Chapter Sixteen
As promised, Veronica began teaching
age-appropriate Kalari techniques to Moira and Catriona the very
next morning. Lachlan was out training his men; she was inside
their bedroom teaching her female students. She had given orders
that nobody was to enter the chamber. The soldier posted outside
didn’t know it was because all their bliauts had been removed and
they were wearing nothing but chemises to make it easier to move
about; he just knew to let no one enter.
She started the lesson off by giving the
wide-eyed women a small show of what they could accomplish if they
knew Kalari. Veronica performed a small routine of sorts, punching,
kicking, and leaping through the air. She rolled into a somersault
before jumping to her feet, weapons in hand. Her students gasped,
amazed.
“’Tis fatal mayhap, yet beautiful too,”
Catriona breathed out.
“Aye,” Moira seconded. “I’m in agreement
with my daughter.”
Veronica modestly smiled at her eager
apprentices. She spent the next forty-five minutes or so teaching
them basic techniques. “The next thing I want to show you is how to
use your eating daggers as weapons,” Veronica told Moira and
Catriona. “A dagger is quite an effective way to take down an
assailant.”
“Oh my.” Moira looked both intrigued and
scandalized. She patted her perfectly coifed hair. “’Tis unseemly,
but do teach us.”
Veronica demonstrated how to wield the
dagger and helped the other women hold theirs in the proper
fashion. “Remember the warrior pose? Now we just put the two
together—careful how you hold the dagger, Catriona—and strike.”
The threesome practiced the moves again and
again. Hold, pose, and strike. Hold, pose, and strike.
“Go for their eyes or penises,” Veronica
instructed, “depending upon which part is closest to you.”
Catriona gasped then giggled. Moira blushed
from head to toe. Both women kept practicing.
“It helps,” Veronica continued, “if you
throw out a warrior’s cry when striking. Yaaaahh!” she exploded on
her next strike. And, “Yaaaahh!” again on the next. “Something
about a warrior’s cry gives you more energy to take down your
opponent. It makes you feel stronger and deadlier.”
Before she knew what was what, Moira and
Catriona piped in. Hold, pose, and strike on “Yaaaahh!” The
threesome kept practicing, making it impossible for them to hear
when the bedroom doors were opened.
“Yaaaahh!”
“Yaaaahh!”
“Yaaaahh!”
“What’s this aboot me not being permitted
within my own bedchamber?” Lachlan’s surly voice boomed at the same
time the doors crashed shut behind him. “I—"
“Yaaaahh!” Veronica stopped after her final
battle cry and, breathing heavily, turned to face Lachlan. His
face, she noted with much amusement, was as red as a beet.
“I—uh—excuse me,” Lachlan muttered, turning
back to the doors. His discomfort was palpable. “I’ll take my
leave, but I’ll be back in fifteen minutes time. Be dressed!” he
growled over his shoulder. “I wish to eat!”
After he left, Veronica couldn’t help
herself. She burst into laughter. Moira and Catriona followed
suit.
“Oh dear,” Moira chuckled. “I do believe
‘twas more than my son could bear, seeing his mother in her chemise
as it were.”
“Whilst screaming ‘Yaaaahh!’ Catriona
giggled. “And striking with our eating daggers!”
Veronica couldn’t stop laughing like a
loon—a welcomed occurrence that hadn’t happened at all since the
outbreak of DR-71. She had chuckled a time or two now and again,
but not a strong, hearty belly laugh. It felt good. If she wasn’t
careful, she might just get used to it.
Then again, would allowing herself to
experience happiness be such a bad thing? She knew it wouldn’t; she
also knew it was going to take her mental walls a while to come
down though. She had been through a lot and seen more death than
any person should ever have to face. Veronica had been jaded before
the plague broke out, but after everything she’d been through since
that fateful event? She inwardly sighed, hoping she could just let
it all go. The sooner the better.
The next morning when the trio of women
practiced Kalari, Veronica was amazed at how well they performed.
If she didn’t know any better—and in actuality she didn’t—she would
have thought her mother-in-law and sister-in-law had continued
practicing the techniques she’d shown them yesterday even after
their session had ended. Maybe they had.
For his part, Lachlan did not enter the
bedroom during their second lesson. Having learned the hard way, he
settled on waiting to see the threesome until they emerged from the
bedroom to partake of lunch. His eyebrows rose upon seeing them,
but he didn’t inquire about their lesson. Perhaps because Finn and
Ramsay were with him. Or maybe, Veronica thought on a stifled grin,
he simply didn’t want to talk about anything that would remind him
of his chemise-clad mother.
The men rose as the women entered. “Good
day, miladies,” Finn and Ramsay offered.
“Wife,” Lachlan nodded. “Catriona. Mum.” He
nodded again. “Do join us.”
Victor was the last to arrive. Everyone took
their usual seats at the head table. The food and mead were
served.
“How was your morn, ladies?” Finn asked.
“Excellent!” This from Moira. “My
daughter-within-the-law has been tutoring Catriona and I in the
warring arts.”
Finn and Ramsay practically choked on their
drinks. Veronica grinned.
“Come again?” Ramsay asked once
recovered.
“Aye,” Moira stated. “Catriona and I have
become ever the proficient students. I daresay we shall be leaping
through the air with weapons in hand the soonest.”
Lachlan frowned. “Just be certain to use
your weapons on the enemy and not on one of us!”
“Then behave yourself,” Moira harrumphed,
patting her hair into place. “’Tis a fact I can gut a mon like a
chicken now.”
“Sweet saints,” Lachlan muttered.
Finn and Ramsay looked equally scandalized
and intrigued. Their mouths both hung open.
“You can gut a mon like a chicken?” This
from Finn.
“Aye,” Catriona chimed in. “’Tis the truth
my beloved sister-within-the-law has taught us thusly. I canna wait
until our next lesson on the morrow!”
Lachlan put his head in his hands. Veronica
stifled a chuckle. Life in the Middle Ages was proving to be
amusing.
Her Kalari lessons with Moira and Catriona
notwithstanding, the next two weeks passed in relative quiet and
calm. Her students were progressing quite admirably—a fact she took
great pride in. Veronica was certain that, if ever the castle came
under siege, her mother-in-law and sister-in-law would take out
quite a few eyes and penises. Lord knows their determination alone
would frighten the hell out of any would-be assailants.
The seamstresses and cobbler had been
working day and night and were expected to present their handiwork
to Veronica before lunch. She woke up extra early that day, bemused
by the fact she was actually looking forward to it. She told
herself it was so she could give Catriona her shoes and gowns back,
but conceded a part of her was intrigued regardless. A wardrobe
fitting was not a luxury she’d ever thought anyone from 2075 A.D.
would experience ever again.
Then there was Lachlan. His nearness was
getting to her, especially at night when they laid side by side. Or
when the nightmares came, flashbacks to near death experiences
she’d endured during her years long journey to find Victor.
Mentally, they were overwhelming to her. It was in those moments
that Lachlan scooped her up and clasped her in his massive arms. He
stroked her hair and rocked her back and forth, whispering promises
to her that she’d never have to fear for her safety again. He
cradled her like a baby, soothing her until she fell back to
sleep.
His strength and goodness were getting past
her self-erected emotional wall. More to the point, he was
getting past it.
The daylight hours, on the occasions she was
alone with him, were equally beckoning. Lachlan’s heavy-lidded
stares and ever aroused body were getting more and more difficult
to ignore. Not to mention his killer physique, handsome features,
and unrelenting will to make Veronica feel happy and secure. Yes,
she realized, blowing out a breath as she slid off their bed and
took to her feet still wearing her short chemise, he was getting to
her. Everything about him, down to his very scent, was powerful,
masculine, and alluring.
She practiced the rigorous form of Kalari
she was accustomed to there in the bedroom. It was easier to
exercise with her shorter chemise on rather than in the knee-length
chemise she reserved for wearing around Moira and Catriona. She was
concentrating so intently on her moves that she failed to notice
when Lachlan entered the bedroom. It was difficult to guess how
long he’d stood there watching her before he cleared his throat to
make his presence known.
“You scared me,” Veronica yelped, still in a
warrior pose. She broke the stance and turned to him, her breathing
heavy from exertion. “Is everything okay? Aren’t you supposed to be
training your men?”
His dark gaze raked over her body, settling
over long on her intimate areas. Finally, he looked into her eyes.
“I decided to spend time with you this morn, wife,” Lachlan
announced. “Afore the seamstresses and cobbler arrive.”
“But my bath will be brought up…” Her voice
trailed off when she realized he was well aware of that fact and
likely depending on it. “…Soon,” she quietly finished.
“’Tis a boon, that,” he said thickly. “I
shall aid you in your bathing.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Her
tongue darted out to wet her suddenly parched lips. Arousal knotted
in her belly. Good grief, but he was getting to her. She didn’t
even know why she continued to resist him. Stubbornness? Fear he’d
find her somehow lacking? She didn’t know anymore.
A knock at the bedroom doors drew both of
their attentions away from the other. “Your bath, milady!” Maisie’s