Chapter 6 #4
She was breathless as she repositioned herself upright, both from the effort and from William himself.
His nearness exuded a sense of danger and something else under that.
Yearning. Her blood pounded in her chest at the excitement of learning and the power of his presence.
His touch made her insides quiver as she studied his movements.
Once he finished his practice of her elbow strike, he paused, his breath hot on her neck, before he shifted away.
“The second way is blade down,” William said in a low tone as he stepped back from Ailith and spun his knife in a reverse grip. Time to continue the lesson.
Again, Ailith copied his movements, spinning the knife in her palm. She had done something similar with the fake knife under Master Park’s tutelage, but the weight and danger of a real knife changed the moves.
“This is also no’ a good grip unless ye're up close and plunging the knife into his throat or chest,” William said.
He again quickly stepped forward and plunged his knife down at her throat, this time stopping well before the tip brushed her skin, the tip of his blade five inches from the side of her neck. Ailith was expecting his advance this time and didn’t jump, yet he did not come close to harming her.
His body, however, was closer than the knife, and the heat of his nearness muddled her breathing. His forearm lingered on her breasts as he reached out a finger and twined a lock of her hair, draping it over her neck.
Did he know what he was doing to me, his nearness like this? He has to.
“In both cases, the trick is getting in close and hoping ye dinna end up with a blade in your own stomach,” William said in a husky voice before stepping back again.
He tossed his blond locks off his forehead and leveled his intense blue eyes at her. “I want ye to hold your knife blade up,” William said, spinning the knife, all business once more.
Ailith again spun the sgian-dubh to copy William.
“Now loosen your grip and put your thumb on the side of the handle, no’ around it,” William instructed as he slid his own thumb along the handle, turning the blade sideways to show her what he meant.
Ailith did as he instructed and held her knife out like his.
“From here, ye dinna have to be as close,” William said, squaring off with her about four feet away. “You can stab out like a spear.”
Without moving closer, William thrust his arm toward her. She copied his attack. He had a longer reach, so his knife was nearer to her than her own sweep toward him.
“Ye can also slash,” William said, swinging his arm quickly to the left and then back to the right.
Ailith slashed her knife at William’s stomach.
“Good. But most men protect their stomachs with clothing, leather, or armor. Do it again, but aim for my throat. Most times, we leave that unprotected.”
She hesitated. This wasn’t a rubber knife. If she missed … but he raised his chin a wee bit. Ailith repeated the movement, her blade slashing in front of William’s throat, but well away to avoid any harm to him and his exposed neck.
“Ye can parry with a blade,” William continued, swinging his blade across her again, this time the blade pointed to the ground as he pretended he was blocking an opponent’s blade. He moved with such skill and grace, it was like watching a dance.
Ailith copied his motions, but this time put full effort into it, moving the blade fast as she spun her upper body. She'd been taught how to deflect and block by her past instructor, just not with a knife. The move was also a dance to her.
“Very good,” William commented. “Just like that. Every movement, every attack needs to be made violently and deliberately. Give no warning.”
Master Park’s similar instructions echoed William’s, and she nodded.
William squared off with her again. “If someone reaches out for ye with their hands, dinna pull back, dinna attack their body.
If ye pull back, they'll move forward and grab ye, but then they have momentum on their side. Dinna attack, because they may grab your wrist since they’re already reaching for ye.
Merely slash but aim for their fingers. At worst, ye'll cut them, and they will no longer reach for you again. At best, ye may slice off one or two of their fingers and give them something to think about other than attacking.”
William started to reach out for her with his left hand, but then pulled back. His cheek twitched.
“Go slow if ye please, mo ruaidh,” William instructed. “I still need all of my fingers.”
With a sly grin, Ailith nodded, and William reached out for her. She again slashed slower and with deliberation, slicing the knife in front of William’s hand.
“Excellent,” William complimented. “If ye wish to practice with the knife, ‘tis the first thing I want ye to learn.”
He tossed his knife in the air, easily catching the blade, then twisted his body and threw the knife. The weapon tumbled blade over handle to stick deep in a tree about ten feet away. He was showing off, and she knew it.
Ailith panted out a giggle and moved next to him. “I dinna think I need to learn knife throwing, William,” she commented flatly.
“Probably no’,” William replied as he kissed the top of her head before stepping away. “Now face me as ye would someone wanting to harm ye.”
Ailith held her knife the way William had instructed, but turned her body slightly in the stance Master Park had taught her.
She bent her knees for balance and power, sweeping her skirts off her legs as she moved.
It worked to keep the burdensome skirts from twisting between her legs and tripping her up.
William lifted his eyebrows as he appraised her stance.
“I did no’ teach ye that,” William said. “Yet ‘tis functional.”
William then quickly reached over and drew his sword, slashing out at Ailith as the blade swept across his body. Ailith jumped back with a short squeak. Suddenly, now facing William holding a sword, she could see the value of knowing how to throw a knife.
“Aye, William,” Ailith commented sardonically. “Ye can show me how to throw a knife later.”
Then, moving at only half speed, William stabbed out at Ailith, aiming for her stomach and ready to pull back if she failed to react. With the blade down, Ailith slashed her knife across her body, deflecting William’s sword to her left.
“Good,” William said approvingly.
Still moving at half speed, he raised his sword high above his head to cleave down on her as he moved in closer.
With her heart slamming in her chest and breathing heavily, Ailith moved quickly and stepped into him, closing the distance and jabbing her knife at his ribs, stopping the blade an inch away from his shirt.
“Good,” William said again as he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her near regardless of the weapon she held.
His body was hot and sweaty from their mock fighting, and the pure intensity of him overwhelmed her completely.
Her thighs quivered in response. “But be wary of ribs. Your blade may bounce off bone or get embedded in the ribs. Will no’ do any good for ye opponent, but ye may lose your knife and be defenseless. ”
“Aye, William, I’ll remember,” Ailith replied as she leaned into his arm.
Her breathing was heavy and erratic from their exertions and from his nearness.
Her heart pounded harder against her breast when he touched her, and something about training with him, her heart pounding and her blood pumping, turned their fighting into something much more heated, more torrid. “Anything else?
“I think ‘tis enough for today,” William said and sheathed his sword.
He wrapped both arms around her, drawing her close enough to share his knee-weakening heat.
After the adrenaline of practice, his nearness only heightened her excitement.
And his excitement as well, from the feel of his bulging manhood against her hip.
“We can ride out and practice more in seclusion next time.
I dinna want people seeing ye practice. ‘Twill cause rumors–dangerous ones–and ye might lose the advantage of surprise.”
Ailith leaned into his broad chest, hearing his own heartbeat hammering beneath his skin. “Thank ye, my husband.”
“One last lesson,” William said as his hand slipped to cup the back of her head. “’Tis the most important one of all.”
Ailith pulled her head off his chest and looked up into his eyes, waiting to hear William’s final words of advice.
“The easiest way to die in a knife fight is to try not to get cut,” he told her. “Everyone gets cut in a knife fight. Everyone. If ye walk away unbloodied, then ye’re lucky or skilled. But in your mind, ye must understand that ye will be cut, and accept it.”
“Why?” Ailith asked as a chill took the edge off some of her hot yearning. His dire words ran contrary to the effort he put into training with her.
“Many men have died trying to avoid the blade to the point where their opponent is doing all the attacking while they do all the defending,” he explained in a slightly harder tone, as if he didn’t like having to discuss this topic with her.
“Ye canna win if ye dinna attack, and that means getting close enough to be cut. I dinna know what your other training has been, but ye should know there are times when ye may have to use your own hand or arm as a shield to block or stop a blade from cutting your throat or piercing your heart. ‘Tis why I would prefer ye dinna fight at all,” his tone shifted to a softer, if chastising one. “Though if necessary, I’d rather my wife lose a finger or take a deep gash across the forearm than to no’ come home to me at all.
Do ye understand what I say? ‘Tis no easy thing to stick one’s own hand in front of a blade, knowing what will happen. ”
She nodded sagely. “I understand, William.”