“Thank ye for breakfast, Rowena.”
He bent near me, the bowl before him.
“And for caring for me these last days. Can I kiss ye?”
As always, the casual way he asked—as if my opinion mattered—made my throat tighten. He’d returned my dagger, he’d made certain I could stop him if I wanted. And now heasked.
“Nay,” I rasped, pulling the bowl from his hands and turning away. “You said you?—”
“Would wait until ye beg for it, aye,” he sighed too forlornly to be believed, then stooped to pick up his boots. “I’ll see ye on the training field this afternoon?”
When I risked a peek at him, he nodded.
“Yer promise. Sparring with me.”
With that, he turned and padded barefoot from the cottage, and I found myself slumping against the table. Sparring! I’d forgotten ‘twas the point behind the last few days!
‘Twill be what you need, to tire yourself out.
Aye, I couldn’t afford another night lying next to him, feeling his warmth, his comfort, and not giving in to temptation.
He is your enemy. Let that count for something.
I could find him attractive, and mayhap even admirable, but Ihadto cease lusting after him! This inconvenient way my core throbbed and my nipples hardened at the thought of him touching me…
“Shite,” I muttered, turning to drop the bowls in the basin. I had enough to do to occupy me.
Until this afternoon.
Unfortunately, by that afternoon, I was a bundle of nerves. I’d spent the day alternating between a strange arousal, a dreadaboutthat arousal, and—as the hour drew closer—excitement.
‘Twould feelgoodto have a blade in my hand again.
These last few years, my opportunities to spar had been few and far between. The men of the village hadn’t trusted a female who could fight. Since I was already seen as an outsider, my superior fighting skills didn’t help win them over. When I became antsy, or missed my father too much, I would wait until the evening and go through my forms out in the back garden where no one could see me.
But Battleborn Village…they’d accepted me thus far. They seemed to think itamusingI’d bloodied their chief in combat and didn’t mind that I wore trews as easily as gowns. And Vrogul had invited me to spar—nay,orderedme to spar with him. What would they think, to see us fighting?
Aye,nervouswas an understatement, which is why I was so damned relieved when I approached the sparring grounds to discover Vrogul alone. He smiled slightly to see me then jerked his head, indicating I should follow him.
“My warriors are performing their afternoon duties. I hope ye dinnae mind that I wanted ye alone?”
Relief coursed through me; relief that I wouldn’t be on display. Still, I had to pretend cockiness. That’s what sparring was about.
“Because you do not want your clan to see you lose to a woman?”
He grinned over his shoulder at me.
“Aye, that’s why,dkaar.”
In one easy movement, he pulled my father’s sword from his belt and turned to present it to me.
“Does this area meet yer requirements?”
I barely glanced around at the training ground—a well-worn dirt circle beneath a towering ancient oak—because my attention was on my blade.
“Aye,” I whispered reverently, reaching for the hilt. A shudder of joy went through me as my fingers curled around the familiar leather, and when I finally looked up, ‘twas to see Vrogul gazing down at me, something in his expression I couldn’t identify.
So, I stepped back and took a ready position.
