Page 17 of The Chief's Wild Promise
Her hand strayed to the hilt of her dirk. “Just try.”
His gaze glinted. “Is that a challenge?”
“Aye.”
His eyes widened for a heartbeat, and then, to her surprise, he barked out a laugh. “I’m not fighting ye again.”
Makenna inclined her head, even as the urge to wipe that condescending look off his face pounded through her. “Afraid, are ye?”
He stilled then, his gaze narrowing. “No.”
“Liar.”
What are ye doing?A shrill voice intruded then.Are ye trying to make him yer enemy?She’d never dared goad a man so. It was foolhardy, yet she’d passed the point of no return now. Something had ruptured within her. She couldn’t keep her anger, disappointment, and frustration leashed any longer.
Mackinnon made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded very much like a growl.
Unintimidated, she continued to stare him down. “Go on then. Teach me some manners.”
Something feral flared in his eyes at this, and in response, a strange, fluttery sensation awoke in her belly. It was both exciting and unsettling, although she quickly pushed it aside.
Mackinnon stepped back then. Her gaze tracked him as he took off his dirk-belt and tossed it aside. “Very well … I shall.”
8: SMOKE AND STEEL
UNBUCKLING HER OWN dirk-belt, Makenna set the weapon down upon the moss-covered stone where she’d been seated. As she did so, she was aware of the pounding of her pulse in her ears.
They were going to do this.
Makenna didn’t doubt her abilities; however, fighting the man she was to marry soon wasn’t the cleverest idea she’d ever had. Nonetheless, the hunger to put him in his place sang in her blood now, and there was no ignoring it.
She’d learned from the best. Captain Walker and the other experienced members of the Meggernie Guard first, and then Alec Rankin. Finally, Tormod MacDougall—a warrior at Dounarwyse, and the most skilled of them all—had trained with her the previous summer. These days, she preferred not to think about MacDougall. He’d been dangerous, yet, eager to learn from him, she’d trained with the warrior often.
Until the day he tried to rape her.
Shoving aside the memories, which still chilled her blood, Makenna moved away from the bank of the burn to a space in between the waterway and the edge of the encircling beeches. Here, the ground was spongy with moss, with no brambles, rotting branches, or rocks to harm themselves on. It was the ideal spot for a fight.
Mackinnon was rolling up his sleeves now, revealing toned forearms dusted with red hair. The man was lithe—a similar build to Tormod MacDougall. Such men were quick on their feet. Even though she was strong for a woman, her muscles honed by hours of training with the Guard, Makenna knew she’d never best even the smallest of men in strength.
No, it was her speed, skill, and cunning she’d rely on now.
And luckily, both Rankin and MacDougall had taught her several tricks.
Judging from the way her betrothed’s gaze glittered, she’d need them.
“Ready?” She let her arms hang loosely at her sides and moved her legs apart, bending them slightly at the knee.
Mackinnon nodded, and they began to circle each other, each taking their opponent’s measure.
He favors his left hand.
Aye, she recalled that from knocking elbows with him at supper the eve before. That made him trickier to fight, for she was used to fighting those who, like her, were stronger with their right.
His gaze held a calculating light now, his movements smooth and supple.
A frisson of danger skated down Makenna’s spine, honing her already sharp senses further.They both knew the only reason she’d bested him so easily the day before was because he’d tripped on a tree root. Before that moment, she’d been impressed by his skill. She’d never admit that though.
She waited for him to attack, impatience curling within her when he didn’t. He wanted her to make the first move. Despite the predatory way he was watching her, she sensed his hesitation.