Chapter 11 Blood Like Metal
Blood Like Metal
“We should look straight at our feelings, and work out where they’re going to lead us, don’t ye think?” Struan’s words ran around and round in Una’s head. How could he have had the gall to say them to her?
Because he can see in my eyes that I’m attracted to him, she thought angrily, stabbing at her bowl of tasteless gruel with her spoon. I cannot seem to hide it.
It was ridiculous. It was infuriating. Why should she find him attractive? He was the worst man in Scotland.
The second worst, she reminded herself. This would be so much easier if he were going bald. With warts, maybe. And a wee bit less smooth-talking.
It was no good. She had no appetite, and the food wasn’t going to distract her.
The sun wasn’t quite up—she hadn’t been able to sleep—and barely anybody was in the feast hall for breakfast. The Keep wasn’t quite awake yet.
Outside, pink and gold sunlight washed the fields, silhouetting small houses and crofts in black.
Nobody was stirring yet, as far as she could tell, except for a few servants who’d prepared a pot of gruel for themselves.
Really, she was lucky that they’d agreed to share.
Sighing, she dropped the spoon into the gruel and groaned aloud, pressing her hands over her eyes.
“Come on, Una. Were ye never curious?”
It was a clever speech. Una was almost entirely sure that he’d asked her to consider bedding him, but in such a way that he could have deniability. She imagined herself telling Kai what he said, only to have Struan widen his eyes, the image of innocence.
“I never meant that,” he’d say, with an expression of wounded virtue.
She rolled her eyes. Ridiculous man. Not that she would tell Kai any of this.
There was no telling how he would react, and in truth, she wasn’t sure if she trusted Kai.
Not in a bad way, of course. He was her brother, and she loved him, but it would take time for the trust to grow back between them.
If it ever comes back.
“Una! There ye are.”
She flinched at Kyla’s voice and glanced up to see Kyla and Astrid standing over her. Kyla looked tired, with dark rings around her eyes. Una wondered if she was still sick. Astrid, on the other hand, was fresh and beautiful in a long, heavy tartan gown, her fair hair cascading loose down her back.
Not for the first time, Una felt a stab of envy. Astrid was so beautiful, so effortlessly. Sometimes Una felt as though she were carved from mud and rock, every bit as ugly as she’d been made to feel when she was a slave at Keep Dickson.
“Enjoying yer breakfast?” Kyla asked, her voice a little strained.
Una cleared her throat. “Aye,” she lied.
Without waiting to be invited, Kyla slipped onto the wooden bench beside her. Astrid remained standing.
“I’m here to apologize,” Astrid said abruptly.
“I implied that ye had feelings for Struan Dickson. That was a wrong thing to say. It was cruel, too. We are all in this together, and ye and I, we are family now.” Astrid met Una’s eye and held it.
“I should have been kinder. Ye should try to understand, though. My first encounter with Struan was not ideal…”
Una breathed out raggedly and forced a smile.
“I value yer honesty, Astrid. And frankly, I’m glad that ye will speak to me about any problems that ye see. Not everybody will.”
Astrid gave a small, wavering smile and finally slid down to sit on the edge of the bench.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said softly.
Kyla beamed at them both. “I suppose ye both heard the news? Struan gave information to Kai! He’s on our side! He’s going to help us. All of this has been worth it.”
“It was a relief,” Astrid acknowledged.
“I only wish he’d speak more to me, though,” Kyla added, sighing. “I’ve tried to talk to him so many times, but he always manages to avoid me. Even when I corner him, it’s as if he can’t bear to speak to me or even look at me. I think maybe he hates me now.”
“He doesn’t,” Una responded instantly. “He cares for ye, Kyla.”
Astrid threw a sharp glance at Una, and she hastily avoided her stare. Una began to eat her gruel again, more to avoid conversation than anything.
“Struan’s out in the training fields again today,” Astrid said after a moment’s pause. “He’s not allowed to train with weapons, of course, but he insisted upon proper combat. From what I hear, it’s not going well.”
Glancing at Kyla, Una saw that there were tears glimmering in her friend’s eye. Drawing in a breath, she forced a smile and changed the subject.
Struan’s three guards had been replaced with older, grimmer men.
They didn’t bully him or make comments as Una walked by, but there was barely suppressed anger in their eyes even so.
They were veteran soldiers, experienced enough and intelligent enough to understand the danger Laird Dickson—and therefore his son—posed to all free clans in the Highlands, and old enough to have personally lost loved ones.
The three of them surrounded Struan. There was some sort of order to the chaos. He’d grapple one, and after he’d pushed the first man away, a second man would come forward before he had a chance to regain his breath.
As she watched, one of the guards delivered a cracking punch to Struan’s jaw. He staggered backwards, eyes briefly unfocusing. Whether the guard intended to follow up or not remained to be seen. Una spoke up.
“That’s enough.”
The three men glanced her way and immediately jumped stiffly to attention. They said nothing but stepped back, indicating that the session was at an end.
Struan staggered a little, blinking at her. A tendril of blood rolled down from one nostril, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.
“Charming,” she remarked wryly. “Come, ye should take some water. I’ll watch him, men. Ye can go inside for yer breakfasts.”
The guards exchanged looks, clearly not happy, but one of them gave a curt nod. She led the way, striding across the field to a low, heavy-looking outbuilding. After a moment, they set off towards the Keep.
“There’s a water butt around the back,” she explained, glancing over her shoulder. “It’s more private, and the water seems to taste sweeter.
“Aye, as ye like,” Struan said, his voice a little thick.
Behind the outbuilding, there was a secluded corner. A stone bench was built into the wall beside the butt, and a wooden ladle hung from the lid. Struan seized it and drank thirstily, using a few handfuls of water to rinse the blood from his face. Crossing her arms, Una watched him.
“Ye could have dodged that punch,” she stated flatly.
He chuckled. “Ye think so? I don’t.”
“I call myself a warrior,” Una said, choosing her words carefully, “but I’ve only seen one big battle. I’m young, and I’m at the beginning of my journey. I know that. There’s a lot for me to learn. But ye, on the other hand, ye are a veteran.”
“Did ye just come here to flatter me?”
She ignored his joke.
“So if I, a lass with barely any experience, could see that ye could have dodged that punch, then ye could certainly have managed it.”
He was silent for a moment, leaning over the water butt. It took Una a moment to realize that he was looking at his reflection.
“Perhaps I felt that I deserved it,” he said shortly.
Una blinked. She hadn’t expected his answer.
“What?”
Struan turned to face her, and there was something raw in his eyes.
“Ye heard me,” he whispered. “What’s a punch in the face compared to what my father did to me? I don’t like to whine about my life. We all have sob stories. Sometimes, though, the pain makes me feel at home. It’s all I’ve known, after all.”
Una stared at him and swallowed hard. “Ye don’t deserve it, Struan.”
“Oh, no? Ye didn’t always think that. Once, ye thought that death was too good for me.”
“Aye, but… but people can change, can’t they?”
He chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. Struan met her eyes, and there was only sadness and heaviness there.
“Ye are right. I’ve changed. I was once a warrior, the pride of Clan Dickson. Now I’m a hostage. A traitor. A useless heir. I imagine they all laugh at me back at my father’s Keep. I used to be something, and now I’m nothing.”
Una wasn’t sure what made her move. There wasn’t much space between them, only a few strides, but she covered it at once and reached up to grab his face between her hands.
“Ye are not useless,” she hissed. “Ye are not nothing, Struan. Ye are one of the greatest warriors in the Highlands. That is true no matter who ye fight for, no matter how many punches ye let yerself take. And just because yer father turned his back on ye doesn’t mean that nobody cares for ye. Ye have a sister who adores ye, man!”
He gave a chuckle, and something like a tiny, tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. His cheeks were rough with stubble, and it prickled deliciously at Una’s palms. She swallowed hard, meeting his eye and holding it.
“And I… I’m a wee bit fond of ye myself, truth be told. Just a bit.”
He smiled properly at that, but there was sadness in it.
“Oh, aye? Forgive me for not believing ye.”
Una frowned, pursing her lips together.
Then, before she knew what she was doing, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him.
He breathed in sharply at the touch of her lips to his. There was a split second, an instant where she was afraid that he was going to turn away, to reject her. Then his arms came around her waist, strong and warm, and he pulled her against himself, hard.
The kiss deepened, the tip of his tongue slipping along her lower lip. The movement sent shivers down Una’s spine. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin through his thin, damp shirt.
Abruptly, she found herself lifted off her feet and set down neatly on the stone bench. Struan pulled back, his eyes hazy with desire. Una’s chest constricted, an insistent feeling of want thumping in her chest.
“Curious, eh?” he whispered.
Her breath trembled. “Something like that, aye.”
Struan grinned. It was a wide, proper smile, without a hint of mischief or malice, and it lit up his face so beautifully that Una could not even formulate a thought.
That was just as well, as a small voice in the back of her mind screamed, “What are you doing?” over and over, but the desire sitting heavily in her gut would not let her listen.
He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the soft skin at the side of her neck, right where her pulse thrummed under the skin. She could smell soap, a faint undertone of sweat, and something else, something sweet and savory all at once.
Lavender, Una thought dizzily.