Page 47 of Bound By Deception

Some enforcers sparred, stripped to the waist, their brawny torsos gleaming, while others sharpened their weapons on whetstones as they looked on. Like her husband, they were all heavily tattooed, their hair cropped short against their scalps.

And the moment Bree appeared, their gazes speared her.

Predatory. Assessing.

Bree’s step slowed, her pulse thudding in her ears.

“Clear the yard,” the chief-enforcer barked.

And to her surprise, they went quietly, although not without smirks and sharp looks at Bree.

“Is this wise?” Bree asked, frowning. “Surely, you don’t want your men gossiping about your wife?”

“Too late for that,” mac Brochan replied, turning to her. He then removed the heavy knife belt he wore across his chest, and the blades strapped to his hips and thighs, before tossing them to one side. “The servants who witnessed the fight will have already told half the residents of the broch. By this evening, even the fort’s shit-shoveler will have heard.”

Bree flinched. He wasn’t likely wrong about that. She then lowered her gaze, feigning reticence even as her gut clenched. “I don’t want to do this,” she murmured. That was a lie. She longed to give this prick a beating he’d never forget. Frustration hammered within her. How she wished she could shift back into her Shee form. Even then, mac Brochan wouldn’t be an easy opponent. Nonetheless, it would be a fairer fight.

The chief-enforcer snorted, and she raised her gaze to see that he’d lowered himself into a fighting stance. “Come on, wife.” The goading edge to his voice made violence surge within her. “Imagine you hate me.”

Bree set her jaw.That shouldn’t be too hard.

Shifting back from him, she mimicked the same pose. Back in Sheehallion, she’d trained every day, even while she was hunting her next mark. She’d missed pushing her body.

They were alone in the yard now, the warm sun on their heads.

The back of her neck prickled then. Of course, many of the enforcers would be watching from the shadows. They wanted to see her thrashed.

“So, you want to humiliate me?” she asked, as they slowly began to circle each other.

He shrugged. “I want to learn more about the woman I married … a woman with secrets.”

Bree snorted. “You’ve had plenty of opportunity to get to know me,” she shot back. “But I’m usually beneath your notice.”

His dark brows knitted together, and Bree almost smiled. She had him there, and they both knew it.

He lunged then, catching her off guard. His fist drove straight for her face, yet Bree ducked, her left hand snapping up and catching his wrist, while her right hand curled into a fist and punched toward his throat.

Mac Brochan jerked his head back, just missing having his windpipe crushed.

They sprang apart and circled each other once more.

But this time, the mood had changed.

Tension shivered through the warm air. Bree’s blood started to roar in her ears.

What are you doing?Her pride made her want to fight him properly, to unleash herself on him, but to do so would be idiotic. Aye, she’d woven a lie about learning fighting skills at the House of Maids, but she still wouldn’t have the same level of skill as a warrior-druid who’d spent many years training.

As much as it galled her, she had to let him have an easy victory, while at the same making it look credible.

And so, Bree forced herself to go on the defensive. Instead of aiming for his throat again, she focused on deflecting his blows.

The bastard was fast though. His knuckles grazed her jaw and glanced off her ribs. Both places stung, and the pain shocked her a little. Pain in this body was different, sharper and rawer. She could almost feel the bruises forming.

Again and again, she dodged, ducked, and side-stepped. Sweat slid down her back, while mac Brochan’s eyes now burned into her.

“Fight me,” he growled as he struck once more.

Iron bite her, how she wanted to. How she wanted to crush his nose with her fist and blacken both his eyes while she was at it. How she longed to smash his pretty face to a pulp.

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