Page 50 of The Laird's Masked Passion

Elspeth’s eyes widened. “That is hardly fair.”

“Neither is battle.”

“Neither is marriage, apparently.”

His mouth curved. “Then ye should be well practiced.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

They faced each other on the grass. At first, he let her come to him. She was wary, which was good. Too many untrained fighters rushed in with more courage than skill and died with surprise on their faces. Elspeth circled instead, watching his shoulders, his hands, his feet. Malcolm had taught her that much.

She struck once. Colin turned it aside easily. She struck again, more quickly.

He moved out of reach. “Better.”

“Try nae tae sound astonished.”

“Iamastonished.”

She lunged. He laughed under his breath and caught her wrist, but she twisted free before he could turn the hold.

Clever.

She wasn’t strong enough to overpower him, but quick enough to make strength work for her if he was careless. He would not be careless twice.

They moved across the damp grass, blade to blade, breath to breath. Her cheeks flushed with exertion. Her braid loosened further. At one point, she nearly slipped, recovered, and used his moment of adjustment to drive him back a step.

Colin’s brows lifted. She smiled like a woman who had just stolen a horse.

“There,” she said. “Was that theatrical?”

“That,” he admitted, “was irritating.”

“Excellent.”

He should have ended it then. Instead, he found himself enjoying it. It wasn’t merely her skill, though that intrigued him. Nor was it merely the quickness of her tongue, though that had already become a hazard. It was the life of her, the refusal to fold, the fury that did not make her foolish, only bright. She had been sold, frightened, threatened, and brought into a house that did not yet know what to do with her, and still she stood in his garden with a dirk in hand and victory in her eyes.

“We need rules,” she said.

“Fer what?”

“Fer a proper match,” she explained. “A match without stakes is practice. A match with stakes is worth winning.”

“And what daes the winner receive?”

“A wish.”

Her expression changed at once, curiosity overtaking caution. “Any wish?”

“Within reason.”

“Ah. The coward’s boundary.”

“The survivor’s boundary.”

She held the dirk firmly in her hands keeping her distance.

“If I win?” she asked.