The look on his face was all the confirmation she could’ve wanted. He did kiss her yesterday. She didn’t dream it up.
Keep watching, Lord Bill. Cerise spun into the Thunderstorm, her swords a whirlwind of precise strikes, spinning faster and faster, as she gathered her magic. Left, right, left, down, churning the air like the fury of the wind churned the storm clouds. She paused for a fraction of a second, poised on her toes in the middle of her lethal storm, and let her flash leak into her eyes. The magic sparked like lightning and shot to her swords. She broke into her dance again, the flash riding on the edge of her blades; she was lost to its rhythm, so deep in it she drowned in the flow of magic. When she glanced up, he stood two feet away, watching her, utterly focused on her every move.
She arched her back, twisted in the last smooth cut, and straightened.
“Lord Bill.” I hope you enjoyed the show. I need to lie down now. “Didn’t see you there.”
He stared at her with such open, raw longing it sent tiny needles of adrenaline through her. She wanted him to cross the distance to her and kiss her.
William pulled back. She saw it in his eyes. It cost him, but he pulled back, almost as if he put himself on some invisible chain. She felt so disappointed it actually hurt.
“Very pretty,” William said. “Small problem.”
“What’s that?” She turned away to put down her swords.
“The air doesn’t fight back.”
She pivoted back, narrowing her eyes. “And you do.”
He nodded.
Oh, you sad thing, you. She stepped aside and bowed, inviting him to the weapon rack with a wave of her hand. “Take your pick.”
William surveyed the weapons on the rack. “Too big. Do you have a knife?”
“You can’t fence with me using a knife, Lord Bill. I would slice you to ribbons.”
He growled a little and picked up a short sword.
Behind him Kaldar nudged Urow’s youngest son. “Bet you he lasts at least thirty seconds.”
“Umm ...” Gaston looked at him. “No, he won’t.”
“Bet me something.”
“I don’t have anything.”
Kaldar grimaced. “Pick up that rock.”
Gaston swiped the rock off the ground.
“Now you have a rock. I bet this five bucks against your rock.”
Gaston grinned. “Deal.”
Kaldar’s face took on a look of intense concentration. Cerise glanced at him. Yep, he was trying to work his magic. When a bet was involved, occasionally luck was on Kaldar’s side against all odds. It didn’t work every time, but it worked often enough, and right now her cousin seemed to be straining every ounce of his will to help William spar with her. She had no idea why. The inside of Kaldar’s head was a mysterious place better left alone by all sane people.
Cerise raised her swords. “Any time, Lord Bill.”
William struck. She swiped his blade aside with her longer sword, turned, reversing her short blade, and rammed the pommel into his face, tripping him. He fell down.
That felt almost too good. Guilt nipped at her.
Kaldar and Gaston made some sucking noises.
“Are you okay, blueblood?” Kaldar called out.
William twisted his legs and rolled back up, shifting his stance, the short blade raised above his shoulder, his knees lightly bent. Amber rolled over his eyes and vanished. He was smiling. Interesting. She’d never seen that stance before. No matter.
Cerise charged. He thrust into her attack, sliding his blade against hers. She moved to parry, and he smashed his left fist into her ribs. The blow took the air out of her lungs. She slashed at his ribs, opening a light cut across his black shirt. You want to play? Fine.
William muscled her back. She was no pushover, but he was freakishly strong and he wasn’t kidding. They danced across the yard, cutting and punching and grunting. He punched her shoulder—her arm nearly went numb—and knocked the shorter sword from her hand. Sonovabitch! She elbowed him in the gut, which must’ve been made of armor, because he didn’t even wince. The next time she smashed her fist above his liver. He laughed, dropped his blade, and grabbed her right wrist. Cerise hammered a kick to his knee. William dropped down, and she kicked him in the jaw, knocking him into the grass.
“Weak knees and elbows, Lord Bi—”
He grabbed her ankle and twisted her off her feet. She hit the ground hard. Her head rang, and when she blinked the ringing off, her arm was caught between his legs. An arm bar. Nice.
“Done?” William looked into her eyes and put on a bit more pressure.
She groaned.
“How about now?”
Pain shot through her shoulder. “Done.”
He kept the arm in the lock. “So help me out here, does this mean I win?”
“Could you gloat a little more?”
He grinned, nodding. “I could.”
“Okay. You win.”
He dropped his voice. “What’s my prize for winning?”
She blinked. “What do you want?”
The feral thing in his eyes winked at her.
“No!” she told him. “Whatever it is you’re thinking of, I’m not doing it in front of my whole family. And threatening to dislocate my shoulder isn’t the best way to ask for it.”
“Get off the ground, children,” Grandma Az called.
He let her go. Cerise twisted and kicked him in the head, not very hard. The blow took him just below the ear. He shook his head, looking a bit dazed. Cerise rolled to her feet.
“What the hell was that for?” he growled.
“For being a jackass.”
She picked up her swords and went to sit by Grandma Az. It was highly unlikely he’d follow her there.
Their audience had grown. Aunt Pete and Ignata sat next to Grandma. Aunt Pete was sporting a black eye patch that made Cerise’s heart lurch. Aunt Murid leaned against the tree behind them.
Cerise sat on the grass between Aunt Pete’s and Grandma’s legs and gave William the evil eye. He grimaced, got up, and headed to the large, round sink at the other end of the yard to wash up.
“Pummeled you pretty good,” Aunt Pete said.
“I could’ve cut his head off.”
“But you didn’t,” Ignata said.
“No.”