amount. But he could not quell his hopeful thoughts.
The rain came down in earnest as she approached in her brother’s armor.
Cormac clasped her forearm as he would do with any other warrior. “Good morrow, Lord Easton. I see ye’ve joined us on this bonny summer day.”
“I couldn’t let you Scots enjoy all the fun,” Isolde said.
She did a fine job of masking her voice to sound like a whiny earl. Now that he knew her secret, however, he could detect the underlying femininity. How had he missed it before?
“I spoke with yer sister last night,” Cormac said. “I trust she is well?”
Isolde scoffed. “Foolish chit doesn’t know her own limitation when it comes to wine.”
Cormac had to fight to keep from chuckling at her own self-rebuke. “Did she tell ye what I said to her?”
“She did not rouse as I was breaking my fast this morn. I dare say we will not be seeing her for the remainder of the day.”
Lightning streaked overhead, and a roll of thunder snarled. Fat drops of rain hammered down at them.
Cormac widened his stance. “I’d like ye to reconsider my offer to stand in yer stead with Edmund the Braw.”
“My reply is still nay.” Though Cormac couldn’t see inside the helm, he was certain Isolde was shaking her head within.
“He’s a powerful warrior,” Cormac cautioned. “The best Scotland has ever known.”
Isolde was quiet, and the pinging of raindrops pelting her helm filled the silence. “As I said before, help me by training me to beat him.”
Cormac clenched his teeth. Instruction would still not be enough to save Isolde. However, if he could train with her and show her where she lacked strength, mayhap she might change her mind and allow him to fight Edmund the Braw.
“Aye.” Cormac led Isolde to an awning-covered overhang to provide some reprieve from the worst of the rain. “I’ll help ye, but I’d like a favor in return.”
Pip huddled against Isolde’s leg, eyeing the storm as though it meant him harm. “Of course you do,” Isolde replied in a haughty tone, unlike her usual appealing demeanor.
Again, Cormac bit back a chuckle. For all her sweetness and consideration, she played the part of an entitled noble well.
“I’d like to get advice from ye on how to speak to Lady Isolde.” Somehow, he managed to proffer his request with a straight face.
Another grumble of thunder came from the blackened clouds.
“Why ever would you care for advice on how to speak to her?” Isolde asked sharply.
“Because I’ve no’ ever been good at speaking with women.” Cormac shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’ve no’ ever been interested in trying to appeal to a lass, before her. Which only makes me say foolish things even more when I’m around her. I wondered if ye might offer some suggestions. Assuming ye know what she likes to speak about.”
The shush of the falling rain filled the silence. “Aye,” she replied finally. “She wants respect and to be seen as more than a prize to wed. For someone to appreciate the person that she is beneath her beauty and wealth.”
The patter of rain began to slow to a steady drizzle.
Cormac nodded. He could do that.
“I’ll give you more than that later, after I’ve thought on it some,” Isolde replied. “The rain is slowing, and we haven’t a second to waste.”
He followed onto the muddy grass. Pip, however, remained under the awning and was joined by Alan.
“When ye go to strike, draw the blade up with the strength in yer belly rather than yer arms.” Cormac clasped his weapon’s hilt in his hands and swung it toward a wooden post with just the strength of his arms. He repeated the action again, this time drawing the strength from his stomach. The pole split in half.
Isolde approached and did as he had done. On her second strike, the top of the pole went flying and splashed into a puddle several paces away.
“Did ye feel the difference?” He asked.
“Aye,” she replied. “Show me more.”
And he did. They spent the better of the morning going over various battle techniques. The lightened rain did not hold and eventually became a downpour that drenched them, weighing down the gambeson beneath their chainmail as well as their surcoats. Other men practiced alongside them, paying them little mind.
Cormac showed Isolde how to throw a man over her back despite her size and bade her try it herself. Unfortunately, when she grabbed him suddenly and slung him over her shoulder, her helm slipped from her head