The Arrow Read online

  At least now he had an explanation for her quietness at the midday meal, and perhaps also for her intensity on the practice field.

  She bent down to pick up the knife, slipping it in her hand for a moment before handing it to him. “Would you do something for me?”

  Anything. But that was not a promise he could make. “If it is in my power.”

  “I don’t want to presume …” She caught her lip between her teeth and peered up at him uneasily. “Am I right in thinking that you know the king fairly well?”

  He schooled his features to impassivity, the question startling him. She’d never asked him about his role in the king’s army, so he’d never had to lie to her. He didn’t relish the idea of having to do so now. Bruce and his followers were a topic that she normally avoided. He sensed she still had no love of the king and blamed him for what had befallen her village. “Why?”

  “Do you think you might ask him to make some enquiries? I know you’ve tried to find out his name, but maybe the king would have better contacts …”

  “I’ve done everything that can be done.”

  “I don’t understand why the soldier’s name should be so hard to discover. Surely there can’t have been that many captains with the Earl of Hereford in Scotland at the time?”

  He didn’t want to talk about this, damn it. “I thought you agreed to let me handle it.”

  “I did. It’s just that it’s been so long, and I know you’ve been busy.” She stepped forward, putting the hand that wasn’t holding the knife on his arm. “I don’t want to keep looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. He has to pay.”

  Gregor agreed, but he wouldn’t risk her going after him herself. Just the idea of it made his blood run cold. She was too stubborn for her own good. “So what do you plan to do when you find out, Cate, kill him?”

  Her eyes narrowed at the hint of scorn in his tone. “Why shouldn’t I? He deserves it.”

  “You think it’s just that easy to take a life? You think you can kill him and escape unscathed? You think it won’t change you?”

  He realized he was shouting only when she released his arm and stepped back. She was staring at him with far more understanding than he would have liked.

  Feeling as if he’d just revealed more than he intended, he forced his temper to cool. Taking the dagger from her, he slipped it into the belt at his waist. “I don’t want that for you, Cate.”

  “But what about you?”

  It was too late for him. “It’s what I was trained to do.”

  “To kill?”

  He didn’t answer. “You have been trained to defend yourself. There is a big difference between the two. You are not trying to win—”

  “I am trying to get away, I know.” She finished with a roll of her eyes. “You sound just like John.”

  Relieved at the excuse to end the subject, he smiled. “Good. Let’s see what else my brother has taught you. Shall we see how well you do if I am the one wielding the knife?”

  She nodded. “But if you are going to go too easy on me, I’m going to go find John.”

  The hell she would. The lazy smile that curved his mouth revealed nothing of the vehemence of his thoughts. “Careful what you ask for, Caty—you just might get it.”

  Gregor wasn’t his brother. John was good, but Gregor was something else entirely. He seemed to have no weaknesses, his skills as sharp and deadly as the blade he kept getting past her defenses. If this were real, Cate would be dead ten times over by now.

  She’d given the outside of his wrist a quick double slap, the way John had taught her, but the dagger didn’t come flying out. She’d attempt to block the arm coming toward her and change the direction of the wrist, by putting pressure on it and twisting to release the knife, but she wasn’t fast enough to get her hands into position before he stopped her.

  He left Cate no openings and seemed to anticipate what she was going to do before she did it.

  And then there was his strength. She would have had more luck trying to bend steel than break his hold on her. His arms were …

  A ripple of awareness shuddered through her. Rock solid, bulging with raw masculine strength, and unbelievably warm. They felt so good wrapped around her, they made her knees weak. Which didn’t exactly help her ability to concentrate any.

  After another embarrassing failure, which landed her in the dirt on her back, she had to drag herself back to her feet.

  He definitely wasn’t taking it easy on her, but neither did she sense he was trying very hard. It was infuriating to realize that he was probably using only half—maybe three-quarters—of his strength and skill to defeat her soundly. She felt like a pesky midge being slapped away.

  Although Robert the Bruce had waged a whole war on being “pesky,” after what happened this morning with the rider, it was humbling. She was supposed to be a warrior, yet all it took was a man who looked like the soldier who’d raped and killed her mother to turn her limbs to ice.

  “Again,” he said.

  She muttered a furious “why bother” under her breath. He would just put her on her backside again, which was bruised and sore already.

  Apparently, he didn’t just have super strength; he had super hearing as well. “Are you giving up, Caty?”

  Cate had never glowered before, but there was a first time for everything. Her mouth pursed tightly, and if she could have killed him with a look, she would have.

  The slightly smug smile was the worst. He knew how frustrated she was. God, what she wouldn’t do to wipe that smile off his face. “I will never give up.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t think so.” Shaking his head, his gaze suddenly grew more pensive. “You remind me of someone when you do that, but I can’t think who it is.”

  She was so shocked, her mouth fell open before she recovered. “A jealous husband, perhaps, who’d like to see you gelded?”

  He shuddered dramatically. “God’s bones, Cate. Let’s not use the word ‘gelded’ when there is a dagger within reach.”

  “That’s assuming I could ever get it out of your hand.”

  “You don’t have to sound so disappointed.”

  She dropped her gaze to the area in question. She thought she might have heard him swear. When she glanced back up at him, she was smiling. “Oh, I wouldn’t geld you.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” There might have been a touch of lingering huskiness in his voice.

  She dimpled, her smile turning sugary sweet. “Not without cause, at least.”

  To her surprise, he laughed, swiping a strand of hair from her lashes. She didn’t think he even realized what he’d done. But she did. The unconscious gesture was both tender and intimate, and worth every minute of being tossed on her backside all afternoon.

  “You’re a fierce little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Thank you,” she said primly. “I think that is the nicest compliment you’ve ever given me.”

  He frowned, as if he couldn’t quite figure out whether she was serious. Deciding she must be, he shook his head. “You are an unusual woman, Caitrina Kirkpatrick.”

  Hating the sound of the false name she’d given him, she wanted to correct him. Instead she smiled. “And that was the second nicest. Perhaps we should resume before I’m overcome by too much flattery?”

  He gave her bottom a playful slap. “Saucy brat, get over there. This time try not to project your intentions so much. Look at my arms, not at my face.” As if that were easy. But he was right. The moment their eyes met, she lost some of her concentration. “You are quick and agile, but you also have to make every movement count—you aren’t going to get many of them against a skilled opponent. And with a weapon coming at you there isn’t much room for error. You won’t beat me skill to skill or strength to strength—no matter how badly you want to.” She flushed, realizing that was exactly what she’d been trying to do. She’d wanted to impress him by besting him, and in doing so, she’d forgotten what John had taught her. Her goal w