Page 25 of Storm of Fury
“You think I need to disarm you with these?” She pointed to her breasts.
“I think you fight dirty, woman. And you will stoop to nothing to bring a man to his knees.”
A hint of a smile touched her lips. Bryn lifted the leather gauntlet on her left hand and cooed at the merlin that rested atop it. “Oh Sýr, this fool thinks I need to disarm him in order to beat him.”
“Greater men have tried to disarm me and failed. Stop stalling, woman. We’re due to leave as soon as Haakon returns from his morning run, and he has the appalling tendency to complete five miles in just over half an hour. It’s sickening.”
“The only time I run is when something monstrous is chasing me. And even then, I’d prefer to fight it.”
“A woman after my own heart.”
“Merely a woman who knows her leather corset isn’tthatgood at defying gravity.”
His gaze strayed to her breasts.Fair enough. “Now I know you’re definitely trying to distract me.”
She tossed a tidbit to the merlin—he didn’t want to know precisely what it was but he could see a flash of fur—and then lifted her wrist. The merlin flung itself into the air and then soared into the trees, its banded wingspan almost as wide as his arm was long. Bryn drew her sword with a dangerous smile. “Be on your guard then. Or what little guard you have. Your defenses are shit.”
“Ah, love, you’ve got the sweetest mouth I’ve ever heard.” Tormund grinned, drawing his axe and slipping his arm through the loop on the small shield he sometimes carried. “If you can get past my shield, I’ll concede.”
Bryn circled him. “Concede what?”
“That you are the greater warrior.”
“Oh, no,” she told him. “I already know that. If I win, then I want more.”
Interesting. “What did you have in mind?”
Her eyes narrowed on him, but he pointed the axe at her. “Not the beard. The beard stays.”
Bryn’s answering smile was completely wolfish. “You should never tell me your weaknesses. Now I know exactly where to strike.”
She suddenly swung the sword at him, and Tormund met it with a clash of the shield. Steel shrieked on steel, and then Bryn backed away with a devilish twinkle in her eyes.
She really was excited to do this.
An odd way of courting, but oh well….
“Is it going to burst into flame again?” he asked.
“Why? Scared of fire, big man?”
“No.” He hefted his axe. “But I happen to quite like my beard, and I’m starting to wonder whether you do.”
It startled a laugh from her. “I hate beards. But yours is safe.”
“Hatebeards?” he demanded in mock horror. “I thought you a sane woman.”
“They’re prickly, and they itch.” As soon as she said the words, he saw her eyes widen as if she realized the trap she’d just walked into.
“Were you planning on getting amorous with my beard?”
“I am planning nothing with your beard. Your beard looks like the backside of a bear.”
“I think you’re thinking about my beard a lot,” he told her. “You’ve brought it up again.”
“I didn’t bring it up! You—”
“All I mentioned was my fondness for it. You’re the one who took it beyond a mention.”
