The Highlander's Lady Knight (Midsummer Knights #2) - Madeline Martin Page 0,27

and plopped into the sodden ground alongside where Cormac lay face-up in a puddle of mud.

She froze where she stood, exposed to anyone who could see her face. Granted, the padded hood of her armor covered her long auburn hair, but her features were decidedly feminine.

Far too much to pass for a man.

Her mouth fell open, and her wide blue gaze darted about. Quick as the lightning still forking through the sky above them, Cormac grabbed her helm, settled it on her head and dragged her from the practice field. He didn’t know where he intended to take her until they were already in his tent with the flap drawn firmly closed.

Rain pattered over the thick, waxed linen of the tent, but other than those sounds, the tent was heavy with palpable silence.

“Lady Isolde?” he asked softly.

She pulled in a breath and lifted the helm from her head, revealing her beautiful face with bits of her fiery hair slicked against her skin beneath her padded hood. “Aye,” she replied. “’Tis me.”

9

Isolde stood before Sutherland, shamefaced and exposed. He knew her secret.

She waited for his scorn. Mayhap his disgust.

Instead, he stared at her with incredulity. “Who taught ye how to fight?”

“Hugh,” she answered readily in her surprise at his response. “Our Master of the Guard.”

“Are ye all right?” He asked the question with such tenderness that it edged into the most fragile part of her heart and made an ache of emotion tighten at the back of her throat.

“Aye, I’m fine,” she answered tentatively.

“I mean from the beating ye took yesterday.” He glanced down at her body, worry bright in his eyes. “I’ve seen warriors who struggle with hits like ye took. I’ve no’ ever imagined a well-born lady might withstand them. Are ye badly hurt?”

“I’ve had worse.” She grinned. It was true. She had.

At the beginning of those early training days with Hugh, there had been cracked ribs and bruises and scrapes. All had been hidden with jewelry and veils and gritted teeth.

Sutherland laughed good-naturedly at her comment. It was the first time she’d heard him laugh. The sound was warm and pleasant, one she realized she’d like to hear more of. His green eyes crinkled at the corners, and his smile eased the severity of his face, giving him an almost boyish handsomeness.

She looked around the narrow tent. There were two cots within. Mayhap one for his brother who looked just like him. She recalled seeing him before, the man who looked identical to Sutherland, and the flicker of jealousy she’d felt when she’d seen him with Lady Clara.

Aside from the men’s cots, there were two bags set on a wax-lined sheet to keep them dry and several surcoats and tunics hanging from a line at the back. No doubt to keep them from wrinkling thoroughly in the bags.

“Ye’re serious.” His mirth faded into a sincere expression. “I hope ye’ve no’ had many more injuries than what I saw ye endure with Brodie.”

“Is it possible to become a warrior without learning to take a hit?” she asked.

A muscle worked in Sutherland’s jaw. “Why did ye do it?”

She returned her attention to him. His dark hair hung damp around his face. Even wet and cold, he looked inviting. “Why did I learn to fight?” she clarified.

He opened his hands in a helpless gesture. “Aye. And why did ye fight Brodie?”

Isolde didn’t know where to start. There was too much to tell. So many years that had built up to where she was now that she had shared with no one but Matilda. Sutherland seemed to sense her uncertainty and stepped closer, lowering his voice to something gentler and more tender.

“Mayhap, tell me why ye learned to fight.” He lifted his shoulder in a partial shrug. “’Tis a rarity to find a noblewoman who knows how to fight like a knight.”

There was admiration in his tone, and it pulled the corners of her lips into a smile that memories quickly dissolved.

“I started my training several years ago,” Isolde shut her eyes as that night so long ago came rushing back to her. “Our stronghold was attacked. It was before we had the stone keep that we do now, back when our fortifications were made of wood. We were being attacked by a rival lord who wanted our land. My father went to fight, as did my brother and all of their men. My mother was already in heaven then, thanks be to God, for no one thought to protect the women.