Highland Escape - Cathy MacRae Page 0,38
rope. What looked like a small red piece of cloth was tied to the base of the knife. Odd.
She started slowly, then swung the blade faster and faster. She twirled with it, wound the rope around her arms, back, legs; then, uncoiling the wraps, launched it toward a tree some fifteen feet away. He was taken aback by how deeply the blade pierced the wood. It didn’t take much imagination to envision what this weapon would do to a man, even armored.
Jerking the blade from the tree, she whipped it around again in one deft motion, twirling and dancing, shooting it out again. The red cloth made a whirring sound as it cut through the air, marking the point. Without the red to hold his eye, he’d have had a hard time tracking it. Sometimes she kicked it, firing it into the air, as to a lower target, changing the trajectory. She seemed to be able to let fly this weapon, high or low, in front or behind her at will and with accuracy. Duncan sat in wonder. He’d never witnessed the like before.
After a number of minutes, she coiled the rope around and under her belt, hiding the blade in the waistband of her trews.
Did she have this in her possession her entire captivity? The implication rocked him. What other weapons did she have hidden?
Next, she picked up the staff she’d carved the day before. Again she started slowly, as if to become familiar with the heft of the weapon. Soon she whirled, whipping the staff around in circular motions. Her movements were graceful, but to Duncan’s trained eye, generated a fair bit of power. Enough for a woman to defeat a man.
Leaping up and squatting low, she struck from all angles. Never before had he witnessed such maneuvers in combat. He’d trained as a warrior since old enough to hold a wooden sword. Sparring had always been conducted in a straightforward matter. Combat never held the grace or fluidity he observed with Anna.
She changed tactics, now treating the staff as a spear.
Her actions mesmerized him. After a longer interval with the staff, she paused and took a drink from her water skin. He thought of her words the day before, about not being able to go back to England, back to her home. He didn’t want her going anywhere. His plans certainly didn’t involve her languishing in some nobleman’s keep, bearing his brats. A wave of strong emotion rolled over him.
Jealousy?
Aye, nothing else could explain the surge of passion he’d experienced these past few days. He vowed to find a way to win her trust, her friendship. Then perhaps he’d have a chance at seduction. With the damage caused by initial distrust, he would have to move slowly. Slow suited him fine. He’d been taught to be a careful hunter, allowing his quarry to come to him. Though a more clever quarry than any he’d hunted before, ’twas hunting all the same.
After catching her breath, she drew her two curved short swords, and the deadly exercise began anew. The intricacies of her footwork, the angles she worked from, demonstrated a style of fighting Duncan had never encountered before. Certainly not English or Scots.
He remembered the two MacNairns she’d taken with ease by sword. He recalled her oblique movements. Unable to contain himself any longer, he rose and strode toward the field. In truth, he felt powerless to resist. Mayhap the blood of a leannan sith truly flowed through her veins. Nothing he had ever encountered pulled at him so. Especially not a lass.
“I wondered how long it would take before you mustered the courage to leave the shadows.” A wicked gleam danced in her eyes.
Of course she sensed his presence. A warrior always knows.
“I dinnae wish to disturb yer practice.” He smiled in return.
“So if not to disturb, participate then?”
He could not mistake her challenging tone. His crooked grin widened. “All I brought is a sword. I have no stave with me.”
Anna stepped away, circling him. “Swords it is.”
Duncan slowly drew his long sword. “I have yer word then, ye will spare my life if I yield?”
The wicked look returned to her eyes. “Mayhap.”
Laughing, Duncan took a high guard.
Anna circled, darting in and out of range, gauging his footwork, trying to bait a reaction. He did not oblige. Eventually, her feints became bolder, trying to draw Duncan into a committed strike, knowing he’d fought many battles and therefore wouldn’t be easily tricked into giving up his guard.
Damn. She