Page 17 of A Rogue and a Noble Lass

“I dinnae seek their approval. I dinnae need it. This is where I belong. I am a warrior,” she said.

“Let us prove it, then,” he replied and drew his sword.

It was long and wide, beautiful and shining when illuminated by the moon. He held it securely and the way he moved made it seem as though it was a part of him. He was powerful and precise, and there was a grace to his movements that only a warrior could admire. Beitris tried to put these thoughts out of her head and remembered what she had learned earlier in the day.

Beitris spread her legs and made sure to keep her weight on her back foot, pushing forward when she wanted to strike, bringing her other hand up to make her defensive stance stronger. They grunted as they moved about the field, blades clashing, and it wasn’t long before she felt the prickle of sweat upon her skin. She gritted her teeth, eager to prove herself to him even though his opinion shouldn’t have mattered.

At one point he twisted his wrists and dealt a flurry of blows towards her. His sword moved at impossible speed and it took everything she had to parry the blows. Reverberations ran down her arm and she felt the pressure on her wrists. They threatened to buckle, but she urged herself to maintain her composure.

As the blades crashed against each other she stared between them and saw his eyes, focused and cold, intense and unyielding. The sounds were getting louder and louder until they deafened her. Was she screaming? She couldn’t tell if she was or if the sound was locked in her mind.

Eventually they pushed each other back, staggering away, and they were both panting. Beitris’ hands were stinging, but she dared not let go of her sword.

“Are ye sure ye never received any formal training?” she asked in between heavy breaths. “There’s nae shame if ye were once a part of Warnock’s guard. Ye would nae be the first one we welcomed intae our ranks.”

“I am just a natural with a sword,” he replied.

Beitris wiped sweat from her eyes and stared at him. There was still something that unnerved her about him and made her want to be cautious. He could be aloof and distant.

He rushed towards her, not giving her an opportunity to ask more questions. Her senses became overwhelmed by his masculine scent and the heat of his body that burned in the cold night. Everything else in the world melted away. There was only him and his sword. They consumed all her attention.

They continued fighting until Beitris could take no more. She was exhausted. Sweat coated her skin and her arms felt as though they were going to drop off. Muscles ached, muscles she didn’t even know she had. Every time she inhaled it felt as though daggers were scraping against her lungs.

A waterskin was tossed at her feet. She was too thirsty to be proud. In one motion she picked it up and held it to her lips, drinking deeply.

When she was done, she wiped her lips and tossed it back to Logan. He plucked it out of the air and took a drink himself.

“Why are ye daeing this?” she asked. “Why are ye here with me?”

“I dinnae like the guards making crude comments.”

“But ye dinnae hae tae train me at all. There must be a reason.”

“Would ye believe me if I told ye that I want us tae win, sae it’s in our best interests for ye tae be as well-trained as possible?”

Beitris cocked her head and stared at him for what seemed like an eternity.

“Nae,” she said eventually.

Logan’s tongue darted out quickly as he glanced at his feet.

“Verra well. I would like something from ye. A good word. While I’m glad that Donal hae accepted me as his second I ken there are limits. I hae nae proven myself in battle yet, nae alongside this army anyway. But I ken I can dae more. I am better than any other man in this army, and I should be leading them.”

Understanding came over Beitris’ face. There it was. All men had their ambitions, she supposed.

“Ye want tae be a captain.”

“Aye.”

“Ye ken that there can only be sae many captains, and there are plenty already. In fact, I think there may only be one opening left.”

“Then it should be mine.”

A smile flickered on her face. “Dinnae be sae hasty. That position is mine, or dinnae ye nae think that women should be warriors?”

“My sister was the strongest person I hae ever kenned. She was a warrior. Ye will be good competition.”

“Ye think ye stand a chance against me?”