Page 36 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“Strike,” he told her.

She brought the wooden blade downward. Roy blocked it with ease.

“Again.”

She struck harder. He turned the blow aside.

“Again.”

By the tenth attempt, color had risen in her cheeks. A strand of hair clung to her temple. Her breathing deepened, though she refused to admit she was fatigued. Roy stepped back across the yard, allowing her to advance.

“Dinnae watch me sword,” he instructed.

“It is the portion of ye most likely tae strike me.”

“Watch me shoulders. Me hands may lie. The body seldom does.”

“Men’s mouths appear equally unreliable.”

“That lesson requires nae sword.”

She attacked as he was answering. The wooden blade struck his upper arm with a sharp crack. Roy stared at the spot she had hit.

Donaldina froze. Then satisfaction slowly spread across her face.

“Ye said tae watch the body.”

“I did.”

“Yers suggested distraction.”

“Yers suggested obedience.”

“That was yer first error.”

Roy nearly laughed out loud, but he caught himself just in time. Donaldina saw it, and her smile grew even broader. “Again,” he ordered.

This time she came at him without hesitation. Her strokes remained rough, driven too much by the arms and not enough by the body, but she was quick. More dangerously, she learned. When he turned one attack aside, she changed the next. When he tapped her unguarded shoulder, she adjusted before he could do it again.

Roy struck lightly toward her left. She blocked.

He changed direction. Donaldina ducked beneath the blade and tapped him across the ribs.

The MacIver men at the edge of the yard became very silent. Roy slowly looked toward them. Every face turned elsewhere.

Donaldina’s laugh reached him, bright and startled, as though the sound managed to escape before she could decide whether dignity permitted it.

Roy looked back at her. He heard her speak with anger, grief, and command. He heard her voice cut through a crowded hall until men twice her size obeyed. He heard her scream upon the cliff path and call his name with blood upon her sleeve.

He had never heard her laugh that way before. The sound reached a hidden, guarded part of him and lingered as if it belonged there.

“Did I injure yer pride?” she asked.

“Me pride has survived more formidable opponents.”

“Yet nae, apparently, without scars.”

Roy lifted his sword. “Again.”