“Will you teach me?”
“Teach you what?”
“How to fight, with a sword.”
“You already know how to fight with a sword,” he said. “Do you not? If you get any more proficient with your small sword,” he mused, “I could be in grave danger.”
I frowned at the reminder that I had hurt him.
He lifted me into his arms, holding me against him, so my bare feet were suspended off the floor. He was happy, I could read it in his eyes. “Nay, lass. I don’t wantmy Roses frowning at me. Smile at me. You defended yourself well, as you have had the need to do. Now we fight on the same side. And you have me to protect you. I’ll teach you technique, if that’s what you want. And tonight, we’ll read.”
I couldn’t help smiling back at him then, wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing him and kissing him again. The strong stripes of his eyebrows, his closed eyes, his face, his lips. “I have long wished I could read, and write.”
“Soon you’ll be able to. I think you’ll be a quick learner. Nay, lass. No more kisses. I’m late, and ’tis the least of my crimes, all because I can’t get enough of my sweet, blonde, sunny lass. God, you’re sweet. Nay, stop. I can no longer plead dire injury nor fevered delirium. Only lust and obsession, which my brothers are somewhat less tolerant of. Come, now. One more kiss. But only one.”
I could feel the lust and taste the obsession he spoke of as he returned the kiss, like milk and honey on my tongue. I wanted to wrap my legs around him or, oddly, to lie down in front of him. But I pulled away from him, not wanting to be the further cause of disruption to his schedule and his duties. “Are you certain you want me to stay with you?”
“Aye. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
* * *
FERGUSAPPEAREDALMOSTcomically relieved to be freed from his new assignment so soon. And Wilkie led me, his hand tightly around mine, through the manor and out-of-doors. The day was bright and clear, with only a few high wispy clouds to soften the light.
Some distance from the rear of the manor was a series of rectangular stone buildings and a large open area where use had cleared the grassy field to a dry and somewhat dusty training area. In the far distance a small group of boys listened as a trainer instructed them, and a few soldiers sparred farther afield. There was an archery stand with six targets set up but no one currently using them. As Wilkie had mentioned, most of the men were otherwise engaged today, and the training yards were sparsely populated.
We approached the nearest outbuilding to find Kade sitting on a cut log, under the roof of a lean-to constructed against the side of a stone building. He was sharpening a sword with a large circular fine-textured stone that spun when a foot pedal was used. Little sparks flew as he worked.
Next to him, there was a rack where ten or more swords of various sizes hung. It was clear by the bright shine of several of the swords which ones Kade had already sharpened.
Kade looked up when he saw us, and his eyebrows rose at the unexpected sight of me walking alongside his brother, my hand firmly in Wilkie’s grip.
“Wilkie,” Kade said in a casual greeting. “Roses.” He removed his foot from the pedal and turned to face us.
“Roses and I are going to spar,” Wilkie said. “She’s asked me to give her some pointers.”
Kade appeared entertained by the thought. He stood and leaned against the stone wall, folding his bare, muscled arms to watch us.
Wilkie grabbed the smallest sword—still much larger than any sword I had ever trained with—from the rack and handed it to me.
“Maybe the lass should be the one to giveyousome pointers,” Kade commented. “Would you like me to fetch you some armor, brother? Some chainmail? At least use a shield. We don’t want you confined to your chambers again. Or is that your sly intention?”
“I’ll confine you to your chambers if you don’t clapper your face.”
“I’d like to see you try. I’ll let Roses have the first go at you, and if she can’t finish you, I’ll step in.”
“Go and sharpen some swords,” grumbled Wilkie, but from the easy tone of their companionable bickering, it was clear that they in fact were enjoying each other’s company.
Wilkie raised his sword to me, taking his stance, smiling smugly at me and narrowing his eyes as though in a mock threat.
“Terrifying,” commented Kade.
The scene brought an uneasy memory to mind of our fight, of Wilkie’s spilled blood and my own. I did not raise my heavy sword to him, feeling now that practicing with Wilkie wasn’t something I really wanted to do after all. The memory of his near-death was too close to the surface. And I was distracted, too, by the intense beauty of him. The sun shone in gold-lit shards on his black-on-black hair. His white teeth flashed. His face was sun-bronzed and jeweled by the tiny shimmery glint of his day-old stubble and his laughing blue eyes.
“Hold it steady,” Wilkie instructed me.
Warily, I lifted my sword an inch higher. Even holding the handle with both hands, it was heavy enough to feel and to act unwieldy, as though it had a mind of its own. I didn’t feel confident enough to use it. Not like this. Not against Wilkie.
I lowered the sword. “Let’s not, warrior. I’ll watch you instead.”
