Page 30 of Bound to a Scot
“Perhaps it shouldnae be strictly a man’s game,” she replied.
“Aye. Perhaps nae. And ye’re good with a blade, I can see that. Ye’ve got skill. Lorn has taught ye well,” he said. “But watchin’ a woman with a blade in her hand is like watchin’ a dog walk on its hind legs. It just doesnae look right.”
He laughed, meaning it to be a lighthearted jest, but he could see by the looks on their faces, the joke did not land as intended. The large man scowled at him.
“Hold yer tongue, Laird MacLachlan,” Lorn said. “Or I’ll happily remove it.”
One of Maddox’s eyebrows arched as a vicious smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Think ye can best me, dae ye?”
“I’m nae the war leader fer nothin’,” he said, his tone harder than iron.
“Maddox, I’d appreciate if ye’d leave me tae me lessons,” Emmeline said. “I’d like tae finish them before Burchard returns.”
He didn’t hear her though. All he could hear was the ring of her laughter as she walked down the corridor with Lorn. All he could see was the way she looked at him—with an affection Maddox found himself craving. And as he looked at them standing together now, the needle of jealousy piercing his heart seemed to jam in even deeper. He turned a baleful gaze on the man.
“If ye think ye can remove me tongue, ye’re welcome tae come try,” Maddox said.
Lorn grinned fiendishly, clearly spoiling for a fight every bit as much as Maddox was. The man stepped forward, never taking his gaze off him.
“Wood or steel?” he asked.
“Steel,” he replied. “Wood is fer bairns.”
“Good answer.”
Emmeline threw her hands up and let out a frustrated growl followed by a string of curses so blue, Maddox laughed. He was surprised she knew such filth. But he quickly turned back to Lorn who tossed him a steel practice blade. The edges had been blunted to prevent anybody from being killed, but a man who knew what they were doing could still do some damage.
Blades up and at the ready, the two men circled each other, taking one another’s measure. It was Lorn who waded in first with a dizzying series of hacks and slashes. Maddox parried them all with ease as he spun to the right, casually swinging the flat of his blade behind him, catching Lorn with a hard thump across his backside. The man turned, his face red, a sneer on his lips.
“That’s a point fer me, I believe,” Maddox said, rubbing it in deeper.
With a guttural growl, Lorn waded back in, hacking and slashing, his movements fluid and precise. Such was the fury of the war leader’s onslaught, that if Maddox hadn’t been well trained himself, the bigger man very well could have cut straight through him, blunted blades or not. Seeing the rage in Lorn triggered a similar response in Maddox. The fury in his breastblossomed brightly and he counterattacked with absolute rage fueling his movements.
The ring of steel on steel echoed around the courtyard as the two men hacked and slashed at each other with the fury of a heated battle. Lorn was exceptional with a blade, Maddox had to grudgingly admit, and he’d very nearly taken his head off a couple of times already. But he had been giving as well as he’d gotten and the man’s face was red, strained, and sheathed in sweat. Maddox was sure he looked the same and his lungs burned with the strain of the fight.
He was giving thought to calling the duel a draw when Lorn made a mistake. He lunged with what could have been a killing blow had Maddox not parried it aside. Lorn was left reaching, leaving himself exposed, and Maddox wasted no time seizing the advantage, driving his elbow into the man’s face. The sound of the bigger man’s nose crunching beneath the force of the blow brought a wicked smirk to his face.
Grunting in pain, Lorn staggered backward, clapping his hand to his nose as thick crimson rivulets streamed down his face. His eyes narrowed and his face red, the war leader threw his blade to the dirt and grabbed a cloth from a nearby rack, pressing it to his face. A triumphant smile on his face, Maddox stepped forward to magnanimously shake his fallen foe’s hand. But Emmeline got to the injured man first, dipping a rag into a bucket of water and tenderly washing away the streams of blood that coated the lower half of the man’s face.
Emmeline rounded on Maddox, her face dark and twisted with anger. “What in the bleedin’ hell is wrong with ye actin’ like a bairn out here.”
“We were sparrin’. I didnae mean tae hurt him. But these things happen?—”
“Shut it. Just shut yer bleedin’ mouth,” she shouted. “I dinnae want tae hear ye. In fact, I dinnae want tae see ye anymore. Get out of me sight!”
A lump rose in his throat. “Emmeline?—”
“I told ye tae leave, Maddox,” she growled. “Get out of here. Now!”
Maddox opened his mouth to say something more but the withering glare on Emmeline’s face stayed his tongue. Frowning, he threw the blade onto the ground and turned to go. As he walked away, he couldn’t help but notice the gleam of triumph in Lorn’s eye. Maddox had to bite back the growl of rage that bubbled up in his throat as he realized he may have won the battle, but he’d lost the entire war.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Tilt yer head back,” Emmeline said.
Lorn did as she said, and she held the scarlet-stained cloth to his nose. A stubborn and proud man, Lorn tried to wave her off but she was not having it and slapped his hand away instead.
“Stop it,” he grunted.
