“Och, nae, lass. If I injured ye, I’d never fergive myself.”
He was an overbearing ruffian, indeed. But his gentleness with her was what made her move toward him. She missed his arms around her. Blast him again for not missing it, as well. She took another step closer until their toes touched, then tilted her head to meet his gaze. His mouth was so close when he bent his head to her that she felt his breath warm against her lips. “Are you afraid of me, then, MacGregor?” she whispered against his chin and cautiously laid her hands on his chest.
She felt his body respond almost instantly. His muscles tightened. His heart accelerated. Kate rejoiced. She did affect him! It was enough to make her want to kiss him again, though in truth, she had thought of naught else since the first time he laid his mouth on hers. He lifted his arms, ready to enfold her. His breath pulled on a low, ragged groan as his hands touched her back and sank into her curls.
She stepped back, using all her will to do so. She wanted more from him than his kiss, and if she had to battle him to get it, she would. “To the yard, then. And make sure your sword is ready.”
He watched her disappear above stairs and ground his teeth at the wonderful agony hardening his loins. “Och, lass, my sword is ready. That’s no’ a problem.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
CALLUM WAS NOT A MAN to waste his time while he waited for Kate to meet him in the practice yard, and that was why Brodie found himself beneath the tip of his laird’s sword three different times in the space of two breaths. When Callum finally spotted Kate making her way to him, he waved his cousin away, stabbed the ground with his blade, and leaned on the hilt to admire her. Her skirts flared around her ankles, narrowing at her hips. The bodice she wore revealed her feminine beauty. Her hair, he noticed with a smile that darkened his eyes with desire, was still unbound, whipping across her fearless smile.
“Are you ready for me?” she called out before she reached him, then waved happily to Brodie and Angus, before accepting a lighter sword from Brodie.
“Aye.” Callum’s eyes drank in every inch of her while his lips curled into something feral. “I’m ready fer ye.”
When she faced him, he shook his head at her and stepped back. “Wait, lass, ye’ll wear some protection. Brodie, go fetch—”
Kate’s sword glittered in the sun as it descended upon Callum’s head. His reflexes were instantaneous, and, yanking his blade from the ground, he deflected the blow, paused, and sent her a stunned glare. She grinned in return and parried his next swing.
“I’d prefer it if ye wore some armor, lass,” he said and swiped his blade across her belly.
She leaped backward, easily avoiding the blow. “It hinders me. And I would prefer it if you were not so careful with me.” Slinging her sword over her head to gain more momentum, she swung left, then right, then chopped at his flanks. “I can . . .” Her sword met his in a clash of sparks. “. . . defend . . .” She sliced low at his legs. “. . . myself.”
“The lass is beatin’ his arse!” Angus roared with laughter, then yelped when Brodie cracked him broadside against his temple with the flat of his sword.
“D’ye intend to run me through, Kate?” Callum inquired with a provocative growl that sent fire down Kate’s spine.
God’s blood, she had to focus her thoughts on fighting him and not on the wickedly erotic grin on his face, the fire in his eyes. He was excited, his senses heightened. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. He looked so physically arousing, she found herself wondering what it would have been like to bed him that eve at the inn. She swung. And missed. His arm shot out and coiled around her waist. With a flick of his wrist, he spun her on her heels and hauled her back against his chest. One hand splayed across her belly, holding her close, while the other held the edge of his blade pressed to her throat. “Yer no’ concentratin’, Katie lass.”
The throaty tangle of his voice against her ear made her nipples spring to life and press against her shift. She fought the titillating effect of him behind her and rammed the hilt of her blade into his ribs.
He released her and bent over slightly, holding his side. Kate leapt away and blew a lock of hair off her cheek.
“I intend to lay you flat on your back, Devil.” She gripped her hilt in both hands and readied herself for his next assault. She countered his advance with a strike to his thigh, which he blocked almost too effortlessly. He shook his head, lowering it just a fraction to impale her with his gaze.
“And what will ye do to me when ye get me there, woman?” His voice thickened around that one word, as if to remind her that he could take her, dominate her, possess her. His lusty smile told her he wanted to do just that.
She brought her blade down hard. He leaped to the right, whirled on his boots, and whacked her backside with the flat of his blade. His grin widened when she glowered at him. He moved backward without even bothering to swing while she advanced, slicing at him viciously. “Did I say somethin’ that distracted ye again, lass?”
Kate quirked her brow at him, beginning to understand the tactic he chose to employ. The rogue would resort to anything! Devil, indeed. Well, she could be just as devious. “Aye, Callum, the thought of me atop you distracted me.” She sliced over his head, and almost took it off. “Or mayhap”—she moved forward, their blades clanging hard with each matched blow—“I would prefer you on your knees.”
She attacked. And caught him.
He touched his fingers to the blood staining his shirtsleeve, then let his smile shine on her fully. “Well done.”
“Och, Callum, forgive me!” She lowered her sword, dreadfully sorry that she’d wounded him—again. Before she had time to leap away, he was upon her, clipping the sword from her hands.
“Never show mercy to yer enemy, Katie.” His heavy voice enveloped her like smoke. He spoke so tenderly her bones near melted to the marrow.
“I have nae enemy here, my laird MacGregor.”
He reached her in one more stride, curled his arm around her waist, and lifted her off her feet into his crushing embrace. He dragged her mouth to his, claiming her with a long, hard, demanding kiss. His broad hand along her back molded her even closer to his rigid angles than she thought possible. His tongue plunged into her mouth, marauding her, stroking her in a dance so seductive she went weak against him. He pulled back from their kiss slowly, his eyes half-closed and burning. “I want ye.”
Angus and Brodie had ceased fighting and stared open-mouthed at their laird and the lass clutched in his arms. Then Angus elbowed his smaller companion and the two moved to leave them in privacy. They stopped in midstride when Maggie’s screams pierced the heated air.
Callum was the first to reach the barn. Panic coursed through him while his sister’s screams echoed through a chamber of his heart he prayed every day to forget. He spotted her crouched behind a bale of hay beside Ahern’s stall. She covered her face with her arms and did not look up even when her brother called her name. She wasn’t injured, Callum knew by her position—by her terror. She had seen blood.
