Page 50 of Seduction in a Kilt

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Ivy said goodbye to Effie and went to see if he was in their chamber, but it was empty. She frowned as she shut the door and set off down the stairs, growing increasingly annoyed. She had hardly been without him since coming to Castle Stewart—whether she had liked it or not—and now she was certain he was deliberately staying out of her way.

She looked around the castle and asked a few of the servants she passed if they had seen him.

“He’s out at the training grounds, melady, with the laird and Magnus, I believe,” the guard on the keep door finally enlightened her.

“Thank ye,” she told him. She set off in that direction, but then she had an idea, turned around, and hurried back to their chamber. There, she quickly changed into her boy’s outfit, minus the cap, tying her hair back out of her eyes instead, before making her way to the training grounds.

When she arrived, she saw a group of soldiers standing around watching something. The clash of metal on metal, the thud of sword on leather and wood, and the heavy grunts of men fighting filled the air from behind the wall of men. Pushing her way to the front, she saw it was Liam and Knox sparring with each other.

Both were panting and sweating with exertion as they traded bows and shoved each other back and forth using their shields. She was soon engrossed in watching the two men, admiring their fighting techniques. They were well matched. The laird was a well-built, handsome fellow, and she could tell he was an experienced warrior and a worthy opponent.

But it was Liam who drew her eyes. Despite his size, he was incredibly fast on his feet, spinning and ducking and diving, and so dexterous in wielding his sword, it was sometimes almost impossible to see anything of his blade but a flicker of bright metal moving at speed through the air.

He fought ferociously, like a whirlwind, his long dark hair sticking to his forehead beneath his helmet, his honed muscles rippling beneath his sweat-dampened shirt and leather vest as he spun and danced. To Ivy, he was glorious, like some story-book hero of old.

It was thrilling. She could not seem to take her eyes off of him, suddenly feeling hot and flushed all over, hardly realizing she was holding her breath. Then she gave herself a mental shake, remembering she had come to have things out with him. She turned and made her way back across the field to the armory, where she found a squire to help her gear up for a sparring session.

A short time later she strode back to where Liam and the laird were still bashing away at each other amid the gathered crowd. But now she was sporting a helmet, sword, shield, a shirt, and a pair of stout leather vambraces laced onto her wrists and lower arms to protect them. Once again, she forced her way to the front of the spectators. Then she waited for them to notice her.

It was Laird Stewart who caught her eye. He smiled at her, his bright blue eyes twinkling merrily.

“That’s enough fer today, me friend,” he suddenly told Liam, his breath ragged as he shoved his partner back with his shield, stepped back, and lowered his sword.

“Eh?” Liam grunted, his sword arm still raised, looking surprised. Some of the soldiers watching expressed their disappointment.

“I think ye may have another partner wishin’ tae spar with ye,” the laird said, jerking his chin in Ivy’s direction. Panting, Liam glanced at her, seemingly a little taken aback to see her in her fighting gear. “Huh,” he added, stepping back, slinging his shield over his back and sheathing his weapon.

In that instant, she knew she was right: he had been avoiding her on purpose. She gave him a sharp look, to let him know she was on to him and was not about to let him get away with it. She took a small satisfaction to see how uncomfortable he appeared.

“Please, dinnae stop on me account,” she piped up with false sweetness.

“’Tis all right, lass, I’m tired of him hammerin’ me anyway. I need a break,” Laird Stewart said good-naturedly, leaning over with his hands on his knees as he got his breath back.

“In that case,” she said, stepping closer to Liam and pinning him with her eyes, “if that’s nae enough fer ye, Liam, maybe ye’d like tae blow off some steam by sparrin’ with me? Without a wager this time.”

Liam looked doubtful.

“Go on, man, unless ye’re scared she’ll beat ye,” the laird taunted him playfully.

Liam shrugged. “Aye, all right, I’ll spar with ye if ye like,” he finally said, getting into position opposite Ivy, who smiled as she wielded her weapon and prepared to attack.

They began playfully sparring, with Ivy summoning all her skills to keep Liam on his toes, eager to show him she was no pushover. It was not long before the trading of blows started to dispel the tension between them, and Ivy’s own annoyance with Liam began to fade. In fact, she began to enjoy herself.

The laird and Magnus stood with the other men, clapping, laughing, and cheering her on whenever she landed a strike against Liam, and even he eventually started smiling and laughing himself.

They had been fighting for several minutes when Ivy blocked one of Liam’s intended sword strikes with her forearm and thrust at him hard in the chest with her shield. But when she tried to draw back, she found she could not get away. Each time she moved, she was jerked back. She quickly realized that her hand had gotten caught up somehow in some part of his clothing.

But however hard she tried, she could not seem to pull herself free. Meanwhile, Liam, not realizing what had happened, was trying to move backwards, but all that did was get them even more firmly caught up together.

“Hold still! Somethin’s gotten snagged,” Ivy exclaimed, pausing the fight. With her free hand, she sheathed her sword and dropped her shield. Then she went right up close to Liam to try to see what the problem was. She stood, her eyes at his chest height, standing less than a foot away from him, both of them breathing heavily from the exertion.

“What is it?” he panted, looking down at her and the small space between them where her hand was imprisoned against his chest. Ivy could feel the thudding of his heart against her, just as it had when they had kissed, and the heat they were both generating was making her hotter than ever. Memories of their erotic encounter washed over her as an enticing masculine scent wafted up her nostrils, sending a tiny arrow of pleasure shooting through her.

Trying to stay composed, Ivy peered down at her stuck hand, and she immediately realized what had happened. “Ach, me ring’s gotten caught up in yer shirt somehow. I’m afraid it’s made a hole,” she told him. “Stay still, and I’ll see if I can work the ring free gradually without makin’ it any bigger.”

Her head was practically leaning against his chest by now, for she had to get right in close to him to see how to untangle the ring without doing any further damage. The trouble was, this only made her even more conscious of just how close they actually were and the effect it was starting to have on her.