Page 27 of A Wolf's Bargain

The whispers grew to murmurs, pulling Cillian’s attention away as he considered the surrounding crowd. His men were invested, listening with rapt attention to every word. There was no easy way for him to dismiss her without losing face, and by his darkening expression, he knew it.

“Mark me, woman,” he said, his voice as hard as stone. “You asked for this. When you’re bloodied and bruised, I’ll not hear a word about it. Do you understand?”

Cora nodded. The temptation to goad him further was strong, but she ignored it. Instead, she scanned the circle and called out, “Would anyone have a sword and buckler I might borrow? Seems I left mine in my other gown.”

At first, no one moved. They all glanced warily at their leader as though judging how angry he’d be if they responded. The man who’d been fighting when she arrived stepped forward, a nervous smile on his face. “Here, Lady. Take mine.”

Cora smiled and thanked him before stepping into the ring. The process of fitting the buckler gave her shaking hands something to do, and she hoped no one noticed that her nerves had caught up to her. She pictured Éogan and all of his lessonsin the castle courtyard. She’d never be a warrior, but he’d made sure she could hold her own against the other guards. Men and women could both die on a blade, he’d said, so it only made sense that she knew how to defend herself.

The sword in her hand was heavier than the ones she’d used before, but there was no helping that. She slid her hand to the center of the hilt, gripping it tightly with her thumb forward and her fingers bent just like Éogan had taught her. The buckler around her arm was light but sturdy when she pulled it close to her chest.

Cillian watched her, eyes trained on her every move like a hawk fixed on a rabbit. He lifted his sword from his shoulder, shifting it in his hands as he widened his stance. “Keep that buckler up,” he said as he started a slow walk around the perimeter of the ring. “I’ll control my hits, but that won’t help if you drop your defense.”

Cora smiled, mirroring his circuit around the ring. “Thank you for the advice. I’ll try to keep it in mind when I win.”

The crowd roared around them. To her surprise, just as many cheered for her as for Cillian. Cries of “Get ‘im, Lady!” and “Kick his arse!” blended with calls for Cillian to put her in her place.

Before she could tune them out, Cillian attacked. She raised her buckler on instinct, deflecting his blow only a moment before it would have struck. It was a gentle strike, but it still vibrated all the way up her arm.

He was going easy on her, just as she’d known he would. She’d counted on the fact that he’d underestimate her. Like the man in the last fight, she would never win based on brute strength. Her only advantage came in his miscalculation of her skill.

Cillian hesitated after the blow, and Cora wasted no time delivering a counterstrike. He leapt away from her sword, dodging its arc more gracefully than she’d expect from a man hissize. Rather than chase him, she waited. Patience. Patience and concentration were her strengths against this opponent.

He came at her a second time, feinting to one side before swinging from the other. She was ready. Narrowly dodging the blow, Cora reached out and tapped his exposed arm with the flat of her sword.

The crowd roared, their raucous shouts echoing around her. Cillian stared at her sword, then at her. To her surprise, he grinned and tilted his head until Cora heard an audible crack. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, wife?”

It didn’t escape her notice that he’d said something similar about himself after their wedding. Cora returned his smile. “Dear husband, you’ve no idea how surprising I can be.”

Something hot and hungry flashed across his expression—something she hadn’t seen in the weeks since their wedding. Most days, she only spoke with him in the early morning and late at night before bed, and he seemed content with that. Up till now, she’d appreciated that he hadn’t pressed her for more physical intimacy. Still, it’d be a lie to say that she hadn’t missed the heat in his eyes after that first night.

There was certainly heat now. Cillian re-centered himself and said, “I look forward to finding out,A Mhuirnín.”

The unexpected endearment distracted her, and Cillian rushed her before she could open her mouth. Strike after strike, blow after blow, his hesitation replaced with an energy she found difficult to match. Over and over, she lifted her buckler to block his swings. After the first few, her arm ached from bracing against the blows. She looked for an opening—any opening—to use.

Éogan’s voice echoed in her ears, instructing her to dodge, to parry, to strike. She held her own, but his size and speed made it difficult to gain any ground. For one chaotic moment, they wereequals. She couldn’t break his defense, but neither could he get past hers.

The longer the match went on, the more her muscles ached. Cillian was a trained warrior who’d survived countless battles. She was competent enough, but training in a courtyard wasn’t enough to beat him.

But victory hadn’t been her aim, and the sweat dripping from her husband’s brow suggested she would be victorious in her own right. Just by holding her own, she’d proved him wrong. The luchthonn women and the warrior queen flitted through her mind between blows—a reminder that she was not alone. Another strike came down on her buckler, and Cora barely resisted the urge to howl like she imagined they would.

It was a combination of her fatigue and his skill that ended the match. She miscalculated a blow, reacting to the swing just a second too late. His sword knocked her buckler from her hand. The force sent her reeling. Unable to keep her balance, she tumbled to the ground.

Cillian’s sword was at her throat before she could blink. The crowd fell silent around them as he stared down at her, his enormous blade buried in the ground next to her head. Cora took deep, heaving breaths as she held Cillian’s gaze. The heat in his eyes had only grown over the course of their match, and the throbbing between her legs proved that she hadn’t been immune. She pictured him covering her body with his own there on the ground. He’d kiss her, bite at her lips, and conquer her there as he had in their battle.

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he shook his head and yanked his sword free from the ground. Then he extended a hand with a smile. Cora took his hand, gasping as he pulled her to her feet. Their spectators howled in appreciation, their shouts so loud they rang in her ears.

Cillian brushed the dirt from her cheeks. “I thought I married a lady. You didn’t think to tell me I’d mated Boudica herself? It might have been nice to know.”

Warmth spread through Cora’s body at the mention of her idol. “But husband, that would ruin all the fun,” she teased, running her hands over her hair.

Suddenly aware of their audience, Cora took a step back. She bowed, acknowledging his victory. As the men rushed them, patting her back and ruffling her hair, she couldn’t help but notice that Cillian never looked away.

Chapter 13

Cillian

“Cillian? Will you help me, please?”