Page 33 of Waking Roslyn

“No!” she protested, reaching for it, but I tossed her staff aside.

“You are losing control, milady.” I approached slowly. I didn’t brandish my sword, I just stepped closer.

She backed away. But not because she was avoiding the conflict. It seemed she was finally beginning to recognize her vulnerability.

“Don’t leave your circle,” I advised. “Stand your ground and get me out. Here.” I tossed my sword outside the circle. “No weapons. Just me.”

“But you’re huge,” she protested.

A smile tried to escape but I contained it. “You haven’t even tried.”

She breathed angrily through her nose a couple times and then came at me, shoving against my chest. “Get out! Get out!”

I let her propel me back, but I went slowly, forcing her to exert a tremendous amount of energy.

After giving me a final shove that pushed me over the boundary of her circle, she surprised me by stooping down and picking up my sword. Then she retreated to the middle of her circle and pointed the weapon at me.

She made an adorable picture. Her hair was coming loose and her chest rose and fell with her worn-out breathing. Best of all, she looked fierce and determined, like she might actually be willing to fight. That was good. It was what she needed. Never mind that the way she held the sword was all wrong and I’d be able to handily disarm her and have her flat on her back in no time at all if I tried. That wasn’t the point. If she had any hope of learning to defend herself, she needed that fierceness.

I nodded in satisfaction. “Well done. You used the tools at hand.”

A small smile pulled at her lips.

I swapped the sword for a staff and we worked on her grip. I did my best to ignore the flashes of fire that burned through my gut every time I had to touch her hands. I had no right to feel anything for this girl except respect and a willingness to help her.

It was almost a relief when I noticed the sun setting. “Let’s head back to Bridgefield. I wouldn’t want you to be out after dark.” I couldn’t help my smirk as I looked at her. “You never know what sort of ruffians might be wandering the woods at night.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled as she handed over the staff.

We walked back, and when we encountered the stream, I offered a hand to assist her again. The moment I let go, I scrubbed my palm against my outer thigh, trying to get rid of the want that made my fingers curl, trying not to notice the way her hair fell from its pins and her cheeks flushed with the effort of training.

I cleared my throat. “You should probably…” She looked at me and I pointed a finger at my own head, then at hers. “Your hair has come loose.”

“Oh.” She stopped and took a moment to poke and prod and finger her hair back into place. “Better?” she asked.

I nodded and we walked on. “So,” I started when my curiosity got the better of me. “Is the unwelcome nobleman still around?” Of course, I knew he was because my mother made the meals, but I wanted to know Miss Rose’s feelings on it.

“Yes. I believe he’ll stay for at least a few days.”

“And will you have to visit with him?”

She shook her head. “He’s here to see Lord Rockwell, not me. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

I cut my eyes over and noticed she looked less confident than she was trying to sound. Hopefully a few days was all it would be since she was clearly uncomfortable, but from what my mother and sister had said, the nobleman in question was a perfectly pleasant fellow. I still wondered what she disliked about him, but it wasn’t my place to pry.

We reached the back garden, and I gave a little bow of farewell and watched as she climbed the steps up to the veranda and disappeared inside.

I turned in the direction of the kitchen, anxious to fill my belly with my mother’s wonderful cooking, but someone called out behind me.

“You.”

My face puckered, an automatic response to Lord Rockwell’s condescending tone. But I schooled my expression and straightened my spine before turning to face him, trying to look respectful without looking like I was being prideful. With my size, it was a hard balance. “Yes, my lord,” I answered, noting that he was accompanied by his wife and a man who must have been the nobleman Rose was trying to avoid. They were coming out of the gardens.

Lord Rockwell’s eyes studied me, then flicked to the door that Miss Rose had retreated through before returning to me. “Might I ask what you were doing with my wife’s cousin?”

Curious that he wouldn’t just call her by her name. “I encountered Miss Rose as she was walking the grounds, and since the sun was setting, I offered to escort her back to the house.”

He continued to stare in silence, like he believed if he looked hard enough, I’d crack and reveal that I was secretly having clandestine meetings with the noblewoman who lived under his roof. Granted, I was, but not for the reasons he would assume.