Page 91 of Dark Seduction

She almost embraced him. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“CUT ME WITH THE BLADE.”

The sun was blazing down on them as they stood in the center of the bailey. A few of Aidan’s men had paused as they passed to watch them train. Claire blinked. “You want me to cut you,” she said.

His smile was arrogant. “I wish to see if ye have any skill, any speed,” he said. “Ye canna cut me, Claire.”

Claire wasn’t sure he was right. She was unusually strong for a woman and far stronger than the average woman. Kickboxing had made her light and quick on her feet; her balance was excellent. Of course, Aidan was superhuman. He would be a zillion times stronger and faster than she was. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t nick him if she tried.

He was impatient. “Cut me, Claire.”

She hesitated. “I don’t want to cut you,” she said truthfully.

He smiled. “Ye willna succeed. But try.”

This was a problem and she knew it. She wasn’t into violence and in a way, he was a friend.

“Maybe ye dinna wish to cut me ’cause ye be thinkin’ about me in Isabel’s bed?” he said softly.

She was aware that he wished to anger her, but she was more annoyed than angry. “I am sorry I saw that, believe me!” she said. “Aidan, in my time, we frown on violence.”

“Frown away, an’ be dead,” he said. Then he shrugged. “But ye’ll die screamin’ in pleasure an’ likin’ it, won’t ye? No matter who the Deamhan be.”

Claire grimaced.

He added, “I ken why ye dinna wish to cut me, lass. I dinna mind. Malcolm doesna wish to share, but I often do.”

Claire gasped. “What?”

“Ye liked what ye saw an’ ye like me too much now. Yer thinkin’ o’ me in yer bed now, nay Malcolm.”

“You are a jerk,” she cried, and she thrust the blade at his chest.

He seized her wrist, incapacitating her knife hand before she could blink. “An’ ye are dead,” he said. “Can ye move at all? Or are ye too tall an’ awkwardly built?”

Claire jerked free, set up and side-kicked him hard. She was aiming for the chin but he jerked aside and a useless blow glanced on his shoulder. But he smiled, eyes wider. “I said cut me,” he said. “Ye won’t kill a Deamhan with yer feet.” He reached for her.

But Claire was expecting it and she danced out of his reach. She was pleased when she saw respect flicker in his eyes. Now she would cut him, oh, yeah.

“Cut me with the blade, Claire,” he taunted.

Claire feinted. She half turned and back-kicked him, but he dodged this time. Now that he knew she could kickbox, he was ready for her. She panted, determined to outthink him.

“Aye,” he said, “yer first kick had better be the one that takes the Deamhan down.”

“You’re worse than your brother!” she said angrily. “Damn it, you have no right to read my mind.”

“But any Deamhan who ken do so will do so,” he said, backing out of the distance she could reach with her long legs. “Ye still haven’t cut me, Claire.”

He jerked his head toward the hall. “Ye liked watchin’ me with Isabel, didn’t ye, Claire? I saw the look in yer eyes. Ye got hot and excited, didn’t ye?”

Claire was furious. The worst part was, there was some truth in his words.

He smiled knowingly at her. “I made ye hot.”

“Fuck off!” She went to front-kick him in the ribs, but missed when he dodged. Without a pause, she shifted and followed up with a sidekick to his jaw. Claire was surprised when she connected solidly, but he only flinched. Triumphant, she dived at him with the knife.

He caught her wrist before she could sink it into his heart. Claire panted, struggled and gave up. He met her gaze, his eyes warm, and he nodded with a smile. “Ye have some hope,” he said, releasing her.