Highland Warrior by Heather McCollum (the rosie project TXT) 📗

husband so they could have their babes together. But when her friend became pregnant without a wedding, she hadn’t pressed so hard.

“You are allowed out from Brenna?” he asked.

“Calder is with her and Joshua.”

“Joshua?” The word came out like a curse. “What is he doing with them?”

She glanced at Torben. He was handsome, with light-colored hair and strong features, his strength built up with the strain of daily living and farming off their rocky land. He used to laugh often but not recently. “Brenna named the babe Joshua.”

Torben rolled his eyes. “The Sinclair is not our savior. He is selfish, cocky, and will not help us.”

She stared out toward the group and captured a strand of hair that continued to blow across her eyes, tucking it behind one ear. “To Brenna, Joshua Sinclair is her savior for bringing Hilda and holding her up during a difficult birth. And…” She gestured down the hill. “He seems to be helping us.”

Torben looked out and crossed his arms. “But he will not lead us to lay siege to the Earl’s Palace and Robert. Nor to kill Henry or Patrick or The Brute. He fears King James’s reaction.”

It was hard to imagine Joshua Sinclair afraid of anything. “Not fear but prudence guides him, Torben. There is a difference.” She held up her hand when he tried to argue. “And I have not yet given up swaying him.”

“That is part of the bloody problem,” he mumbled. “I do not like you around him. He is dangerous.”

She squeezed his arm. The two of them had grown up together, and even though she had never become very fond of him because of his caustic remarks and judgmental slander, he was a part of their extended family. “Thank you for your worry, but we want him dangerous. It rather goes along with him being the Horseman of War.”

“Horseman of War?” He snorted. “I do not see him connected to God in any way. The devil more like it.”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “Torben, we will never marry,” she said, switching topics to the likely underlying cause of his disdain.

He captured her arms, leaning in. “We could be so happy together. I could help you lead our people. My mother would be so joyful.” His look was intense, but she saw no love in them.

Kára narrowed her eyes. “Your mother would be joyful?”

“Aye,” he said, looking past her as if looking for the sour woman. “She talks of nothing except our people seeking revenge against the Stuarts for all they have done to us. If we were to wed, she would have something happy to focus upon.”

Kára sighed. “Do not wed to bring your mother happiness.” She shook her head. “It should be for your happiness.”

His eyes widened. “I would be happy, too, of course.”

She would not be happy, but that did not seem to matter to him. Kára glanced toward the men working with Joshua. “I wish to hear what they are saying,” she said and pulled away to traipse down the hill. Torben cursed, turning to go back into the house.

The wind whipped tall grasses around her boots as she strode closer until she could hear the deep rumble of Joshua’s voice. “Ye need to use your opponent’s attack against them,” Joshua said. “So, if I come at Osk…” He took two steps forward, a wooden training sword in hand. “What should he do?”

“Run,” one of Osk’s friends yelled, which made the younger men laugh and the older ones smile. But Osk did not let down his guard. He kept his gaze on Joshua, his feet braced apart and his training sword ready.

“I anticipate which way you will strike and watch for signs in your body as you near,” Osk said over the rabble.

“Aye.” Joshua took another step forward. He turned his hips slightly and moved as if time had slowed. “I am swinging which way?”

Osk nodded to his right hip. “You will swing with strength from that side.”

“And what will ye do?”

The young warrior wet his lips as if nervous but then pursed them. “Strike in the middle when you pull back to strike.”

“Go ahead,” Joshua said.

He slid his sword forward as Joshua brought his sword upward to slice down and across. Joshua turned his hips more so that Osk’s sword missed his middle and Joshua could bring his own weapon down across her brother’s shoulders, back, or neck.

Kára’s throat tightened at seeing how vulnerable her brother was. Were all of Robert’s warriors trained so well? Of course they were. Joshua had trained them himself.

Joshua backed away from her brother, and Osk turned red in the face.

“That is a move most men would make,” Joshua said. “And it could work if your enemy does not anticipate the forward attack and turns so your strike brushes by them.”

Joshua nodded to Osk. “Again.” Osk took up his stance. “Instead of going for my middle, knowing my body weight will be swinging this way…” He slowly showed his sword swiping across again. “Turn your body so my weight throws me off-balance.” The two came together, but this time Osk twisted out of the way as Joshua brought his sword over to slice him. “Keep going,” Joshua called.

Osk turned where he could bring his sword down on Joshua’s unprotected back.

“Good,” Joshua said and then looked at the men before him. “Instead of always going in for the attack, use the enemy’s own weight and speed against them. Get out of the way. Let them fall off-balance and then strike.” Many of the men nodded, their faces grim but focused.

Corey called out, “Form two lines across from one another. We will pair off and practice.”

Joshua’s gaze stopped on Kára where she stood at the base of the hill. He handed the wooden sword to Geir and strode toward her. He had removed his furs and cloak and still looked big, his broad shoulders supporting all the muscle that he’d built upon his frame. He walked the distance effortlessly, his power propelling