The laird grunted. “So, ye want a wife who can challenge ye in combat?”
“Aye, it seems I do. But only if ’tis Anna. You care not she has no dowry? That marriage to her would bring no alliance?”
“Ye are a good son and a fine man. At five and twenty ye know yer own mind. In a few years I will take my place on the elder council, and ye will become laird. ’Tis yer duty to marry and produce an heir. In all these years I have yet to see yer head turned by a lass. This one has not merely turned yer head, but has it spinning atop yer shoulders.” His chuckle made Duncan squirm like a lad.
“Whether ye recognize it yet or not, ye have lost yer heart to her. Yer mother and I agree on this and will support yer decision to wed Lady Anna, though I dinnae envy ye the task.”
Duncan gave a smirk in response, hiding his stunned reaction. Lost his heart to her?
They sat in silence, staring at the fire while the whisky flowed. A weight pressed on Duncan’s chest as he considered his next question.
“I wish to speak of something painful for both of us, if ye allow it.” Duncan looked his father in the eye, waiting for his father to offer a slight nod.
“Anna’s presence has disrupted me in more ways than I can count. Each seems to be more challenging than the next. I dinnae understand why she has me thinking of Callum. ’Tis almost as if he has risen from the grave to haunt my thoughts.”
Kenneth stiffened at the mention of his dead son’s name.
Duncan sighed. “We willnae speak of it if ye wish.”
A long silence stretched between them.
“Yer brother’s death deeply affected us all, but no one was more profoundly changed than ye. Ye have borne the guilt of it, though ’tis not yer burden to carry.” The laird raised a hand to stop the argument Duncan prepared to mount. “Ye became a sober lad afterward with a strong sense of responsibility. Whilst an outwardly admirable trait at a young age, yer mother and I believe the loss robbed ye of yer youth. I cannae pretend to know what it meant to lose a twin. The two of ye were closer than any I have seen. I only know what it was like to lose a son and feared what his death would do to my remaining son.
“Ye developed a keen need to protect all those who are dear to ye. ’Tis a characteristic that will help ye become a strong laird. I believe this fierce connection ye feel with Anna, along with her plight, calls to ye in a powerful way.” Kenneth paused then shook his head.
“She has endured significant loss and is adrift,” he concluded. “Those things combine to inspire in ye a protectiveness so forceful ye risk scaring her away. With her, ye have found a kindred spirit not unlike the one ye lost. Perhaps she has as much healing to offer ye as ye have to offer her.”
Duncan rose and embraced his father. “I am sorry.”
Kenneth grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, meeting his eyes with a measured intensity. “’Twas never yer fault.”
Duncan turned away. Of course it was his fault.
Chapter 11
Anna felt Duncan’s hand on her shoulder, asking her to wait as she gathered her weapons to leave the practice field. The now-familiar warm tingle from his touch tempted her to distraction. To counter the effect, she grabbed his hand and stepped to the other side of his body, applying downward pressure as she dropped to a knee, twisting away. As swift as a hawk diving for its prey, her action caught Duncan off-guard. He flipped in the air, landing on his back with a satisfying thump, struggling to regain his breath as he flopped about like a landed fish. Unable to help herself, Anna burst into laughter. Duncan clambered to his feet, his eyes wide with shock.
“How did ye do that?” His breathing labored.
She quelled her mirth enough to answer. “’Tis easy. Mayhap I will show ye some time.” She mocked the burr of his accent, flashing him a mischievous grin.
Duncan stared at her in disbelief. “Anna. Tell me, how did ye do that?”
Pulling herself under control, she replied, “I will show you another day if you wish. ’Tis not hard. I thought you only wanted to train weapons.” She walked toward her horse. Glancing over her