Page 46 of My Warrior
“So I see,” he said, gesturing to the air around them. “Your foe seems to have fled.”
“Icandefend myself.”
He stared at her. Someone had obviously disillusioned Cambria about her abilities. She was overconfident, a dangerous thing in a knight. She needed a lesson in humility.
“Come, warrior wife. I’ll make you a wager,” he said.
She eyed him warily.
He tossed his sword to the ground. Then he pulled out a small dagger from his belt. “I’ll wager you cannot defend yourself against me.”
“Against that?”
He nodded.
She looked him over. “You have no armor, no shield.”
“Even so,” he said with a bow.
She pursed her lips, but her eyes flickered eagerly.
“Come,” he beckoned. “I’ll give you three chances. I’ll wager you…a kiss. If I win, you must give me a kiss.”
Cambria smirked. “And if I win?”
His lip curved up. “You won’t.”
Cambria’s brow clouded with spite. “If I win, I never have to kiss you again.”
He shrugged. “All right. Done.”
Cambria planted her feet wide, the sword poised before her. Swiftly, with good balance and aim, she came at him. But she let her shield dip, and he used that advantage to dodge the blow and move in close, ending with the point of his dagger at her throat.
“That’s one,” he told her.
Cambria flinched in embarrassment. How the devil had he seized the advantage so swiftly? Perhaps it was only luck. She backed angrily away from him.
“You’d do better to simply defend yourself,” he suggested. “A bad temper is your worst enemy. Losing control of it is a mistake common to novices.”
That infuriated her. How dare he call her a novice? She’d held sword in hand from the age of five. She’d show this cocky knight the extent of her abilities. Her speed and agility had always amazed her father. She knew if she could slip under his arm unexpectedly, she could catch him unguarded. She swept up her sword and flexed her knees in preparation.
Holden drew her attack with a threatening jab. She feigned with her shield and came from beneath with her sword, a move that usually surprised her opponents. But he took no apparent notice. His dagger flitted about her like an angry wasp deciding where to sting. She swatted at it a dozen times, but never made contact. Vexed, she lowered her shield and swung recklessly at his head.
One hard blow from the haft of his dagger knocked the sword from her grasp. He crossed his blade against her neck.
“Two,” he whispered.
Cambria was fuming now. How could she lose to a man armed with only a dagger? She retrieved her sword and braced herself again. “Come,” she snarled. “Come!”
Holden shook his head, but raised the dagger again. She waited for him to make the first move. When he did, it was so sudden she had no time to raise her shield. The dagger teased the hem of her tabard, then the buckle of her belt, then the locks of her hair, threatening every part of her.
“Use your shield!” he commanded.
His criticism infuriated her. She began slicing wildly at him, but to her frustration, not a single stroke landed on anything save the empty air.
Then, to add insult, the rogue tossed the dagger to his left hand, fending off her attack with the dexterity of a juggler.
Holden could have continued, but he was eager for his prize. He unleashed a greater measure of his power, pummeling her from all sides with the flat of the blade. While she was distracted, he wrenched the sword from her with one easy movement, and then tore her shield away with a second pass.
