Highland Escape - Cathy MacRae Page 0,39

couldn’t lure him into attacking. Each time she offered him an opening, he refused, keeping a high guard and an annoying smirk on his face. Fine. She pushed a bit more to see if he could do more than hold a sword aloft. Unexpectedly, he attacked as she started another advance.

Caught slightly off-balance, she recovered in time to parry his blow. The clang of steel on steel broke the silence of the small meadow. Anna whirled to his side, seeking an angle to attack from. No such luck. He anticipated her move, blocking her strike.

So there is more to his ability than the consistent guard he offers.

Stepping in with another strike, she quickly abandoned it and sought the other side. To her chagrin, he anticipated and countered her again. Blast! Did she give away her intent somehow? Realization hit. He’d watched her practice for some time before joining her. He knew she did not favor straight-line attacks, preferring angles, thus avoiding a direct blow she would be hard-pressed to block because of her disadvantage in strength.

A twisted smile settled on her lips. Time to employ techniques she’d yet to demonstrate. Staggering to the left then right with feints, Anna dropped to the ground, rolling past Duncan on his left, popping up slightly behind him. Before he could pull his guard around to defend her unexpected maneuver, she struck him on the back of the leg above the knee with one sword and at the lower back with the second, turning her blades at the last moment, hitting with the flat rather than the edge.

Duncan dropped to his knees as if the blows had been struck properly, surprised she bested him this round. He faced her as he rose. Anna’s smug grin reminded him much of a cat in the cream. Her green eyes sparkled with delight, her chest heaved with breathlessness, her face flushed with exertion. He doubted there had ever been a more beautiful creature on God’s earth.

He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss her into oblivion.

She must be mine! The thought was so powerful, it echoed in his bones. The hunter in him knew this to be one small step toward his goal. He mustn’t let his passion spoil the hunt.

“Again, my lord?” she teased with a toss of her head. She could afford to be playful, having scored first. Chuckling at her taunt, he reset.

They continued until both were spent. Neither could remember who bested overall, though ’twas close. He tossed her his water skin. She tipped the container upward, showing the smooth skin of her throat. The long, thin scar on her neck danced as she drank deeply. Watching her do something as simple as drink stirred his desire. He fought back the vision of having her beneath him, moving as they struggled together to quench a different thirst.

She tossed his water skin back. “My thanks.”

He congratulated his good sense in proposing they conduct their training away from the eyes of his kinsmen. He would hardly live down being defeated, even one round, by a woman. Though he wouldn’t mind if he were defeated occasionally by his woman. A feeling of pride swelled in his chest as he considered the possibility. Perhaps after a few more sessions, he’d bring her to train with his men, and let them see for themselves how well the lass fought.

Those who rode with him to fetch Nessa had already seen her in action twice. Upon consideration, the thought of sharing her in any setting brought forth a feral urge to hide her from those who might catch her eye.

He offered her reins. “To the keep, milady?”

She flashed a smile, striking him as breathless as the strongest whisky.

“As you wish, sir knight.”

Neither spoke on the short ride back. Duncan thought about his duties for the day, but his attention kept coming back to the lass next to him. To have a woman so strong, beautiful and learned in healing would be quite a treasure. To include fighting skills to rival his own would be a boon, indeed. A niggling of doubt in his mind made him pause and consider.

Would she find me as dear a prize? He allowed the thought further rein. What would Anna seek in a man?

Strength, no doubt. Protection? She clearly believed she could protect herself, continually bucking against the idea she needed such from a man—from him. Her headstrong self-reliance continued to be a source of vexation. She didn’t appear to