One of Graham’s brows arched a bit higher, directly parallel with the lifted side of his mustache hiked above his patronizing grin. “Whatever ye think, lassie.” His grin blossomed into a full-blown smirk. “Whatever ye think.”
Good. He was underestimating her. Fatal mistake, handsome.She settled easily into sparring mode. More than one male competitor had lost to her with just such thinking. Ever so slowly, she circled to the left each time he inched to the right. Clockwise. Good. She liked clockwise.
Keeping her knees bent and ready to spring at a moment’s notice, she kept her gaze locked with his. Most opponents telepathed their moves with their eyes and Graham seemed to be no different.
He lunged forward, sword raised, a smug look on his face.
She easily spun under his reach, then swatted his ass with the flat of her sword as she circled behind him and danced to the opposite side of the ring. Graham was holding back. If she wanted a good workout, she was going to have to get his ego engaged.
“Saint’s teeth, Graham. I canna believe ye let a wee slip of a lass smack yer arse for ye.” Angus clapped and crowed, then hopped to a higher level of seats in the bleachers. “The MacKenna shall hear of this, I grant ye that.”
Graham rolled his shoulders and resettled the sword in his right hand as he paced around the opposite corner of the ring. Ignoring Angus’s catcalls, he started circling her again. This time the placating smile was gone—replaced by a steely, slightly perturbed look of determination.
Good. Now that she had gotten his attention—time to play.She charged forward, swords raised, a screeching battle cry ripping free of her throat as she bent her knees and lunged.
Graham’s eyes flared wider. At the last possible minute, he lifted his sword and muscled down to deflect her attack.
Blades crossed around his, she locked both arms and shifted her weight. With a hard, well-practiced turn of her wrists, she sent his sword flying out of the ring, then tucked and rolled, twisted around, and whacked him across the ass again. “Come on, Graham. You’re not even trying.”
“Ye are as worrisome as a biting midge. I gi’ ye that.” Nostrils flaring, Graham bared his teeth and dove across the mat after her.
She scampered up the taut, rubbery ropes surrounding the ring and launched herself into an arc passing over his crouched form just as he reached her. Landing with a rolling handspring on the other side of the ring, she spun around with swords lifted and ready, waiting for him to turn. This was pathetically too easy.
“Bad form, Lilia.” Alberti brought his hands together with a sharp clap. “There’ll be no ropes in the sword competition next week. You will refrain from using them to your advantage. That is not the behavior of a grand champion.”
Angus thumped excitedly up and down the bleachers, his piercing whistle splitting the air. “Let the lass be, lad. She’s besting the man good and proper.”
Vivienne snuggled up against the ropes behind her, leaning in close so only Lilia could hear. “Give the poor man a wee break, ducks. Ye ken he canna help but hold himself in check against a woman. ’Tis the time he’s from.” Vivienne winked and added, “And he’s met yer grandmother. I’m sure she’s scairt the living shit out of him.”
Well, there was that. Lilia barely turned, peeping back at Graham, currently glowering in the far corner. He was passing his sword between his hands in an agitated swinging move. She really should show him a little bit of mercy. The memory of one of Granny’s many lectures played across her mind.A wise woman always knows when to allow her man to at least think he’s won.A warm knowing lightened her heart and bubbled through her soul. For the first time in her life, She understood exactly what Granny meant. Time for a little male ego damage control.
Lilia stepped back to the center of the ring and settled her footing. “Alberti’s right. I shouldn’t have cheated and used the ropes.” She tossed her second sword out of the ring, crouched low, and lowered her chin in a solemn nod. “I’m sorry and it won’t happen again.”
“And now ye think to treat me like a spoilt bairn who’s greeting about how the other lads bested him?” Graham flung his own sword out of the ring and strode two broad steps forward. Eyes narrowed and jaw set, his hands flexed open and closed as his approach slowed to an ominous, purposeful stalking.
“Well . . . ” She resettled her grip on her sword. She couldn’t make this look too easy. He already suspected what she was up to. “Youarepouting like a sore loser.” She risked circling a bit closer. “Show me what you’ve got. I’m not afraid.”
He didn’t speak, didn’t breathe, didn’t even blink.
Lilia launched herself upward a half second too late.
Graham spun low, one long muscular leg extended. He effectively swept her legs out from under her then bore down with his teeth clenched in a fierce snarl. She tried to roll but moved too late, hitting the mat flat on her back with a stinging thud.
“Dammit!” She flailed to the left but a calloused hand latched hold of her right wrist and jerked her back. She needed to keep her sword.She rolled toward Graham, straining to keep him from prying her weapon free of her right hand. If she could just pass it to her left, she could retaliate with a few well-placed whacks and win her freedom. So much for letting himthinkhe was winning. He was about to.
Graham squeezed her wrist tighter and brought his face close to hers. “Nay, lass. Ye’ll not be using this poor excuse for a blade across my arse again.” He plucked it free of her fingers and flipped it out of the ring. “And now I believe I owe ye a taste of yer own tonic.” Kneeling down, he firmly planted one foot forward, then yanked her up from the mat and pulled her over his bent knee.
“Oh, hell no!” Lilia squirmed from side to side, kicking and flailing to escape. Dangling facedown, her ass hiked up in the air and an easy target, panic mounted as she strained to wrench her wrists free of his iron grip. “You are not going to whip my ass in the middle of this ring.”
“The hell I’m not.” Graham brought the flat of his hand down hard across the meatiest curve of her buttocks with a resounding smack.
“You son of a bitch!” Dammit, that stung.She curled forward, still trying to yank her hands free. If she could just bend sideways far enough, she could bite his leg. Another echoing smack stung across her backside. An enraged roar ripped free of her lungs.
He rolled her off onto the floor and stood. “Let that be a lesson to ye. Ye should always be prepared to endure whatever ye’ve meted out.” He brushed his hands together as though they were soiled, then turned and stomped away.
Lilia rolled across the mat, wiggled under the ropes, and retrieved her sword. Grabbing the pointed tip of the dull blade, she drew it back, took deadly aim, then powered the throw with every iota of rage pounding through her. Nobody whipped her ass. Nobody.The sword flew across the room; end over end, then the weighted pommel connected with the back of Graham’s head. Hard.
The man crumpled, dropping to the floor as though he’d been shot.
