Page 25 of Highland Spy

She’d plumped out nicely too, just as he’d imagined she would.

In fact, almost too nicely. His gaze slipped to her bottom, a luscious curve against tight black breeches. Shame hit him like a slap and he quickly jerked his stare back toward the bounce of her braid.

He was her trainer, her mentor. He was above ogling like some lewd tavern patron.

Instead, he lowered his head and pushed his body harder, making his legs burn with the effort of going faster, singeing away all vestiges of unwanted masculine appreciation.

He’d almost caught up with her when they reached their final lap. She finished mere seconds before him.

Ariana’s blue-green eyes gleamed with victory. She wouldn’t gloat though. She never did.

He wagged a finger. “I almost had ye.”

“Maybe tomorrow morning.” She winked and gave him a brilliant smile.

Delilah and Sylvi appeared around the castle wall together and drew to a stop. Their cheeks and noses were red from the cold, but sweat glistened at their brows. Their bright eyes and faces were lit with eagerness to train.

Connor motioned to the neat stack of practice weapons set upon a blanket. “Delilah and Ariana, practice with swords. Sylvi, we’re doing hand-to-hand.”

Delilah and Ariana gave each other an excited, shared smile. They were well matched. Delilah knew how to tutor Ariana while still challenging her, and Ariana didn’t hit as hard as Sylvi.

All the women moved to comply, first tying on their boxy, padded armor and then taking their positions.

Sylvi braced herself with bent knees in front of him, her arms locked in preparation to fend off his blow.

Her pale blue gaze met his with a vehement determination that would throw most men off guard.

He punched. She blocked and spun out of his reach, her stare calculating.

The clang of swords and Delilah’s careful instructions sounded to their left.

Sylvi ducked low and threw her fist at his stomach.

Connor jerked his hand down to block the hit just as she switched her hand’s momentum, shoving it to the ground for support instead. Her leg swept at his ankles with the force of an iron pole and sent him crashing to the ground.

She was on him before the image of the sky even registered in his vision.

Her hands braced his shoulders and she glared down at him with the fierce anger she always showed when she fought.

“Show me how to break a neck.” She panted around her words with an almost bloodthirsty frenzy. “Show me everything I know your father taught you.”

They’d had this conversation before. Too many damn times. “Ye know I willna do that.”

She shoved off him. “And you know why I chose to come here.” Her chest heaved with her frustration. “You know why I worked so damn hard to get here.”

Connor rose to his feet. “It doesna give ye the authority to speak to me as ye do. Go run three times around the castle. I’ll no’ have ye hurting the others because of yer anger.”

She gave a roar of frustration, but turned and obeyed his order.

He dragged a hand through his hair. She was getting more difficult to control each day, with each new skill she mastered. This morning was the first time she’d taken him down, and with too much ease. Her move had been a good one. He’d commend her on it when she cooled down.

Hell, he might even borrow it.

But no matter how much she disagreed with him, he knew she wasn’t ready.

Connor’s father, the Shadow, had been a famed warrior in the Highlands. He killed with a deft skill unparalleled by any other man in Scotland. He’d taught Connor many other lessons before teaching him how to kill. There was the responsibility, the appreciation, the impact of death, the understanding of what it could change—and what it could not.

For those reasons, Sylvi was not ready.