you used to best me but a month ago. Declare it, by God, or forfeit the need to shave for a week.”
The Wolf laughed. “A fair win, you black-robed bastard! Now heave off me, and give a shout for ale, else we both die of thirst before we have a chance to celebrate properly.”
Coughing with laughter and the effects of their strenuous bout, Friar collapsed beside him on the scuffed earth. The Wolf was grinning with genuine pleasure, for he was not one to grudge a man his due, and Friar had indeed come a long way from being the soft-eyed, soft-voiced acolyte he had rescued from a death cell seven years ago.
He was still grinning when he stood up and started smacking the dust from his shirt and leggings. A round of good-natured bickering between Mutter and Stutter drew his gaze to the old yew again and, after a brief moment of debate, he walked over, noting the care Servanne took to studiously ignore his approach.
“I trust you regained the coppers you lost last week,” he said to Mutter, surprising and pleasing the twin into squirming himself into a state of deep crimson. The Wolf was one of the few who could tell the twins apart at a glance, although how he did so was anyone’s guess. This unfathomable ability was what had once saved the brothers from being impaled and burned as demons—which had, in turn, made them loyal to their mentor to their last breath.
The Wolf looked at Servanne. “And you, my lady: I trust you were not overly bored by our practicing.”
“I … was … much impressed by Friar’s skill,” she said hesitantly, unable to quite lift her eyes above the heady view of his bared torso.
The Wolf glanced down and casually thumbed the severed thongs.
“A hair less skill,” he agreed with a crooked grin, “and I warrant I would be sporting a fine new red stripe.”
Servanne’s flush darkened to the point of discomfort, for now his scent had surrounded her and threatened to engulf her. The rich, pungent musk of well-spent sweat swamped her senses, prompting every movement, every gesture he made to result in a shower of hot, silvery sparks slithering down her spine.
“I … fail to understand why either of you would risk life and limb in such a … a meaningless display of male rivalry. Especially if, as you would have me believe, there are far weightier matters to be decided by blood and by sword.”
The Wolf lowered his hands slowly, ignoring the salty moisture that continued to roll down his temples and cheeks. Her eyes commanded all of his attention … and his interest. He was as conscious of her delicate state of arousal as if he were inside her body sharing it, and its discovery intrigued him.
“In truth,” he murmured, “Alaric and I have practiced some moves that are deliberately intended to look more dangerous than they are. It … inspires confidence in the men.”
Her gaze inched a tiny measure higher, stalled again by the broad column of his neck. “Alaric?”
“Friar … Alaric,” he said by way of an explanation. “He of the horsehair robes and wood-soled sandals.”
Servanne’s eyes fled downward to where her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, surrounded by a shredded bed of straw. It felt like the fine hairs at the nape of her neck were being similarly shredded; his nearness was playing havoc with her determination not to succumb to any more curiosities about the man—an impossible resolution, as well she knew it. She could look neither right nor left, not up nor down without feeling the seductive pull of his virility.
“I should think it would be a sacrilege to assume the guise of a priest of the Holy Order.”
A dark brow arched. “We all of us commit small sacrileges at one time or another. Alaric’s is no lesser and no greater than most.”
“Why did he not complete his vows?”
“He lost his love for the church.”
“It could not have been a very strong love to begin with.”
“It was a good deal stronger than mine.”
“You can say that, having nearly lost your life on Crusade?”
“My reasons for taking up the cross were far from holy. Nor was it God’s wrath that challenged me on the deserts of Palestine.”
“Still,” she sighed, “I have seen you join your men in prayer each Matin.”
A small grin betrayed more than his amusement. “It also inspires confidence in the men.”
The Wolf was finding it difficult to keep his eyes from