Stealing a Kilted Heart (Temptation in Tartan #8)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T he air around Knox was filled with the sounds of steel against steel. His calloused hands gripped his sword tightly, the force of each blow reverberating up his arm and rattling his bones. His brow was coated in sweat and the day’s chill was almost pleasant on his heated skin.

Across from him in the training grounds, Magnus prepared another attack. Once again, their swords met when Knox parried it, each man taking a few steps back immediately after.

It had been a while since he had last trained with Magnus and he had missed it. Training on his own wasn’t as entertaining and training with other soldiers wasn’t usually a challenge like Magnus posed. He was one of the greatest soldiers the clan had ever seen, but it wasn’t only a matter of skill. He was one of the few who fought him with everything he had, not caring that he was the laird of the clan. Everyone else seemed too meek to Knox, too scared that they would hurt him.

But Magnus was always ferocious in a fight.

“What are ye daein’?” Magnus asked, huffing out a breath. “Ye’re distracted. If this was a real fight, I would have killed ye.”

It was true that Knox was distracted. It wasn’t simply the thought of Fia that kept his mind occupied, though that had plenty to do with the state of his concentration at that moment. What distracted him the most was, in fact, his concern over Alastair Gordon and the forces that had been spotted in their lands. Ever since that last report, they had received nothing else, neither from Callum’s group nor from the others, and Knox had started to become restless, wondering what it was that was keeping them from communicating. He had half a mind to go there himself, to see the camps with his own two eyes and maybe even stage an attack, but that was the impatience in him trying to take over. An attack on the camps would mean taking soldiers away from the castle, and he didn’t want to risk leaving it with fewer defenses and no laird when an attack was imminent.

“Again,” Magnus said, twisting the sword in his hand. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, Knox knew, and so he charged at him, their swords clanging once again in the morning air.

For a while, they traded blows, moving fluidly around each other. After years of practicing together, they could easily predict the other’s moves, each of them jumping out of the way just in time to avoid the other’s blade and trying to find new and increasingly innovative ways to attack in a quest for victory.

The more vicious Magnus became with his attacks, the more Knox managed to focus on the fight. He had no other choice; it was either that or hurtling towards defeat and no matter how distracted and preoccupied he was, he didn’t want to let Magnus win. It was an exhilarating fight. Knox’s blood thrummed in his veins and his heart beat fast, adrenaline coursing through him and filling him with excitement.

A cry tearing its way out of Knox’s throat, he attacked once more, his and Magnus’ swords meeting violently, the force of the blow pushing them far from each other. Magnus laughed, beating a hand over his chest, his cheeks flushed red with enthusiasm.

“That’s more like it!” he said, clearly pleased with Knox’s renewed efforts.

“If I didnae ken any better, I would think ye’re tryin’ tae kill each other.”

Knox glanced over his shoulder to see Bane there, standing at the very edges of the training grounds, watching, and a strange sense of duty overtook him. He didn’t want Bane to feel excluded, even if his concern was unwarranted, considering that he and Fia were the only two people in the castle who knew the truth about him. Still, an image invaded Knox’s mind—Bane, apart from everyone else, sitting all alone with no one around to turn to.

He couldn’t help but call him over.

“If we had real swords, we would have killed each other a long time ago,” Knox teased, turning his grin to Magnus. “Care tae join us, Bane?”

“Me?” Bane asked in surprise, clearly not expecting the invitation. Magnus seemed a little surprised, as well, though he said nothing on the matter. “Would that be alright?”

“O’ course,” said Knox. “Grab a sword.”

It wasn’t just the thought of Bane all alone and ostracized which had urged Knox to invite him to train. He also knew he had been unfair to him, constantly accusing him in his mind of trying to charm Fia and enter a relationship with her when he was simply looking out for her and being close to her like any brother would be. There was much for which he had to atone and the least he could offer Bane was his friendship.

After testing a few swords, Bane joined him and Magnus in the small, imaginary circle they had carved out for themselves. A few of the soldiers who were there gathered around to watch, all of them undoubtedly as curious as Knox was to see what Bane could do.

He was a peasant boy. Knox doubted he was very skilled with a sword, but with enough training, anyone could make a decent swordsman.

His assumptions were promptly proven wrong.

Bane moved like the wind, light on his feet and with a fluid quality to his movements, wasting no time before his first attack. Knox barely had the time to counter it, caught by surprise as he was by the sudden show of skill, but when he did, Bane didn’t give him the chance to counterattack or move out of range of his sword. He attacked again with deceptive strength, his sword clanging against Knox’s again and again as the two of them danced around Magnus.

It was yet another pleasant surprise. Knox would have never guessed that someone like Bane would be such a worthy opponent, and he caught himself laughing as he took a few steps back to catch his breath, Bane mercifully allowing it.

“Well… why were ye hidin’ such skill?” Knox asked, his chest heaving as he drew air into his lungs. “Are ye truly a blacksmith? Or are ye secretly a trained soldier?”

Bane laughed, shrugging a shoulder. “Trained, aye, but I’m nae soldier. I’ve never had any formal trainin’ like ye, me laird, nor have I been part o’ an army.”

“Perhaps ye should,” Magnus said, raising a curious eyebrow. “Ye have talent.”

“Would ye consider it?” Knox asked. “Joinin’ me army?”

Bane shook his head. “Nay. Forgive me, but me family is a family o’ blacksmiths. That willnae change with me.”

Knox raised his hands up in surrender, but the thought didn’t entirely leave his head. He understood Bane’s reluctance to leave the trade that his family had specialized in for years, but at the same time, he would be a fool to entirely neglect such a talented fighter. There were plenty of good soldiers in his ranks, men who were well-versed in the art of sword-fighting, but there was always room for one more.

For a while, the three of them continued to train, with Bane showing more and more of his skill as they fought. What he lacked in proper technique, he made up for in speed and strength, matching that of Knox and Magnus. In the end, though, Knox managed to disarm him, sending his sword flying in an arc in the air before it landed a few steps away from him.

“I yield,” Bane said good-naturedly, just as the dull tip of Knox’s sword grazed his neck, and then, perhaps from a deep-rooted reflex to protect himself, stumbled back upon feeling the steel on his skin and promptly fell over.

The first thing he did was erupt in laughter, along with everyone around him. Knox offered him his hand, pulling him back up to his feet, and thought that perhaps, even if his secret became known, he wouldn’t have any troubles in the castle.

While he was lost in his thoughts, Bane and Magnus struck up a conversation, but Knox could hardly hear what they were saying. So focused was he on his quest to make Bane feel as comfortable as he could that everything the man said flew right past him, never to be absorbed by his mind.

As he watched him, he noticed that he was staring at another soldier who was just stepping into the training grounds, removing his shirt in the process. It was Arran, a young man with dark hair and eyes, his corded muscles on full display now and his grin as cocky as it was playful when he faced his opponent.

Knox narrowed his eyes. He supposed he could see it. Objectively, Arran was an attractive man.

“Bane,” Knox called, beckoning him closer. Bane glanced at him over his shoulder and gave a nod to Magnus before approaching Knox, a smile on his face. “Dae ye like… that?”

Subtly, he nodded his head towards Arran, trying not to give anything away, but the enthusiasm with which Bane replied surprised him.

“Och aye!” he said. “Lovely, truly lovely.”

A hum escaped Knox before he could stop himself, as surprised as it was curious. Fia had asked him to say nothing on the matter, but Bane seemed perfectly at ease with it, neither embarrassed nor fearful of what others would say. If anything, he seemed rather excited to have someone to whom he could talk about this.

Daes Fia nae talk with him about lads? Or is it because she’s a lass herself?

If there was one thing Knox knew for certain, it was that it was much easier to talk to another man about women, so perhaps it was the same for Bane. Maybe he was more comfortable discussing such matters with other men than he was discussing them with women, especially when it came to the woman who was practically his sister.

Knox didn’t know if he was the right person for this. He was hardly an authority on what was lovely , as Bane had put it, on a man and he wouldn’t even know where to begin if Bane came to him for advice. But if nothing else, he could listen; he could be there for him if he needed someone to talk.

“Bonnie built,” Bane continued, and Knox found himself making a rather undignified, high-pitched noise of shock, one that he barely managed to suppress, but which Bane didn’t even seem to notice as he gazed longingly at Arran. There was no other way to describe that look he was giving him. Knox could even call it loving. “But it’s quite large, is it nae?”

It was Knox’s turn to choke on thin air. It seemed that with every interaction they had, one of them ended up shocked and blushing, and it was now he who felt the heat creep up his face and all the way down to his chest, rendering him speechless for what seemed like eons.

Bane glanced at him with a small, confused frown. “Well… perhaps he’s used tae it.”

“Perhaps,” was all Knox managed to say. On that chilly day, it suddenly felt as though he had been dropped into the flames of a volcano. Everything felt stifling hot and he had begun to perspire, sweat dripping down his temple as he tried his best to push the images Bane conjured out of his mind.

“Are ye alright, me laird?” Bane asked in concern, a hand reaching out to grab his shoulder.

Knox nodded firmly, gritting his teeth to stop himself from making another such undignified sound. “I just didnae ken ye would be so… open about this. Fia made it sound like ye never wished anyone tae find out.”

Bane’s frown only deepened at that, his confusion evident. “Find out what?”

Knox couldn’t say it. He couldn’t utter the words.

Please dinnae make me say it.

But the more Bane stared at him, the more Knox realized there was no end to his torment other than coming clean. He only hoped it wouldn’t embarrass either of them more than it already had.

“That ye… that ye…”

“Aye?”

Knox leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “That ye like… ye ken,” his voice was mere whisper, “… lads.”

Bane’s head snapped to the side to stare at Knox, their faces suddenly so close that their noses brushed against each other. They seemed to realize it at the same time. Snatching his hand away as if he had been burned, Bane took several steps back and so did Knox, until they were suddenly too far from each other to even have a conversation.

I’m bein’ ridiculous! He’ll think I’m odd now!

“Listen—” said Knox.

“This isnae—” said Bane at the same time.

“It’s quite alright!” Knox assured him, hands waving wildly in front of him. “It was a surprise, but it’s… truly alright.”

“I was…” Bane said, his voice dropping low until Knox had to strain to hear it, “talkin’ about the sword.”

Knox dragged his gaze over to Arran and then to the sword in his hand. It was one of his own, an old sword with which he couldn’t bear to part and had dulled the blade so he could use it in practice—a beautiful blade indeed, well-balanced and once wickedly sharp, the craftsmanship of which a blacksmith could surely appreciate.

He was talkin’ about the sword!

Of course, he was talking about the sword! Even if he was attracted to Arran, he wouldn’t be so obvious about it! There could be consequences.

Knox cursed under his breath. He had surely made this awkward for Bane and he couldn’t blame him if he never even wished to speak to him again, but he desperately wanted to fix it. Taking a few steps forward, he opened his lips to apologize, but he didn’t even know how to start.

Now he had done it. The look on Bane’s face was one of equal measures of confusion and betrayal, his emotions laid bare for Knox and the whole world to see. Guilt coiled deep in his stomach at the thought that not only had he betrayed Fia’s trust by revealing to Bane that he knew the truth, but he had also chipped away some of the trust Bane had for Fia. Surely, Bane didn’t trust him either now, not anymore, not when he had spoken about something like this in front of everyone—even if he had made sure no one would hear him.

There were people in the clan who, had they heard this conversation, would have done their best to throw Bane in the street.

“Excuse me,” said Bane, already backtracking, walking backwards away from Knox and the training grounds. “There is… somethin’ I must dae.”

Before Knox could say another word, Bane fled, handing his sword to one of the soldiers standing by. It was then that Magnus saw Knox, standing there, dejected and embarrassed beyond any measure, and paused his practice to walk over to him.

“What just happened?” he asked, glancing between Knox and Bane’s retreating back.

Knox sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “When God was blessin’ the world with sense,” he said, “I was standin’ under an awnin’.”

“By God’s bones, why did Laird Stuart think I feel attracted tae… nae lassies?”

Och nay… how did he find out?

Fia froze where she was bent over the workbench, arranging some tools. The healer’s cottage was blessedly empty save for her and Bane, but then again, had there been others there, then Bane wouldn’t have started this conversation and Fia would have been all the happier for it. She turned around slowly, swallowing in a dry throat, only to flinch when she saw the rage in Bane’s eyes.

She had seen that look once before, when she had strayed too far from home one day and he and Tav couldn’t find her. His concern for her, though, had tempered his rage that day. Now, there was nothing to offset it and Fia was about to receive the full extent of his ire.

“Bane—”

“Nay,” said Bane sharply and immediately, Fia’s mouth snapped shut. She gulped audibly; her gaze lowered to the floor. “Nae excuses. Just tell me the truth.”

Fia took in a deep, steadying breath. She didn’t even know where to start with this, since she hadn’t even planned to tell Laird Stuart this lie. It had just been the first thing to pop to her mind so that she could reassure him there was nothing between her and Bane, and it had simply snowballed from there.

“Laird Stuart was very curious about us,” she said carefully, picking each word with intent. “Naye matter what I told him, he didnae believe that we dinnae see each other romantically at all. Ye’ve seen how he is. If I wanted me plan tae succeed, I had tae tell him somethin’.”

“An’ so ye decided tae tell him I like… ye ken!” Bane couldn’t even finish the sentence, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. It was a familiar sight for Fia. It seemed to her as though she brought him to this state often. “Was that the only solution ye could think of?”

“I didnae mean tae!” Fia protested, but even that was weak. She truly had no good excuse; all of this had come to be because she was too scared to let Knox know the truth but also too scared to do anything that would jeopardize their relationship. Now, she had nestled each lie within another lie, until everything had become so convoluted that there was no way out of it. She had dug herself into a hole, but the worst part was that she wasn’t in there alone. She had dragged Bane with her, and the guilt gnawed at her insides, bringing forth a wave of nausea. “Forgive me, Bane, but it was simply the first thing tae come tae mind. I didnae mean tae say it, but then it was suddenly too late.”

Bane sighed, shaking his head as he began to pace back and forth in front of the cottage door. He started to speak, then stopped, then started once again, but no sounds came past his lips other than a frustrated groan.

“Ye’ve made such a mess o’ things,” he said. “Just as I kent ye would. What if he was deeply religious, felt offended and threw me out of the castle fer bein’ a sinner? Or worse, if the laird had thrown me in the dungeons fer sodomy?! I told ye this was a terrible plan.”

It was true, Fia thought. In her attempts to charm the laird, she may have succeeded, but she had also fallen into her own trap. She, too, had been charmed by him. She had fallen for him and his gentle manner, his handsome appearance, his kindness and generosity. Before arriving at the castle, she had thought it would be easy to make him fall for her while remaining in control, impassive, unaffected by his emotions for her, but in the end, she had been nothing but a fool.

Being favored by such a man was flattering to say the least. Fia had been foolish to think she could have tricked him without tricking herself.

It was also true that she had placed Bane in great danger, without even thinking anything of it. She had never once stopped to think what would happen to Bane if Laird Stuart couldn’t stomach the thought of a sodomite in his castle. She had never thought that, devout as he was, he could hate Bane for it, throw him out in the streets, or even have him hanged.

How could I nae think about Bane’s safety at all? How could I put him in such danger without a second thought?

Fia truly didn’t know what had possessed her, but the guilt she felt now was almost enough for her to drown in it. Tears welled up in her eyes, the thought that she had not only risked Bane’s life but that she had also disappointed him weighing heavy in her conscience.

“I ken that,” she said as she threw herself in the nearest chair, and she must have looked so pitiful for Bane to let go of some of his anger and approach her, crouching down before her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “I dae now. An’ I… I dinnae ken how tae fix it, Bane. I… I think I’m fallin’ fer him, me plan be damned. I couldnae care less fer me plan! I never thought I would be but… ach! I’m such a fool!”

“Ye’re nae a fool,” Bane said gently, though he didn’t sound entirely convincing to Fia. “Ye dae foolish things sometimes, but ye’re nae a fool. Perhaps it’s time tae tell him the truth. Tell him about yer plan an’ how ye feel an’ be done with it all.”

Fia shook her head, terrified and wide-eyed. “Nay,” she said. She couldn’t get the image of Callum out of her head, laughing at her as though the year they had spent together had been nothing but a drawn-out, elaborate lie. She couldn’t forget the humiliation, the despair that came with it.

She couldn’t allow herself any more of that humiliation.

“Please… please, can ye simply… just dinnae dae anythin’, ok?” Fia asked. “An’ I’ll dae me best tae stay away from the laird. I cannae tell him the truth, Bane. I cannae. He will hate me.”

She couldn’t tell him the truth, but she also couldn’t keep doing what she had been doing this whole time. Laird Stuart was a good man; he didn’t deserve to be deceived like this. As much as it pained Fia, she knew the only way forward was to forget her plan entirely and pretend none of this had ever happened. With time, the pain of losing him would surely fade, like all things did.

Until then, she would have to avoid him as much as she could, which shouldn’t be a difficult task. She was only a healer and he was the laird. Their paths never needed to cross again.