to face my enemies?

That’s what his uncle would have said. For Malcolm Murray a man’s worth had been in his ability to fight, to protect his family. But Ewan’s father, Aiden Murray, had taught his son differently. He had been a strong man, a gentle man, and he’d taught Ewan that violence was only ever a last resort.

So yes, he’d fight on the morrow. He’d fight with all his strength for his clan, his family. For Gretchen.

Ah, Gretchen.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her image seemed to fill his every waking moment, making it difficult to think about anything else.

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