"Maybe a bit." She could hear the smile in his voice.
She adjusted, spreading her stance.
"Better." He circled around to face her. "Now, when someone comes at ye, the first thing ye dae is create distance. Step back, get yer blade up between ye and them, make yerself a harder target." He demonstrated, his movements fluid and controlled."Then ye look fer openings. When they overextend, when they drop their guard, when they make a mistake, that's when ye strike."
"And if they dinnae make a mistake?"
"Everyone makes mistakes eventually. Especially in a fight." He moved toward her slowly. "Block me."
She brought the dirk up instinctively, but he batted it aside with ease, his hand catching her wrist.
"Too rigid. Yer arm is locked, which means I can control it with minimal effort." He released her and stepped back. "Try again. This time, keep yer arm loose, ready tae adjust."
They practiced for what felt like hours, Tòrr coming at her from different angles, forcing her to react, to defend, to find the balance between being ready and being tense. Each time she failed, he corrected her. Each time she improved even slightly, he acknowledged it.
"Better," he said after she managed to deflect one of his approaches without him immediately overpowering her. "Ye're learnin'. Though ye're still thinkin' too much instead of reactin'."
"How dae I stop thinkin'?"
"Practice until it becomes instinct." He wiped sweat from his brow. "But we've done enough fer today. Yer arms must be shakin' from holdin' that dirk so long."
She lowered the blade, surprised to realize he was right—her arms ached, her shoulders burned, and she was breathing harder than she'd expected.
His thumb brushed over her pulse point, and she knew he could feel how fast her heart was beating. "When the moment comes, dinnae think. Just act."
"Tòrr." His name came out breathier than she'd intended.
"Focus, lass." But his voice had roughened. Her free hand had somehow come to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through his sweat-dampened shirt.
"Liliane." It sounded like a warning. Or maybe a plea.
"Ye said I need tae learn tae act without thinkin'." She looked up at him through her lashes. "Tae trust me instincts."
"Aye, but—" His words cut off as she rose onto her toes and kissed him.
For a heartbeat, he didn't move. Then the dirk clattered to the ground between them as his arms came around her, pulling her against him with a force that stole her breath. His mouth openedover hers, hot and demanding, and she could taste salt from their exertion and something darker, more primal.
"We shouldnae," he murmured against her lips. "Ye need rest, and we're both covered in dirt and sweat."
"I daenae care." Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him back down for another kiss. "Take me back tae our chamber. Now."
He groaned, his control visibly fraying. "Ye're goin' tae be the death of me, lass. Ye ken that?"
He bent and swept her up into his arms, carrying her across the training yard with long, purposeful strides. She buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent.
"Anyone could see us," she said, though she made no move to ask him to put her down.
"Let them." His voice was rough with desire.
He got to the chamber and kicked open the door, not slowing his pace. He pressed her against the wall, his body caging hers. His mouth crashed down on hers in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation, his tongue forcing its way past her lips. She moaned into him, tasting salt and iron, the flavor of his sweat intoxicating. His hands gripped her thighs, lifting her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding against the hard ridge of his manhood trapped behind his clothes.
He broke the kiss with a growl, his breath hot against her swollen lips.
“Nae yet,”he murmured, his voice rough. His fingers traced the curve of her breast through the thin fabric of her gown, teasing her nipple until it hardened beneath his touch. Then, slowly, deliberately, his hand slid lower, palming her through her leathers before slipping beneath the dress. She gasped as his fingers found her soaked folds, her sensitive spot throbbing under his touch. He circled her folds once, twice, then pulled back with a smirk.
“First, I want tae worship ye.”
Before she could protest, he dropped to his knees, his hands hooking behind her thighs to spread her wide. The cool air hit her exposed flesh, but the heat of his breath followed instantly, his tongue dragging up her slit in one long, slow lick.
