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“That’s right.” She raised her chin and looked at him down her nose. Whoever he was, he needed to respect her. “My father is a nobleman, so you’d better stop calling him a bastard,” she said through gritted teeth. “He is a lord and very respected by his people. He is not a common thief like you.”
“Really?” His sword pushed hers to the side. “Then correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t your father as well as his brothers once referred to as the Demon Thief? They stole from their own father – the king! If that’s not thievery, I don’t know what is.”
Maira flinched inwardly. She’d been hoping the man didn’t know about all that. He must have heard it somewhere. It was hard to scare or impress him with her words when he already knew all about her family secrets.
“What’s your point?” she asked the stranger. Her sword clashed with his once again.
“Why do you fight like a man when you are naught but a woman?” he rallied.
“I don’t like you using the word naught,” she spat. Her fury rose. “I am going to turn you in to the earl for theft. He’ll have you thrown in the dungeon.”
He stepped back, pulling the tip of his blade away from her. Then he chuckled. “This isn’t the earl’s land so he has no authority to do anything to me.”
“Then I’ll tell my cousin, King Richard, since it’s his land. He’ll have your head for trespassing and stealing from a dead woman’s cottage.”
“Whose place is this?” he asked with a nod of his head toward the house and garden.
“That’s none of your concern.” Once again she shot forward. His movements were graceful as if he were doing a dance. He spun around and when he faced her once again, he made a wide swoop, managing to disarm her. Her sword was knocked from her grip and clamored to the ground. Then his foot shot out and he swept her off her feet. Maira landed with a thud on her back with the air knocked from her lungs. When she reached for her dagger, the tip of his sword under her chin kept her from moving further.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he warned her.
“Please, don’t kill me,” she begged, not wanting to die this way. Had she been too bold to go up against a man in a real battle?
“I don’t kill ladies.” His proffered hand shot out and he waited. His steel gray eyes met hers and their gazes interlocked. All thoughts of kicking him in the groin, biting him, or pulling another blade on him, fled her mind when she saw the sweep of his perusal down her body and then back up, settling on her mouth. “Lady Maira,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice rattling in her chest. It wasn’t often she encountered such a handsome – and dangerous man with her name upon his tongue. “You look so small and frail, yet you have the tenacity of a wild boar protecting her young.”
“Wild boar?” Her eyes shot upward and she narrowed them. “I don’t like being compared to such an animal.”
“Well then, let me rephrase that.” Without waiting for her to take his hand, he reached out and pulled her to a standing position. His hand lingered and she felt the warmth of his palm in hers. It was intimate, exciting, and dangerous. She’d never felt this way about any man before. “You look like a queen with that crown on your head. And you possess the confidence of a ruler as well. However, your fierce demeanor, being a woman and all, really intrigues me.” He released her hand, reaching for her crown. His fingers skimmed over the jewels and, for a moment, she thought he was going to steal it from her.
Not wanting to wait for that to happen, she pushed him away and drew her dagger, pointing it at him. “Don’t touch my crown. You can’t have it,” she spat.
He smiled again, sighed, and then used his foot to flip her sword up from the ground. He caught it in one hand with his sword still clutched in the other. “If you insist on challenging me, then let’s at least make it a fair fight, shall we?” He handed her sword to her, hilt first.
Her eyes darted down to the sword and then back up to his face. Her heartbeat sped up. What was he doing? She waved her dagger in the air in front of him. “This is a trick, I know it is.”
“A trick?” The thought seemed to amuse him.
“You want me to reach for my sword so you can run your blade through my heart when I do.”
“I assure you, I would never do that, my lady. Now, please, retrieve your sword.”
Cautiously, and keeping her eyes on the thief, Maira reached out for her sword. When she did, he knocked the dagger from her hand and pulled her close to him. She landed hard up against his chest, trapped in his strong arms.
“I knew you’d trick me! Let me go,” she shouted.
“I only wanted for you to realize how dangerous it is for a lady to be wielding a sword. No matter how well trained you are, you still will never be a match for any man’s strength.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her eyes focused on his lips as well. Then she became confused. For a moment, when he leaned closer to her, all she could think about was kissing him. Her eyes closed and her head fell back as she anticipated the sensuous, yet strong lips of this stranger pressed up against hers. It might have happened, but Morag interrupted as usual.
“Maira? What are ye doin’?” came Morag’s voice from the gate as she rode her horse inside the secret garden. Maira’s eyes sprang open. She kneed the man in the groin to release his hold on her. He let out a groan and stepped away.
“You are a feisty sprite, Lady Maira. For some reason, that excites me. But now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.” He handed her sword back to her and turned to leave.
“Wait!” she called out, following him to his horse. “You are not taking Imanie’s things.”
“They’re going to go to good use,” he said, grabbing the satchel and mounting his horse. “Besides, you told me the woman was dead, so what does it matter?”
“You are starting to sound like my cousin, Willow,” she retorted. “Now, give those things back to me, you thief.”
“Nay, I won’t. You’d be best off to go back to the castle, now, where you belong. Do some embroidery or play your harp, my lady. Because behind a blade is no place for any woman to be.”
