Page 116 of Laird of Steel
Still somewhat reluctant to engage her, he came at her with a slow and straightforward blow, one that was easy to turn aside.
She shook her head in disappointment. Then, distracting him with a flourish of her free hand, she thrust forward into the space between his flank and his arm. An inch to the left, and she would have thrust him through. Fortunately for Brand, her goal wasn’t to kill him. Just to wake him up.
He was alert now. Realizing she was a serious opponent, he reset his position and braced himself for real battle.
This time when he attacked, Merraid noticed something familiar in his fighting style. The way he gripped his sword. How he lunged and thrust. The pattern of assault he used. He’d obviously learned from his older brother. Which did nothing to take her mind off of Gellir. But also made Brand somewhat predictable.
She easily tossed away his first thrust.
Glowering, he cast aside her subsequent lunge.
Then he attempted a knee-high sweep, which she foiled by jumping over his blade.
She quickly returned with another scratch to his hauberk, parallel to the first.
Muttering an oath under his breath at his scarred leather, he sliced once through the air and then made a rapid X strike.
“Ye learned that trick from Gellir,” she remarked as she handily deflected the blows with the edge of her blade.
“And that’s Feiyan’s defense,” he retorted.
“I learned from the best.”
“You don’t know her mother,” he grumbled. “Or her mother’s teacher.”
His mention of the infamous Warrior Maids of Rivenloch suddenly made Merraid’s enthusiasm for their match disappear. She would rather hear more about what it was like to grow up at Rivenloch. So to put a quick end to the fight, she launched a rapid figure eight attack until he was backed against the tiltyard fence with nowhere to go.
Pressing the sharp tip of herjianagainst his throat, she came close to him and murmured, “Shall we stop before too many witnesses gather, m’laird?”
He growled and quickly scanned the practice yard. Pride convinced him he’d ruin his reputation by repeatedly losing to a maidservant. So he gave her a brusque nod. “As you wish.”
She didn’t move her sword. “I have one condition for your surrender.”
His brows slammed together. “Surrender?” he bit out.
“Fine,” she said, wondering how such a bigoted man could have grown up in a clan full of warrior maids. “We’ll call it our mutual decision to discontinue. But I still have a condition.”
“I won’t do your chores like Gellir,” he said with a frown, obviously having heard of his brother’s penance. “And I won’t be your pet. If you mean to make a fool of me, I’d rather have my throat slit.”
She rolled her eyes. What she’d heard about Brand’s hostility toward women hadn’t been an exaggeration. He didn’t exactly despise them. He just had little use or patience for them.
“Don’t worry, m’laird,” she said with a smirk. “I won’t make ye wear my dress or coo like a dove.”
He looked aghast.
She withdrew her weapon and slid it into its sheath. “I only wish to hear what ’twas like at Rivenloch, growin’ up in a clan o’ warrior maids with Gellir for an older brother.”
Brand was visibly relieved. Still, he sighed as he put away his sword and leaned against the fence. “There’s not much to tell,” he said, staring across the field. “Rivenloch is on the English border, so we’ve always been a warrior clan.”
“But your mother is the laird,” she said in awe. “She leads the clan and commands the warriors.”
He shrugged.
“And the Warrior Maids o’ Rivenloch… They’re legendary.”
His jaw tensed. “Och aye, I suppose.”
“I grew up on tales o’ their bravery. Everyone’s heard o’ them and—”
