Page 62 of Desire's Ransom
Chapter 17
When Temair glanced up again, Mor and Ryland were looking at her. She pretended not to notice, crouching down beside the dogs to give their chests a good scrubbing. When she peered out over Flann’s back, the two were prattling away again.
She sighed in disgust. Bored with sticks and pine cones and the hounds in general, she decided she’d practice with herbata. After all, if war was coming, she’d best be prepared.
Cambeal had made a practice dummy out of wood. It had a straw-stuffed cloth head and held aloft a wooden sword and shield. Ronan had stitched Xs into the head for eyes, along with a downturned mouth, and added twigs at the top to make a comical thatch of hair.
She lugged the dummy from behind the mountain of rock into the clearing.
Bran and Flann ambled away to nap under the trees. They’d learned about the perils of getting too close to a swingingbataearly on.
The most important thing about fighting with thebatawas focus. Cambeal had drilled that into Temair, using every distraction possible to test her—from startling her with shouts to making young Fergus streak past naked. She’d learned to block out all outside influences and pay heed to her opponent alone.
She warmed up with a few lunges and, gripping thebata, stretched her arms up over her head, loosening her shoulders. Then, tossing her hair back, she faced the dummy.
Beyond the stuffed head, she could see Ryland was grinning over something Mor was telling him.
With a dismissive grunt, she started with thebataheld horizontally in front of her in both hands. She began alternating hands, releasing one and using the other to flick the stick forward, hitting the dummy on the sides, where its ribs would be.
Lady Mor had never learned to use thebata. She always claimed it was not a weapon for a lady. She said she preferred to use her womanly wiles.
It looked like she was using those wiles on Ryland. He seemed to be quite amused by whatever drivel she was feeding him.
Temair frowned and moved on to two hits on one side, one on the other. Cambeal had taught her that switching up rhythms made abatafighter unpredictable and hard to defend against.
That had certainly been the case when she’d fought with Ryland, she thought smugly. Even armed with a sword, he’d been unable to anticipate her moves.
Next she gripped thebatain both hands, swaying swiftly left and right with forward circles, hitting the dummy high and low, from shoulder to hip.
She wondered if Mor was clucking her tongue at Ryland now, exclaiming over how unladylike Gray was.
Temair shoved forward with full force against the dummy’s chest, and then let her hands slide together to deliver a hard wallop to the side of its neck.
She sniffed with satisfaction. Though Ryland didn’t realize it, she’d held back with him. A goodbatafighter could maim and even kill a man with a well-placed blow.
The sound of Mor’s high-pitched titters made Temair grind her teeth.
She poked forward with the end of thebata, jabbing the dummy hard in the stomach, finishing with a violent, two-fisted overhead hack that knocked the stuffed head right off of its wooden body.
It rolled across the ground, landing at Ryland’s feet.
Lady Mor gave a feminine gasp and clasped both hands to her bosom.
Temair felt her face go hot with embarrassment.
The expression on Ryland’s face, however, wasn’t one of ridicule, but of amusement and interest.
“Mind if I give it a try?” he asked with enthusiasm.
Temair blinked in surprise.
Mor made a choking sound. “Silly Gray. Why would Sir Ryland want to learn to fight with a stick when he’s got a big, long sword made o’ steel?”
There was no mistaking her insinuation. But Ryland either didn’t seem to notice or ignored it if he did.
“Do you have a spare weapon?” he asked.
“Aye.” There were several more in the cave.
