Chapter 17
17
Ian tugged his tunic off as he approached the sparring ring, the cold air causing his skin to pucker and seek the warmth he had just had. After a restless night and no word from the laird, he was irritable, wanting a means to escape from the pent-up energy and rage that was inside him.
Since he couldn’t release it any other way, sparring was going to be the best thought for him.
Stephan and Remy stood at the wooden fence as Ian approached, his arms crossed over his chest. Inside the ring was Dalziel, who was palming his sword as he faced his opponent, a grin on his face. “He’s playing with him again,” Remy muttered, shaking his head. “I donna understand why he just doesna get on with it.”
Ian placed his hands on his hips, surveying his captain as he dodged the sword strike, laughing as he did so. “He’s far too cocky.”
“Aye,” Remy answered. “But then again, he always has been.”
Stephan pushed away from the fence. “Reminds mah of another Scot before he decided tae put down his sword.”
Ian shot his brother a look, though deep down he knew that Stephan was right. Ian had been somewhat cocky on the battlefield, wielding his sword like a battering ram. It was how they had been trained, to not allow their opponents to find their weakness and to strike first. “Better that than the one who played with his enemies.”
Stephan chuckled, arching a brow. “I donna think that mah enemy would consider it play given they had no blood left in their body once I was done.” Stephan had been a master at short knives and daggers, making precise cuts on his opponent until they would grow weak from blood loss.
“It made a bloody mess, that was wot ye did,” Remy replied with a shake of his head. “Ye should do the same tae that arse in the ring.”
Stephan laughed and Ian frowned at Remy’s suggestion, knowing that he wasn’t jesting. Dalziel had not been Ian’s choice for captain. His da had given Dalziel the position before he passed on and stuck in his grief, Ian hadn’t made any decisions regarding his own guard, content to allow Dalziel handle it all.
That was before Ian had decided to call for peace.
“How did the proposal go?” Remy asked a moment later, turning on Ian. “Did ye secure wot ye needed?”
Ian clenched his jaw, his eyes glittering. He didn’t want to tell his closest friend that he had failed yet again. Ian felt like he had failed, but given the way that Ida had looked at him the day prior, when they had run into each other in the keep, he wanted to believe that she cared for him.
Did it matter? No, not if she wasn’t willing to leave that bastard of an uncle she was saddled with. “I’m still working on it.”
Remy arched a brow but didn’t respond, clearly seeing the anger on Ian’s face. “Well, then I guess ye have time considering the laird is holding back once more.”
Ian nodded. He wasn’t leaving until he had spoken with the laird.
“Or are ye wasting yer time?” Stephan asked. “Does she even like ye?”
Ian wasn’t certain if Ida liked him or not. She kissed him as if she liked him, but rejected him just a moment later, making him more confused than ever.
“Laird!”
Both men turned to find Dalziel wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and his opponent writhing in the dirt. “Dalziel,” Ian acknowledged him. “Seems ye need a good opponent.”
The captain grinned, blood shining on his teeth. “Aye, mah laird. Ye will be a worthy opponent that is if ye would like tae still wield a sword.”
Remy started toward the captain, but Ian placed his hand on his friend’s chest. “Yer sword, Remy.”
“Ye should gut him,” Remy muttered as he handed over his sword to Ian. “Put us out of our misery from his mouth.”
Ian grinned as he tested the weight of the sword in his hand. “Careful now Remy. Yer taste for blood is coming out.”
“I agree with Remy,” Stephan grumbled, his narrowed gaze on the ring. “Ye should gut him and be done with it. He’s naught but a nuisance and is going tae ruin this thing for good for ye Ian. I donna know why he’s still allowed tae breathe the same air as ye right now.”
Ian heard the anger in Stephan’s voice, knowing that all he had to do was send his brother in there to take care of his business. Stephan cared not about his actions. “I will take care of this,” Ian finally said, giving his brother a wink and a nod. “With Remy’s sword.”
Remy remained silent as Ian climbed over the fence and made his way to the middle of the ring where Dalziel waited. “I hope that ye are teaching them tae learn their opponent before they strike.”
His captain grinned, shifting his sword from one hand to the other. “Aye mah laird, just as ye are with the wench that ye are enamored with. Tell mah. How did yer proposal work out? I hear she turned ye down flat.”
His words were low enough that the others couldn’t hear but their meaning had no difference regardless. Dalziel was baiting Ian, wanting him to strike first. What his captain didn’t know was that Ian wouldn’t think twice about running his sword through him before he could even realize what was happening. Like his da before him, Ian had been holding back whenever he sparred with anyone other than his brother. Dalziel had no idea what Ian could do with a sword. “Come on then,” Ian beckoned with his free hand. “Show mah wot ye can do.”
They circled each other, each looking for a sign of weakness until Dalziel got antsy and charged with his sword, aiming for Ian’s side. Ian sidestepped him easily, turning to see the captain stumble on his feet and do the same. “Tis the best ye have?” Ian taunted him, his hand tightening around the sword. “Perhaps I should replace ye!”
Those words he wasn’t quiet about, watching as Dalziel’s face mottled with anger. He needed to put the captain in his place, to show him who truly was in charge. He growled and charged, but Ian was ready for him, their steel clanging together as he took the brunt of Dalziel’s killing blow, sliding Remy’s sword down the length of the other to knock it aside.
Dalziel grinned wildly and took another swing, that one meant for Ian’s head. Ian was ready for that strike as well, easily knocking the sword aside before Dalziel came at him with a flurry of swings. Ian met the captain swing for swing, the vibration of the swords sliding down his arms. It had been some time since he had fought like this, but Ian could do it with his eyes closed.
His da had made certain of it.
That, and he knew that the captain wouldn’t attempt to kill him with his men watching. They were on enemy land and if he spilled blood, the laird’s blood at that, Dalziel would be dead a scant second later. He couldn’t take on both Remy and Stephan, no matter how cocky he was.
So they sparred on, Ian nicking Dalziel’s shoulder with Remy’s sword on one particular swipe. “Och,” Dalziel replied, moving back a few feet to cup the area. His hand came back bloodied and he grinned. “Look at ye mah laird. Do ye wish tae gut mah?”
“Of course not,” Ian seethed, an evil glint in his eye now. “I only wish tae teach ye a lesson.”
“Oh?” Dalziel asked, his eyes lighting up. “Wot lesson would that be?”
Ian stalked closer, forcing the captain to retreat. “That if ye ruin this for mah, ye will have more tae worry aboot than mah gutting ye.”
Dalziel’s eyes narrowed and he charged Ian one last time, Ian catching the edge of the blade on his forearm, the steel slicing through his skin before he pushed the captain aside, causing the Scot to lose his balance and fall into the dirt. The men around them laughed, but inside the ring, there was nothing to laugh at.
Ian had likely made an enemy of his own captain, but he moved to the fence where those that were loyal to him regardless stood, handing over Remy’s sword to the rightful owner. “Ye should get that looked at,” Stephan grimaced, nodding to the dripping cut on Ian’s forearm.
“He was going for yer head,” Remy supplied as Ian clamped his hand over the wound, hissing as his sweaty skin came in contact with the open wound.
“Aye, I know,” Ian muttered, welcoming the pain he felt. “Tis nothing I can do tae appease him now.”
“Then we will watch yer back,” Stephan stated, clapping his brother on his shoulder and squeezing. “And deal with him when we go back home.”
Ian nodded, knowing that he couldn’t have someone in his ranks whom he couldn’t trust. As they headed toward the keep, he caught sight of Ida walking away from them quickly. What had she seen? Had she seen him fight?
Was she frightened of him now?