“My late father is the man in my mind,” Callum confessed. “He often told me I was worthless. Too short. Too delicate. Soft in head and hands from reading rather than fighting. My cousin Red was his favorite.”
“Wrong,” she replied fiercely. “Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Now pick up that damned sword and show me Callum MacIntyre. The learned scholar who negotiates trade. The lord of the bow. The lover who brings such pleasure. Show me him with sword in hand, for he is worth all the treasure in the kingdom.”
As he leaned down to grasp his sword, a flame sparked in his soul, cleansing the shame that had festered there for so long. Filling him with determination.
“Aye, lady. Let us dance.”
His heart in his mouth, Alastair watched Callum pick up his sword and prepare to fight.
It did sting a little, well, more than a little, that something he’d said so often to his laird was only now being considered properly. Callum yielded to him so very sweetly on numerous matters, especially in bed. But he’d never been able to convince him of his worth, to remove the mocking voices of his wretched father, Red, or those in his clan who would be guided by such absurdity, and help him see the man that others admired.
Isla had convinced him. Easily.
Once again that poisoned thorn of doubt sank into his skin. Was he no longer useful?
He’d spent most of his life striving for that, so never again would he be abandoned. In the past twenty years, although Callum and Lady Maude had always made him welcome at Glennoe, he’d still felt like he didn’t fully belong. While he had his and Callum’s longstanding friendship in his favor, Isla was an exceptional woman. Strong and skilled. Beautiful, lusty, and sensual. And she could give Callum what he could not: coin, a powerful alliance with her clan, and children. But her family would be an obstacle to his happiness, not to mention the king. James might accept the one man, two women trio at St. Andrews, but it could be much harder for him to see two men and one woman, and be reminded of his late father. The relationship between James and the old king had been about as complicated as Callum and the old laird’s.
Far too much to ponder for a simple squire.
A loud clash of steel jolted him from his bleak thoughts, and his heart twisted with both pride and despair at the delight on Callum’s face when he retained the sword in his hands rather than having it dislodged onto the floor.
“Better. Much better,” said Isla as she circled Callum. “But do not stand still. It is much harder to remove your innards when you are moving. Not skittish, like an ill-tempered horse, but purposeful. Confuse me. I think I know what you will do next…make me doubt myself. It is similar to one of your trade negotiations. Quick wits win the day.”
Callum stepped left then right before thrusting straight ahead, but Isla easily deflected the blow with a flick of her wrist. “I am too slow, still.”
“Yes,” she replied gently. “Behave as a hawk. Circle to learn the landscape, then swoop to strike. Use your opponent’s arrogance against them. Most will not wait to learn your strengths and weaknesses, they will only see an advantage in height or reach, think that means an easy victory, and move to deliver the final blow. That is when they are most vulnerable. Would you not agree, Alastair?”
He grunted. “If your opponent is larger, he may not be able to change course so easily. Like a ship approaching rocks.”
“I could not have described it better,” said Isla, darting forward with a downward cut that almost removed Callum’s arm. “Yes! See what you did there? A neat sidestep that saved your arm. You are heeding my words and learning; I did not turn my wrist away. A larger man might be on his knees weeping right now, although I must remind you that the tourney rules only permit blunted swords. I am more dangerous than your opponents will be…Alastair, would you come and play the part of devilish beast once more? I need to correct Callum’s elbow.”
Alastair nodded. “He always drops it.”
“That he does. We’ll have to start punishing him,” Isla purred, as she handed him back his sword and moved to stand next to Callum.
Callum blushed but readied himself into his battle stance again, and Isla slid two hands under his elbow, lifting it, and moving his forearm back and forth, turning both wrists to show him easier ways to move the weapon without losing power. Over and over they pressed swords, upward cut, downward cut, diagonal slash, until Callum became more comfortable with the adjusted arm position and held it without assistance.
“Fight,” commanded Isla.
Callum lunged at him, but his blade was too upright, and with Alastair’s height advantage, he easily blocked the move.
“Too high,” said Alastair. “Cutting my ear will not stop me. And if you drop that left elbow, I will trap your arms near your body with my reach, and enjoy sliced Callum for supper.”
Isla nodded. “He’s right. Again.”
They hunted each other then pounced; swords clashing once, twice, thrice, the shrieking sound overloud in the room. Yet this time his laird held firm, and they stared at each other through the frame of two steel blades.
“Better, Master Graham?” asked Callum as they turned in a slow circle, each breathing hard and dripping with sweat.
His cock jerked and began to harden. “Adequate, my laird.”
“Ha. Damned by faint praise. What say you, Isla?”
When she did not reply, they both turned their heads to look at her. Isla’s cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and falling…and one hand rested between her legs.
She bit her lip. “Forgive me. But watching your exertions…the improvement…then the way you eat each other up with your eyes…”
“It makes your cunt wet?” asked Alastair.
“Yes.”
“You need release?”
“At once,” she replied, spreading her thighs a little.
Alastair shook his head before walking to the chaise to sheath his sword, Callum right behind him to do the same. “Alas, you must wait.”
“Wait?” Isla stared at him in shock, and Alastair almost smiled. Indeed, a lady well used to servants obeying her commands. But this night, if she wished for pleasure, she would have to earn it. She had taught them skills in sword fighting. Now it was his turn to teach her about pleasing a man. Or this night…pleasing men.
“Indeed. You have been the master, but now you must be the student. Callum and I will both attend to your needs…after you learn how to suck our cocks.”
Isla quivered. “I suppose you’ll ask me to be naked for this lesson. So you might spend your seed over my breasts and rub it into my nipples. And spank me for misbehavior.”
So that was what the naughty lass wanted, was it?
“Not ask,” Alastair growled. “Insist. And yes, you well know the punishment for impatience.”
She sucked in a breath and sauntered toward them, kicking off her shoes, before halting beside the chaise to peel off her stockings and hose. Soon her spicy wetness scented the air, and his mouth watered to taste her. No matter that he was beneath her in every way the world would measure, Isla Sutherland would fully surrender to his tongue this night.
“Kneel on the cushion, Isla,” said Callum. “You’ll be warm enough in front of the fire.”