Page 21 of Healing the Highland Sinner
“Ciar has been tryin’. Daesnae seem tae be takin’.”
“I’m sure there are many things Ciar does well. I dinnae get the feelin’ that teachin’ is one of them,” Ellair said with a chuckle.
“He isnae the most patient man in the world,” she admitted.
Ellair grinned as he squatted down and picked out a pair of wooden daggers. He stood and walked over to where she stoodand handed her one. She ran her fingers over the smooth, dark wood then looked up, a curious expression on her face.
“Where did ye find all these?” she asked.
“I’m a resourceful man. I can usually figure out where tae find what I need.”
“Been plannin’ this fer a while, eh?”
“Aye. Fer a bit.”
“Why now?”
“I had tae wait until ye trusted me a bit more,” he said. “Plus, things seem tae be gettin’ dicier. Every time we go and meet with yer merchants and the other bosses in town, I see more dark looks. I hear more whispers. It’s likely only a matter of time before somebody decides tae be bold enough tae come fer ye. I want ye tae be prepared fer it.”
That was part of it. The part he wouldn’t admit to her was that as they’d grown closer over the past few weeks, the thought of her being wounded, or worse, had begun to tear at him. The closer he felt to her, the more unbearable the thought of something happening to her became. Just thinking about it sent a sharp lance of pain through his heart. He didn’t understand why that was, but the only way he could move past it was to help prepare her for what might come. Ready her to fight.
“All right,” he said. “Take a fightin’ stance.”
He watched as she crouched at the knees, feet spread apart to lower her center of gravity, the dagger in her dominant hand, her other hand out to keep her balanced. He nodded.
“Nae bad,” he said. “Yer posture is good.”
She smiled, seemingly pleased with herself.
“But the way ye’re holdin’ that dagger is garbage,” he said.
“It is nae,” she said.
“Nay?”
She shook her head. “Nay.”
“Come at me then. Try tae stab me.”
She rushed at him, the dagger in her right hand. Ellair had to keep himself from laughing, but as she closed in, he slapped her hand hard, sending the wooden dagger flying. She stopped in her tracks and turned, watching her blade tumbling end over end before it landed in the dirt five feet away from her with a hard thud.
“Bleedin’ hell,” she muttered.
Ellair flashed her a smile then walked over and picked up her dagger and brought it back to her. She took it from him with a frown then rubbed her wrist.
“That hurt,” she said.
“Believe me, that didnae hurt near as much as a blade in the guts would hurt.”
“Fair enough,” she said with a wry twist of her lips.
“All right, now let’s work on yer stance and grip.”
He stepped behind her and moved her feet and hands into a proper fighting position. As he moved her body into the position he wanted, Ellair was keenly aware of the floral scent in her hair and on her skin. It was subtle but heady and he was having a hard time focusing. With her scent filling his nose, he also felt the heat of her body. It radiated from her and seeped into him, warming him from the outside in.
He cleared his throat as he took her hand and positioned it to give her the right grip. Her skin was soft and smooth. It felt like his fingers were sliding across silk, soft and supple. The feel of her flesh—her body—pressed so closely to his sent waves of desire flowing through his veins. He felt the pressure building up low inside of him as his arousal stirred, and he knew if he did not step away from her, she was going to feel just how much it was being stirred.
He moved away from her, albeit reluctantly, then stood in front of her. Ellair ran a hand over his face and took a moment, ostensibly assessing her form when in reality, he was biting the inside of his cheek hard enough he tasted his own blood, while giving himself a few beats to quell the flames burning inside of him.
