to approach, her nervousness returned.
“My laird.” Anna offered a brief bow.
“’Twas a good strategy to choose Duff,” he said, a smile on his face.
Ah, he saw it all, then. “I find the biggest are usually the easiest to handle owing to over-confidence. Particularly when facing someone much smaller.”
She returned to the group and they switched to swords. Using the same principles of angles and off-balancing, she applied them to armed combat. Anna ran the men through a series of drills, each choosing an angle of attack, rather than merely moving straight forward. Quicker than she thought possible, midday arrived.
“Thank you for tolerating a woman instructor, gentlemen.”
Her words inspired laughter from the group of pride-battered men. They broke for the morning and headed to the main hall to eat, Anna in their midst, Trean on her heels. She felt their acceptance, a subtle shift, which reminded her of being around her old clansmen. She wasn’t sure how much of the demonstrated respect to attribute to her relationship to Duncan, the laird, or the session they’d completed, but it warmed her nonetheless.
The men invited her to sit with them, which led to discussions of tactics on the battlefield. Trean settled at her feet, gazing expectantly at her for scraps. She smiled and scratched behind his ears while he ate a chunk of venison from the stew.
Once the meal concluded, the men returned to training while she tucked Trean into his box for a nap. She then met with Nessa to address the healing cases Nessa tended the sennight she was away. Anna longed to accompany the men back to the field, but people needed her care. Rory had recovered enough so Liam escorted him carefully home, leaving the room free once again. Anna was pleasantly surprised to see the injuries Nessa treated in her absence. As she suspected, the lass possessed a true gift for healing.
“These stitches are clean and even. His wound looks very good. Excellent work.” Anna offered her encouragement after examining a boy who had fallen against a scythe a few days past.
Nessa’s confidence seemed to soar at Anna’s praise, and her enthusiasm increased when Anna told her of the new medical book Duncan bought. They agreed to spend time each evening reading through it together.
Within a fortnight, Duncan was healed enough to walk around, though he moved gingerly. Anna wanted him to stay away from his duties at the training fields a bit longer, though she knew he was anxious to resume his routine. After their first week back, his wounds had healed enough that no more pretense existed to justify her staying in his room at night.
Duncan stood in the shade of a large oak overlooking the training grounds, legs spread wide, hands on the pommel of the sheathed claymore in front of him. He chose a stance meant to display strength, but in truth it was the only position he could hold for any length of time without falling over. His leg had healed much, but the pain remained, his muscles stiff and weak. He could not sit idle any longer. Not when the clan needed him. Not when he thought he might go mad if he stayed inside another day. And not when men surrounded Anna each morning.
It mattered little he had handpicked these men for their skill and loyalty. Duncan could not bear the thought of his woman out here without him present. The powerful emotion of the word mine echoed through his entire body, as it did each time he thought of her. He knew better than to voice his possessiveness for fear of angering her. But he would be damned if he allowed her to work with others without him overseeing her safety, and to ensure no one behaved unseemly around her.
His suspicions proved correct. The men followed her about like lovesick puppies, hanging on her every word. She, of course, remained completely unaware of her effect on them. Damned English beat down her sense of worth because she chose not to wear skirts? They were as daft as they were blind. In the Highlands, a man or woman showed their merit by their deeds, not their appearance. His men recognized her value and held her in high regard, but part of him didn’t like it one damned bit. He wanted to be the only one who perceived her as a treasure.
He stewed, gritting his teeth, clenching the sword in his hands so tightly he lost feeling in them. The