Page 37 of Steel & Surrender

She braced herself then for him to tell her he didn’t need her assistance, but to her surprise, Greig nodded. “Go on.” He hesitated then. “Can we try now? Sunday’s quiet.”

Brìghde nodded. “There’s a yard behind my forge. It’s private enough … a good place to train.”

They rode back to Duart village, heading toward her family’s bothy and the forge that sat next to it. Luckily, her family lived on the outskirts of the hamlet, and there had been few folk about as they’d ridden in. However, Brìghde did notice Flora, the widow who lived next door to her family, who was getting in the washing, stare at them as they approached.

Brìghde’s stomach sank.

Flora had one of the biggest mouths in Duart.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have made that offer.

Aye, she probably shouldn’t have, especially after that trouble with Ian. She didn’t need any other whispers circulating about her.

By nightfall, half the village would have them wed.

Too late now.

Hitching Sradag and Tàirneanach up to the rail outside the forge, they went inside.

Brìghde led the way through the forge, past wooden benches and walls where her tools all hung.

She noticed that Greig had left his stick strapped to the back of the saddle when he’d followed her inside. He was limping heavily, for the hill climb had tired him, but the man was stubborn. And she admired him for it.

“Ye’ll need to work up to that,” Brìghde said, nodding to the heavy iron anvil as they passed. “But it’s best to start with something lighter.”

Greig grunted, following her out back into a small grassy yard encircled by a high wooden fence. Brìghde and her father had built this fence to keep thieves out, for under the covered area at the back of the forge was where they kept their supplies—iron and the more costly steel. She couldn’t risk having anyone take it, or she’d be ruined.

Once they reached the yard, she set about gathering some lengths of iron and tying a sturdy strap of leather around them.

“What’s this then?” Greig asked, watching her work.

“It’ll be easier on yer back if ye grip the strap and lift,” she explained, focusing on making sure her knots were tight. She didn’t want any of the iron bars coming loose and crushing his foot. “I can gradually increase the weight, but let’s see how ye go.”

“Brìghde.”

A figure appeared in the open doorway then. Eòghan had spotted her return and come to investigate. Her brother’s grey eyes flew wide when he spied Greig standing over her. “Maclean,” he said hurriedly, favoring the clan-chief’s son with a respectful nod. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s all right, Eòghan,” Brìghde waved him off. “I’m just assisting Maclean with something. Can ye leave us for a bit?”

Curiosity flickered across her brother’s lean features, and his lips parted as if he was about to question her. However, a stern look from Greig sent him scurrying away.

“I’m sure Eòghan wouldn’t judge,” Brìghde assured Greig with a smile, rising to her feet. “But I imagine ye’d rather not have people staring at ye while ye train.”

“No,” Greig replied with a frown.

The stern look on his face made her wonder if he was regretting this idea of hers.

Moving forward, he took the leather strap she handed him, sliding his hands down so that he gripped it halfway.

“Bend yer knees. Keep yer back straight,” Brìghde instructed.

She’d watched enough stone throws and caber tosses over the years to understand how important that was. Her father had competed every year and won more often than he lost.

Nonetheless, Greig cut her a sour look.

“Stop glowering at me, Maclean,” she muttered, her temper fraying. “I’m only trying to help.”

His lips pursed, but he held his tongue. Instead, he actually did heed her, straightening his back and bending his knees. She noticed, however, that he kept his weight on his uninjured side. She frowned. That could cost him in competition, for as the weights got heavier, he risked unbalancing.