Page 62 of The Laird’s Sinful Secret

“Progress.” Euan’s approval made her heart skip a beat. “A few more years of practice and ye might actually hit what ye’re aiming fer.”

“A few years?” She lowered the bow, turning to face him. “I think I deserve more credit than that.”

“Dae ye now?” His mouth curved in that dangerous way that made her forget how to breathe properly. “What sort of credit did ye have in mind?”

The air between them crackled with tension that had nothing to do with archery. Moyra opened her mouth to respond—to say what, she had no idea—when a burst of laughter from a nearby stall broke the moment.

“Come.” Euan took the bow from her hands, returning it to the weathered woman with a nod of thanks. “There’s more tae see. Unless ye want tae keep embarrassing yerself with that bow.”

“I was improving!”

“Aye, from terrible tae merely bad. Quite the achievement.” But his eyes danced with warmth that took any sting from the words.

He guided her toward another stall where wooden practice swords and a mock combat ring were. Young men and women were already engaged in friendly duels, their laughter rising above the clash of wood on wood.

“Fancy a rematch?” Euan’s challenge was clear. “See if ye’ve learned anything from this morning’s lesson?”

Moyra eyed the practice swords, then him, weighing her chances. He’d go easy on her—she knew that now, had seen the way he tempered his strength when they’d sparred earlier. But pride made her lift her chin.

“Ye’re going tae regret asking that.”

“We’ll see.” He selected two swords, tossing one to her with casual confidence.

They faced each other in the ring, and Moyra felt the crowd’s attention shift to them. The laird and the MacKenzie woman—it would make for good gossip tomorrow. But right now, with firelight dancing across Euan’s scarred features and that competitive gleam in his eyes, she didn’t care about propriety.

She attacked first.

Their blades met with a crack that vibrated up her arms. Euan blocked easily, as she’d expected, but she flowed into the counter he’d taught her—sweeping low, forcing him to adjust his stance. His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.

“Someone’s been paying attention.”

“I told ye—I’m a quick study.” She pressed the advantage, testing his defenses with the combinations she’d memorized from watching him train.

They moved through the ring in a dance that was half combat, half dance. Every time their blades connected, every time he had to actually work to block her strikes, she felt that same thrill she’d experienced this morning. The knowledge that she could surprise him.

He caught her blade in a lock, their faces suddenly inches apart. “Ye’re getting cocky, lass.”

“Is that a problem?” Her breath came faster now, from exertion and proximity in equal measure.

“Nay.” His voice dropped to that rough timbre that made her knees weak. “I like ye cocky.”

The air between them turned molten. Moyra was acutely aware of how close they stood, how the firelight caught in his eyes and turned them silver, how his chest rose and fell with controlled breathing that suggested he felt this pull as strongly as she did.

She should step back. Should remember they had an audience, that half the village was probably watching their display and drawing conclusions she couldn’t afford them to draw.

Instead, she held his gaze and smiled. “Then ye’re going tae love what comes next.”

She twisted, breaking the lock with a move she’d seen Niall use against him once. Euan stumbled back a step—actually stumbled—surprise flickering across his features before dissolving into something that looked dangerously close to pride.

“Well played.” He lowered his sword, conceding the point. “Very well played.”

The crowd around them erupted in cheers and laughter. Heat crawled up Moyra’s neck when she realized how many people had been watching them. Half the fair had seen their little sparring match. But then Euan’s hand found hers, his fingers threading through hers right there in front of everyone, and she found she didn’t care as much.

“Come.” He pulled her from the ring, ignoring the knowing looks and whispered comments. “Before ye get any more dangerous ideas.”

They wandered through the fair together, his hand never leaving hers, and Moyra felt something shift in her chest. This wasn’t her captor showing her around his territory. This was... something else. Something that made her pulse race and her stomach flutter and her carefully constructed walls crumble a little more with each shared smile.

“Hungry?” Euan gestured toward the food stalls lining the meadow’s edge. “Ye need tae try the fair’s offerings. Consider it cultural education.”