Page 8 of Healing the Highland Sinner
He cut a glance at the Widow, who stood off to the edge of the ring she and the men formed around them, observing him and her man Ciar. He couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. Stunning. She wore boots that came up to her knees and breeches that clung to her long, shapely legs. Her full, round breasts pressed the front of her tunic, adding to her feminine appeal. The woman was lean and willowy but had curves in all the right places and he was having a hard time taking his eyes off her.
The deep, rumbling growl of the man charging him snapped Ellair out of his head and he spun to the side, narrowly avoiding the butt of the hard wooden staff that split the air where his head had been just a moment before. Had he not moved, it surely would have shattered his nose. A soft laugh rang in his ears andwhen he glanced at the Widow, he saw her hiding a smile behind her black-gloved hand.
“Are ye ready lad? Ye didnae seem ready tae me. Did ye want me tae give ye a few minutes tae limber up and ready yerself? Maybe take a few practice swings with the staff?” Ciar taunted him.
With a snarl on his lips, Ellair launched himself at Ciar, spinning the staff in a dizzying whirl that took the big man by surprise. He drove the butt of his staff at the man’s head, making him duck to the right then followed that up by quickly reversing and swinging the other end of it at him. Ciar was caught off guard but managed to get his own staff up in time. The hard clack of their weapons banging together echoed around the alleyway.
Grinning to himself, Ciar danced a few steps out of reach. “All right then. Looks like we have a fight on our hands then?”
“Did ye need me tae give ye a few moments tae limber up?” Ellair sneered.
Laughter rippled around the small crowd of men watching the fight. The woman looked on, her face betraying her interest, and her full, red lips curled up at the corners. Ellair had to force himself to turn his eyes away. She was pulling his attention away from the man he was battling, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted.
The man rushed at him again and Ellair let him get close then. Rather than defend against that though, as Ciar had anticipated,Ellair dropped to a knee and drove the butt of his staff into the man’s midsection.
His eyes wide and his lips forming a perfect “O,” Ciar staggered backward with a loud “ooph” as the air was driven from his lungs. Ellair glanced at the Widow and saw she was nodding approvingly to herself. Feeling emboldened, Ellair pressed his advantage and closed the distance between him and Ciar.
“Are ye ready, lad?” Ciar sneered. “Or dae ye want tae yield tae me now?”
“Yield? Because ye got a lucky shot in? Ye must be jestin’.”
His comment drew jeers and snickers from the Widow’s men and seemed to amuse Ciar. Ellair tightened his grip on the staff and tried to keep from wincing too noticeably when he clenched his jaw. No need to give Ciar another laugh at his expense.
His cheeks burned and his stomach clenched painfully. If they wanted a show, Ellair was going to give them one. He darted in, feinting to the left and caught Ciar leaning that way to defend. He immediately came back around to the right though, and with a two-handed grip on the staff, delivered a wicked blow to the man’s ribs.
Ciar grunted in pain and staggered to the side, clutching his wounded ribs and glared at him balefully. He blew out a breath, sounding like a bull before it charged, his eyes narrowed and burning with rage. He raised his staff and pointed it at Ellair.
His staff whirling dizzyingly, Ellair was having a hard time keeping up with him. But he managed to parry and deflect every thrust and swipe, keeping the man from scoring a hit. Ciar was breathing hard, his face red and slicked with a thin sheen of sweat. Ellair wasn’t even winded. He grinned and tipped him a wink.
“Bleedin’ idiot,” Ciar grumbled.
“Did ye want tae take a break, big man?” Ellair teased. “Did ye want tae get some water or maybe sit down and catch yer breath then?”
He could tell Ciar was growing tired and more frustrated at the same time. So, Ellair kept dancing, content to defend and block everything the man threw at him.
As he turned another blow aside, Ellair laughed. He darted in and smacked Ciar on the backside, drawing an outraged yelp from him. The big man rounded on him, his face red and eyes narrowed with rage. Ellair laughed harder. The grin on his face evaporated quickly though, when he hit a slimy puddle and his foot slipped out from beneath him.
Ciar closed on him, his staff held above his head like a club. Ellair knew if he brought it down on him, it was going to hurt. Before he had the chance to, Ellair drove his staff upward with as much force as he could muster, the blunt end of it catching Ciar square in the groin. The big man’s eyes widened, and his face turned green as a low grunt burst from his mouth. His staffhit the cobblestones with a loud clatter and Ciar dropped to his knees, clutching his injured groin.
As Ellair got to his feet, he noticed the alley around him was silent. All the Widow’s men were staring at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, disbelief on all their faces. Ellair put the butt end of his staff against Ciar’s throat and glared down at him triumphantly.
“Dae ye yield, lad?” he asked.
A gurgling, pained grunt passed his lips. Ellair pressed the staff against this throat harder.
“I didnae hear ye? Dae ye yield?”
“Yield,” he croaked, looking as if he might throw up from the pain.
Ellair laughed then held his hand out. Ciar looked at it hatefully for a moment but then his expression softened. He took Ellair’s outstretched hand and let him help him up. As Ciar doubled over with his hands on his knees, Ellair patted him on the back.
“Well fought,” he said. “I thought ye were goin’ tae have me a couple of times there.”
“’Twas a cheap shot,” Ciar croaked.
“Aye. ‘Twas,” he replied. “But combat is never all that clean and honorable, eh?”
Ciar turned his face to him and grinned. “Nay. I suppose it’s nae.”
