Chapter 10 #3
“How do you expect me to develop my skill with this weapon if you don’t challenge me?”
“But I’ve seen your skill. I know you’re already quite proficient.”
She glared at him. “I love being patronized.”
He waved her on.
“No, you come at me,” she demanded.
Aidan lunged and retreated, fending off a flurry of blows as she pressed.
Then, when he thought she was retreating, she darted in, tying up his weapon hand with her arm and stabbing him, head and neck, with lightning speed.
She barely touched him with the dagger, but he knew if this were a real fight, she could have driven the dagger’s point home in both places.
That thought was fleeting, though. Other sensations were running through him. The feel of her body pressed against him. She was strong and tough, beautiful and soft, and the heat from her flowed into him. Morrigan was completely unaware of the effect she had on him.
She disengaged herself and stepped back, glaring. “If you’re not going to try . . .”
“Who is being patronizing now?” he muttered. “I would have been dead before I hit the ground. Let’s go again.”
Not about to be bested, Aidan stepped up his attack, using his long arms to shove her back and keep her off-balance.
With a deft move, she sidestepped and lunged, but he caught hold of her jerkin and yanked her forward.
As she spun to the ground, Morrigan punched upward, catching his barely healed eye with her fist and the butt of her dagger before tumbling off out of his reach.
“The deuce,” he muttered as he went to help her up. She was on her feet before he got there. He could feel the blood running down his face and pressed a hand to his eyebrow.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She dropped her weapon. “I can’t believe I hit you in the same eye.”
“I’m fine.” He headed toward a bucket of water by the shed.
“Let me see.” Morrigan chased after him. “You’re bleeding.”
She scurried in front of him, blocking his way. She grabbed his wrist, forcing his hand down from the injury. She bit her lip, dismay registering in her eyes.
“It looks very bad. This time I cut you. What a brute I am! The blood is . . . Can you see?”
“Let me wash it, then I’ll tell you.”
She stepped out of his way but hovered like a mother hen, staying right at his side. When he put his hands into the water, her hands went in. When he splashed water on his face, she was using the cuff of her shirt to wipe it away.
He nearly laughed. The situation was comical.
Never in his life had anyone fussed over an injury of his, certainly not one as minor as this.
He did enjoy her attention, though, and considered pretending to pass out, just to see how she’d respond.
He decided against it with Sebastian nearby. He’d never hear the end of it.
“I feel horrible, Mr. Grant. I can’t believe I did that to you.”
“I assure you, it’s nothing.”
“Now you’re just being kind.”
“Not at all. I can see perfectly out of my other eye,” he told her.
Morrigan ordered him to sit on a nearby bench. He followed her directions. Luckily, Sebastian and Blair were still unaware of what happened. Aidan could only imagine the stories his brother would be inventing about this incident.
The numbness was quickly giving way to a stinging pain. Aidan tried to touch it, but she pushed his hand away and tilted his chin up.
Morrigan leaned closer to look at the wound. She produced a handkerchief from somewhere, and she used it to keep light pressure on his eye. Her soft breath teased his neck. Her free hand caressed his forehead as she brushed a lock of hair away.
Her skin was flawless, her dark eyes intense and unwavering. Aidan looked at her lips. The bruising was gone, and only a small cut remained, still healing.
His entire body became aware of her nearness.
He’d thought her beautiful from the first moment he saw her in Inverness.
But she had an aloofness that made her mysterious, an untamed fierceness that he found fascinating.
Being near her was like standing by a loch at the onset of a summer storm. He wanted to be swept away.
She removed her handkerchief from his eye. “Blast. It’s still bleeding. I should get Isabella. She might need to stitch it.”
“I don’t need stitches for something so insignificant.”
“We can’t let a scar ruin your good looks.”
“Good looks? You think I’m handsome, Miss Drummond?”
“Passable.” She dabbed the handkerchief against his eyebrow.
Aidan took her hand, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Only passable?”
She froze, and a deep crimson blush spread upward from her neck into her face. For a moment, time stood still. Her lashes were long and dark. A dusting of freckles kissed the tip of her nose. Aidan’s gaze caressed her face, settled on her lips. He wondered what she would do if he tried to kiss her.
She wrenched her hand out of his grasp and leaped back. “I’ll . . . I’ll go and fetch Isabella.”
“There’s no need to trouble her.”
“There is!” she exclaimed. “I’ll fetch her.”
Before he could utter another word, she was gone.