My Seductive Highlander (11 page)

“Holy shit,” Vivienne said in a voice filled with such awe, there was no doubt the term was meant as the highest possible compliment.

Lilia turned and immediately forgot to breathe. “Holy shit” didn't begin to cover it.

The formfitting workout gear accentuated every lickable ripple of Graham's muscular body that his silk T-shirt and jeans had failed to properly display. The bright floodlights lighting the practice arena reflected off the material stretched tight across his wide chest. The electric glow shimmied down his laddered abs, gleaming across his bulging thighs and all the delicious bumps and grooves in between. Every move Graham made flexed in a sensual
come and getcha some of this
kind of way.

“This place has never seen a man like that.” Vivienne gently nudged her. “Close yer mouth, lovie. Ye've got a wee bit a drool runnin' down yer chin.”

Lilia slammed her jaws shut and swallowed hard.
Dammit.
She squirmed in place, painfully aware that her hardened nipples were dangerously close to slicing through her sports bra. She folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin as Graham and Angus came to a stop in front of them. “Are you ready?”

“More than ready, lass.” The twinkle in Graham's deep gray eyes left no doubt that he was in no way referring to swordplay. The tilt of his head, the way he leaned forward with a knowing smile—Graham was ready all right
.

“Uhm…yeah.” Lilia backed up a step and motioned toward a roped-off area without taking her folded arms away from her chest. “Vivienne and I have already stretched and warmed up. Why don't you and Angus demonstrate some of your techniques and then we'll pair up and try them out.”

Graham gallantly bowed then swaggered over to the dueling arena and stepped over the ropes. He tossed one of the practice swords to the side and motioned Angus forward with the other one. “I prefer one sword. A fine shield would pair well with it but I can make do without one.”

Awesome.
She'd been struggling with wielding a shield for ages. Maybe Graham could show her what she was doing wrong. Lilia held up a finger. “Hang on a minute.” Her pinging nipples would just have to get over themselves. She trotted over to the long, broad storage chest along the far wall and hefted up the heavy lid. She'd never quite been able to get down good moves with a sword and a shield. Maybe concentrating on what Graham could teach her would keep her mind off the other
moves
she felt certain Graham would be more than happy to share.

Lilia tucked four practice shields under one arm, let the lid to the storage chest drop, then hurried back to the roped-off mat. “These are a lot lighter than the ones used in competition but if you could show me what to do, I know I can adapt to the heavier model.”

“Aye, lass, come t'me.” Graham smiled, waving her forward while at the same time pointing for Angus to leave the ring. “I'll have ye handlin' a shield with ease in no time a'tall.”

Lilia stopped just outside the ropes, glancing first at retreating Angus then back to Graham. A disturbingly delicious mixture of
hell yes
and
oh shit
shifted her heart rate to pounding level as Graham held out his hand again and repeated, “Come t'me.”

“I meant you and Angus could show me.”
Dammit.
If her voice squeaked any higher, she'd sound just like that billion-dollar cartoon mouse. Lilia cleared her throat. This was ridiculous. She was the self-ordained queen of playing with fire and not getting burned. Emotions and trust stayed on lockdown—especially after making the mistake of trusting David to the point where he'd nearly financially destroyed her. Only Alberti and Vivienne could be trusted.
I don't make the same mistakes twice.
“Why don't you and Angus demonstrate?” There. That sounded much better.

“Och no, lass.” Graham's smile showed no mercy. He slowly moved forward as though stalking her. “Ye'll learn much better firsthand.”

Lilia flexed both hands and rolled her shoulders.
Fine. I can do this
. Time to engage cold, calculating ice princess and shut out the dangers of the emotional world. Besides—once she immersed herself into the physical strains of learning the battle, she'd be fine. Working out until she collapsed had saved her empathetic ass on more than one occasion.

Turning to Vivienne, she held up her right hand. “Sword.”

Vivienne lobbed the weapon across the broad expanse of floor as she'd done a thousand times during Highland competitions and medieval reenactments.

Lilia easily caught the sword, then slid between the ropes into the matted arena in one fluid movement. Straightening, she settled her footing, faced Graham, and nearly burst out laughing.

A mixed look of shock, disbelief, and open admiration filled the man's face. For some inexplicable reason, Graham's expression filled her with the warmest sense of
happy
she'd felt in quite some time. He admired her. Excitement released a wave of pleasant fluttering through her middle. She'd bet money if someone pressed their ear to her side, they'd swear she was purring. She looped her hand through the two leather straps in back of the shield and raised her sword. “I'm ready.”

Graham blinked as though struggling to awaken from a trance. “Nay. Yer no' ready.” He scrubbed his fingers through the dark reddish-gold mat of neatly cropped beard outlining his jaw as he approached her. He pulled the shield to one side, lifted her arm, and frowned down at the hand she'd latched through the straps. He tapped a finger against the inside of her forearm between the two loops of the shield. “Ye'll no' be able to properly shield yer body with a hold such as this and ye could verra well break the small of yer arm with the first good strike from the enemy.” He wobbled the shield back and forth, twisting her arm in the process. “When ye dinna have the one handle properly balanced in the center of the disc and covered by a weighted boss, it takes a great deal of strength to control the heft of the shield. Ye'll find yerself fighting the weapon rather than fighting yer foe.”

In one brief explanation, Graham had nailed down exactly why she hated using a shield. Lilia slid her arm out of the loops and tossed the practice disc to the hard arena floor outside the ring. She pointed at it then nodded to Alberti. “I know we can't have new shields before next weekend but maybe you could find some like Graham described and he can teach us all how to use them in time for the big meet later this fall.”

“Absolutely.” Alberti gathered up the practice shields and stacked them against the bleachers. “We'll donate these to the Beaver Scouts. I'm sure those innovative young lads will derive a good use for them.” He bent and retrieved an additional sword, then tossed it into the ring. “Now, let's see a bit of swordplay. We've a reputation to keep and you've got a title to defend.”

Lilia scooped up the second sword, rotating the weight of both weapons in her hands at a slow, familiar turn.
Now, this is more like it.
She turned and faced Graham. “Do you want another sword or are you okay with your one to my two?”

One of Graham's brows arched a bit higher, directly parallel with the lifted side of his moustache hiked above his patronizing grin. “Whate'er ye think, lassie.” His grin blossomed into a full-blown smirk. “Whate'er ye think.”

Good. You're underestimating this little blonde. Fatal mistake, handsome.
Lilia settled easily into sparring mode. More than one male competitor had lost to her with just such thinking. Ever so slowly, Lilia circled to the left each time Graham inched to the right.
Clockwise. Good. I like clockwise.

Keeping her knees bent and ready to spring at a moment's notice, Lilia kept her gaze locked on Graham's eyes. Most opponents telegraphed their moves with their eyes and Graham seemed to be no different.

He lunged forward, sword raised, a smug look on his face.

Lilia easily spun beneath his reach, then swatted his ass with the flat of her sword as she circled behind him and danced to the opposite side of the ring. Graham was holding back. If she wanted a good workout, she was going to have to get his ego engaged.

“God's beard, Graham. I canna believe ye let a wee slip of a lass smack yer arse for ye.” Angus clapped and crowed, then hopped to a higher level of seats in the bleachers. “The MacKenna shall hear of this, I grant ye that.”

Graham rolled his shoulders and resettled the sword in his right hand as he paced around the opposite corner of the ring. Ignoring Angus's catcalls, he started circling her again. This time the placating smile was gone—replaced by a steely, slightly perturbed look of determination.

Good. Now that I've got your attention—time to play.
Lilia charged forward, swords raised, a screeching battle cry ripping free of her throat as she bent her knees and lunged.

Graham's eyes flared wider. At the last possible minute, he lifted his sword and muscled down to deflect her attack.

Blades crossed around his, Lilia locked both arms and shifted her weight. With a hard, well-practiced turn of her wrists, she sent Graham's sword flying out of the ring. She tucked and rolled, twisted around, and whacked him across the ass again. “Come on, Graham. You're not even trying.”

“Yer as worrisome as a bitin' midge. I gi' ye that.” Nostrils flaring, Graham bared his teeth and dove across the mat after her.

Lilia scampered up the taut, rubbery ropes surrounding the ring and launched herself into an arc passing over his crouched form just as he reached her. Landing with a rolling handspring on the other side of the ring, she spun about with swords lifted and ready, waiting for Graham to turn. This was pathetically too easy.

“Bad form, Lilia.” Alberti brought his hands together with a sharp clap. “There'll be no ropes in the sword competition next week. You will refrain from using them to your advantage. That is not the behavior of a grand champion.”

Angus thumped excitedly up and down the bleachers, his piercing whistle splitting the air. “Let the lass be, lad. She's bestin' the man good and proper.”

Vivienne snuggled up against the ropes behind her, leaning in close so only Lilia could hear. “Give the poor man a wee break, ducks. Ye ken he canna help but hold himself in check against a woman. 'Tis the time he's from.” Vivienne winked and added, “And he's met yer grandmother. I'm sure she's scairt the livin' shit out of him.”

Well, there was that
. Lilia barely turned, peeping back at Graham, currently glowering in the far corner. He was passing his sword between his hands in an agitated swinging move. She really should show him a little bit of mercy. The memory of one of Granny's many lectures played across her mind.
A wise woman always knows when to allow her man to at least
think
he's won.
A warm knowing lightened her heart and bubbled through her soul. For the first time in her life, Lilia understood exactly what Granny meant. Time for a little male ego damage control.

Lilia stepped back to the center of the ring and settled her footing. “Alberti's right. I shouldn't have cheated and used the ropes.” She tossed her second sword out of the ring, crouched low, and lowered her chin in a solemn nod. “I'm sorry and it won't happen again.”

“And now ye think to treat me like a spoilt bairn who's greetin' about how the other lads bested him?” Graham flung his own sword out of the ring and strode two broad steps forward. Eyes narrowed and jaw set, his hands flexed open and closed as his approach slowed to an ominous, purposeful stalking.

“Well…” Lilia resettled her grip on her sword. She couldn't make this look too easy. He already suspected what she was up to. “You
are
pouting like a sore loser.” She risked circling a bit closer. “Show me what you've got. I'm not afraid.”

Graham didn't speak, didn't breathe, didn't even blink.

He's about to move…now!
Lilia launched herself upward a half second too late.

Graham spun low, one long muscular leg extended. He effectively swept Lilia's legs out from under her then bore down with his teeth clenched in a fierce snarl. She tried to roll but moved too late, hitting the mat flat on her back with a stinging thud.

“Dammit!” She flailed to the left but a calloused hand latched hold of her right wrist and jerked her back.
I've gotta keep my sword.
Lilia rolled toward Graham, straining to keep him from prying her weapon free of her right hand. If she could just pass it to her left, she could retaliate with a few well-placed whacks and win her freedom.
So much for letting him “think” he's winning. Damned if he's not about to.

Graham squeezed her wrist tighter and brought his face close to hers. “Nay, lass. Ye'll no' be using this poor excuse for a blade across me arse again.” He plucked it free of her fingers and flipped it out of the ring. “And now I believe I owe ye a taste of yer own tonic.” Kneeling down, he firmly planted one foot forward, then yanked her up from the mat and pulled her across his bent knee.

“Oh hell no!” Lilia squirmed from side to side, kicking and flailing to escape. Dangling facedown, her ass hiked up in the air and an easy target, panic mounted as she strained to wrench her wrists free of Graham's iron grip. “You are not gonna whip my ass in the middle of this ring.”

“The hell I'm not.” Graham brought the flat of his hand down hard across the meatiest curve of her buttocks with a resounding smack.

“You son of a bitch!”
Dammit, that stings.
She curled forward, still trying to yank her hands free. If she could just bend sideways far enough, she could bite the shit out of his leg. Another echoing smack stung across her backside. An enraged roar ripped free of her lungs.

Graham rolled her off onto the floor and stood. “Let that be a lesson to ye. Ye should always be prepared to endure whate'er ye've meted out.” He brushed his hands together as though they were soiled, then turned and stomped away.