Chapter 54

For the next couple days, every day was the same. Cyrus would show up in a leather jerkin and learn with the youngest from Isobel. When she finished their lessons, Frang worked with her to improve her skills beyond what she was teaching for another hour. The sweat was pouring down her face before they were finished.

McTeague had more difficulty with the footwork than the youngsters. He was used to standing a certain way for swinging a sword and this new fangled blade was so different. He could see what Frang meant by breaking old habits. He knew the youngsters sniggered behind their hands when he was particularly clumsy, as they seemed to be picking it up without problem, but he ignored their titters as long as they were polite to Lady McTavish. The Laird even thanked him the first evening after supper.

"How are your ribs?" Frang asked.

"I'll get by."

"I thank you for your support of Lady Isobel," he said.

"She deserves their respect," McTeague said. "She kept food in their bellies."

"Not just that," Frang said. "For taking your lessons with her. It gives her a measure of authority missing before. They weren't ready to take lessons from a woman."

"More's the pity. She could have poked them in the ribs instead of me," McTeague smiled ruefully.

"Lady Isobel caught on to the rapier very quickly. She was determined not to let anyone abuse her, ever again. She'll be a good teacher for them because of the similarity in height, reach and strength with those she's teaching. Right now, she retreats faster than anyone else I know. It's a good skill to have when you're young and inexperienced."

McTeague nodded to his Lord. Frang gripped him by the shoulder. "You've been a big help in other ways as well. I appreciate all you've done, McTeague."

"You're welcome, Laird."

Every afternoon, Frang would attend to the matters of the estate, meeting with William Craig and his tenants, learning more of his responsibilities as Laird. Isobel attended to the house, checking on Lachlan, meeting with the cook and head housekeeper, ensuring the house ran smoothly. They would speak at supper, before Frang disappeared to examine the books and Isobel retired wearily to her room to find another hot bath waiting. It was heavenly to indulge in a hot soak after the mornings exercise and the afternoons activities.

On the third evening after the others left, Isobel was rising from her bath when there was a knock on her door.

"Who is it?" She called.

"It's Frang," he replied.

"Just a minute. I'm finishing my bath."

He waited quietly outside until she could put on her sleeping shift and wrap herself in a robe. She opened the door.

"Can I help you, Lord Cameron?"

Aye, he thought to himself, looking at her fresh from her bath, wisps of damp hair framing her face, the material clinging to her body; you can ease the aching in my cock.

Aloud, he said, "We need to leave for the Keep tomorrow. I'm not telling anyone what time we're going, or even that we're leaving tomorrow, save Craig and McTeague. They can announce it to the others after we're gone."

"That's very wise, My Lord."

"Please don't call me, My Lord, particularly in private. I'm Frang. I'll always be Frang to you."

She nodded. "Very well, Frang. How can I help you?"

"Is your patient ready to ride horseback tomorrow or shall he stay here longer?"

"He can ride, Frang. I'm sure he's eager to be back with his friends."

"We're going to leave suddenly. Take only what you can carry behind a saddle. Have written instructions for the cook and housekeeper to give them as we leave. I'm not trusting anyone else until they've proven trustworthy."

"Aye, I'll be ready."

"I think we'll start the day as we have the last few, with training, but break halfway through. You'll be dressed for riding and won't even need to change clothes. Not even our own men will know lest they speak by accident. Bjarkë has identified those going back with us. They'll be told with twenty minutes notice. I'll not risk your safety with wagging tongues. We've chosen a route that avoids the last ambush location and other one's we're familiar with."

"It's a good plan."

Frang stood there a moment, looking at her, hot yearning clearly visible in his eyes. She pulled her robe closer, feeling bare under the intensity of his stare. He lowered his eyes.

"I hope you've enjoyed your hot baths, Lady Isobel?"

"Very much, Frang. Thank you for arranging them."

"Good night, Isobel."

"Good night, Frang."

Isobel closed the door behind him with a shiver. The heat of his gaze left her feeling cold rather than warm. She would have feared him had he ever been less than a gentleman. She climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.