“Submit now. Ye tried fairly,” he grunted.
“Nae on me life,” Grace retorted.
She feinted to the right, saw a stone sticking above the ground. She stuck her shoe there, faking a fall. Thinking he was close to winning, he made to near the sword to her exposed throat. Grace took the opening on his ankle and drew him down, similar to the move Duncan had made when they fought. The big man toppled. She scrambled up and out of the reach of his hands and held Duncan’s sword to his neck. “Ye, submit.”
Cheers rose around them. The man braced his arms on either side of him and stood. He smirked at Grace, “Luck is all it is.”
With an irritated expression, he strode from the arena. Duncan reached her first, and his voice rose over all the other congratulations.
“I taught ye somethin’ valuable after all,” his grainy voice said.
Blushing, Grace remarked, “Brutes are a fair game. He would have cheated, given the chance.”
She tossed his sword at him, just as Craig came closer. “So, ye fight Bryce next an’ ye would have defeated all of our finest warriors.”
Duncan snorted, “I’d hardly call that fight in the woods a defeat.”
“Want to go again?” Grace challenged, a grudging smile playing around her lips. It was the first time she truly felt alive since she had arrived. The fact that Duncan stood next to her with his chest exposed, just added to the rosiness in her cheeks.
“Seriously. Tis quite alarmin’. Although I garner Bryce would be a tough one. He killed more than any Scot that day.”
Grace’s ears pricked up, “What day? The invasion?”
“Last day of battle I mean, not the camp invasion. Should’ve seen him. Like a damned war god. ‘Tis his land the English tried tae steal, ye understand.”
“Ah,” Grace went. She made her voice go soft and complimentary. Inside, her chest was in chaos. “Even high-ranking officials? Surely, he couldnae fight harder than Duncan.”
Duncan gave a lazy grin, crossed his arms over his sword. “Aye, remind me second-in-command where his loyalty should lie.”
Craig faked clearing his throat, “I should go.” He moved a distance from Duncan, then answered her question. “Aye indeed, the higher the rank, the more Bryce is interested.”
At that time, Bryce had already left for his clan with his father, so Grace pretended to laugh, while her blood roared. “All right, when he returns, I will challenge him tae a duel.”
Walking backward, Craig threw out, “Dae it tomorrow. He will be back then.” Then he turned and jogged the rest of the way.
“Ye dinnae have tae push yerself-”
“Dinnae worry,” Grace blurted. Imitating Craig, she hurried to the buckets, and ran the rest of the way into the castle through the servant’s entrance. All that thumped in her head was,maybe… just maybe, Duncan wasn’t the killer.
Duncan could not find rest. He’d taken a blighted cold bath, stuffed himself with meat and wine and had even tried to pour his mind into one of Sheena’s books. That just made his mind wander more.
All he saw was her hair flying as she had challenged a warrior more than twice her size. Her confident smile, that chest bouncing with every move. Her witty comebacks for every tease. He craved that woman more than a thirsty man craved water in a desert. His body burned for her closeness, her touch. If they had not been interrupted earlier, he would have surely kissed her. He glanced down at his rigid erection and gritted his teeth. Bringing relief to himself would not satisfy the core need in him. He discarded the idea as it came. Frustrated, Duncan threw down the book. This was all futile. Cussing, he left his chambers and headed for the stairs.
Those few minutes at the arena reminded Duncan that she was an itch in his heart, a voice that quenched his thirst, a river of peace for his embattled soul. He’d missed the hearty sound of her laugh. How she’d bite the inner part of her lips when she was thinking. The flare of her nostrils when she was incensed. Those images flashed through his mind at a dizzying rate.
He stood by the kitchens, from where he knew she would emerge.
Duncan did not know what words to speak. Nor how he would clear up the misunderstanding. He just knew that had to be the last day they spent as total strangers under the same roof.
So, he waited.
After an hour, she still had not come. He finally stormed the kitchens and found it empty. He went up, checking the halls for her. Silhouettes had him whipping his head around, footsteps had his heat racing, but none turned out to be her.
He’d always loved the castle, but that night he cursed it as he turned from one hallway to the next, to the next. She was also not in the quarters she shared with Maisie. Back in his wing, he trudged toward his own rooms, when a pale silhouette, lit by the flickering flames of the torches, dashed past him. Duncan rushed after it and saw her dark hair almost disappear.
He grabbed her wrist before she could run.
“Stop.”
