Jack nodded. “If ye intend to become me wife…”
“I havenae even made me decision.”
“Ye need to ken how to fight,” he insisted.
“Ye make it sound easy,” she said.
“It is. If ye stop thinking about it, like it is one of yer poems.”
Her laugh was small. “Convenient advice from a veteran.”
He did not answer. He quickly snatched her wrist instead. She gasped and turned on instinct, yanking her arm free. She noticed the surprise that crossed his face and noticed the exact moment it faded into approval.
“Good,” he murmured, the satisfaction in his voice more evident than anything.
They moved again, and this time, he caught her elbow and corrected the angle she had used to attack him. Then, he tapped her ankle with the side of his boot to fix her stance.
“Keep yer chin high, nae stiff. Also, make sure ye watch yer opponents’ hands and shoulders more than ye watch their eyes,” he advised between mild jabs and dodges.
Once, she had forgotten to breathe, and he had come quickly to remind her.
As they continued, a slow realization crawled down Emma’s spine. She liked this. Maybe it was the plainness or the push and pull of it all, but she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the way her body learned faster than her mind. She caught his sleeve once and let go at once, startled by her own laughter. He laughed too, a short sound that rumbled in his chest.
“Better,” he said.
Then, without warning, he drew her in by the waist. She stumbled, and heat crept up her face.
“Now, what will ye do if the enemy has ye like this?” he asked.
She braced her palm against his chest. “I will fight back.”
“And how will ye do that?”
She meant to shove him, but for some reason, she couldn’t. The space between them had shrunk, and the light from the surrounding lanterns softened his jaw. She could hear his breath, yet she did not step back.
“Caught ye,” he murmured. “Again.”
“I am tired of this game,” she said, though she did not sound tired.
“Like I said earlier, this isnae a game.” His tone shifted. The lesson sat under it like a stone. “Me wife should ken how to protect herself.”
She didn’t even try to correct him this time; his words had landed too hard.
“I assume ye daenae mean from yerself,” she said.
“Definitely nae.” His eyes darkened, but not with anger. “And ye will never need it. I will be there to catch ye.”
He let go and crouched a little to meet her gaze. “But ye will find that I like to be in control even when I am nae there.”
She folded her arms and slowed her breathing. “If ye have reason to think I am in danger, ye should tell me before I marry ye.”
A low scoff escaped his lips. “Ye daenae ken who ye intend to marry, do ye?”
Emma arched an eyebrow. “What are ye talking about?”
He exhaled slowly. “Ye are marrying Scotland’s greatest villain. Of course, there will be danger. I willnae let anything happen to ye, but ye must be prepared anyway.”
Emma waited for a smirk or that tone that told her he was teasing her, but it never came. She believed him, and that unsettled her more than the lesson had.
