He responded with an oddly offensive maneuver for someone defending.
“You still haven’t told me anything of these games,” he pointed out, waiting as she took her turn.
Astrid swallowed, her anger faltering. She needed to tell him that he had to get Sitric’s permission to compete, but she knew he wouldn’t like that one bit. As much as she disliked working with him, she really did need his cooperation. Not quite ready to take that risk, she answered his initial question instead.
“They test skills that we value in a man. Many deal with water.” Astrid’s gaze lifted as a thought struck her. “Do you even know how to swim?” If he didn’t, he’d surely be killed.
The hint of a smile lifted the corners of his lips. “I know how to swim,” he whispered with amusement.
“It’s not just swimming. It’s fighting in the water. They’ll try to drown you.”
“Careful, my lady. You almost sound concerned for my welfare.”
Astrid felt her cheeks warm as her anger returned. “If you die, my plan will fail.” It sounded cold even to her ears, but the last thing she needed was to develop any sort of feelings for the warrior in all of this. That would ruin far more than just her plan for the games. And she still hadn’t forgotten that this was entirely his fault. The least he could do was help her out of the situation he’d created. “There will be rowing as well, maybe sailing. Have you ever been on a boat?”
“I sailed with your brother not two moons ago,” he replied, his voice unnervingly calm.
It had become something of a game to Astrid since the warrior had come to Dyflin—trying to get him to argue back. She’d nearly succeeded once, had seen the fire ignite behind his eyes, but his tone had stayed as calm then as it did now. His unnatural calm concerned her, for how could a man live a true life if he never gave himself over to his emotions now and again?
“There will also be drinking contests.” She leveled a doubtful look at him.
“I drink with the men every night after dinner.”
“Aye, but you’ll be deep in your cups for the contest. And you just don’t seem like the type. Have you ever evenbeendrunk?” she prodded.
“Have you ever considered that mayhap I’m drunk every night, but I’m quiet enough you can’t tell?”
She hadn’t, but she was now. It didn’t matter, so long as he could hold his own in the contest, yet her curiosity got the better of her. “Are you?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
Taking her next move, Astrid sighed. “Mendiein the contests, Cormac. I need to be certain you understand that you must take this seriously or your life could be in danger.”
“It’s touching that you’re so worried for my safety, but I assure you, I’m familiar with the concept of a violent competition.” As if to drive home the point, he captured one of her men on the board.
A fluttering traveled through her chest as her heartbeat picked up Lifting one of her game pieces, she rolled it around in her fingers as she decided on her next move.
As much as she wanted to continue prodding him—and he’d handed her an excellent opportunity to do just that—she really needed to get the most difficult part of the conversation out of the way before they planned any further.
“Sitric told me something today that is going to complicate our plan,” she began, trying to use some tact instead of simply unleashing her temper. “All the men competing will be men he has chosen and invited, so that he is happy with whomever wins my hand.”
Beside her, Cormac’s arm stilled mid-reach for the board. “Then how do you plan to get me into the competition at all?”
“You’ll have to convince him.” She took a deep breath, bracing herself.
Chapter Eight
Cormac set downthe playing piece he held, completing his move while Astrid’s words sank in.
“Let me get this straight,” he replied, turning to take in her response. “Not only do you wish me to risk my life to save you from an undesired marriage, but now I also have to beg your brother for the opportunity to do so?”
He should never have agreed to this bargain. Sitting back, away from their game, Cormac crossed his arms and regarded Astrid for the second time since he’d entered his room to find her waiting.
The first time he’d focused on her fully, he realized that when she wasn’t thwarting his every move she was—in point of fact—the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. During their previous encounters, he’d been so distracted by her temper that he hadn’t noticed the flecks of gold in her fiery hair and her honey-hued eyes.
Or the spray of freckles that spread over the bridge of her nose.
Or the way that her lips resembled a boat instead of a bow.
