Slowly, he opened the door. Ready.
Liz had her back to him, oblivious of his presence. The clothing she wore clung to her every curve, sweat beading down her back, her legs bare for him to see in what she and her sister called
“shorts.”
He stood tall, no longer fearing for her safety, or his own. Her tiny butt swayed back and forth, causing him to swallow hard. The fabric of the shorts held so closely to her skin he could see every line of her feminine body.
Liz started singing along to the music she listened to.
God it was awful. She couldn’t carry a tune to save her life, but it was the most beautiful sound he’d heard all week.
Liz turned and shot her foot in his direction. Fin snapped out of the trance she’d put him in by simply existing.
She straightened. Obvious surprise marred her face to see him standing there watching. Instead of removing the ear pieces where the music flowed, she bent her knees and put her hands in front of her face, asking to spar.
Fin laughed. “Come on, lass. You can’t be serious.”
Her chin lifted. “What’s a matter, Finlay? Afraid I’ll kick your ass?”
He shook his head, closed the door behind him, and removed his sword from his hip. No use nicking anyone by accident. Rolling around on the floor with Elizabeth sweating beneath him was a recurring fantasy of his since they’d met. Of course, this wasn’t exactly how he pictured it. But he’d take what he could get.
A pearl of sweat fell down her neck, over her collarbone and disappeared between the alabaster crease of her br**sts. He licked his dry lips.
Liz circled, confident. Fin waited for her to make the first move.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Her foot shot out. Fin backed up to avoid the blow to his chest. She advanced with a quick step and attempted to hit him with her fist. Fin caught her hand, but didn’t take her down. He let go, allowing her to gain her balance again.
Liz’s cocky smile slid into something much more serious. Determined.
Fin watched her eyes, quick to catch her right before she made any move. Then something happened. She realized his strategy and managed to sneak in a kick.
Her foot caught him in the stomach and had him stumbling for balance. “Good girl,” he whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear him over the music in her ears. Her next two punches came fast and unexpected, one catching him hard on the jaw. And it hurt. His brow rose. The muscles straining on her arms held strength he didn’t know she had.
Fin sent his foot out to trip her. She avoided it and waved him toward her. “Come on, Fin. Stop playing.”
He turned his back to her, heard her approach, and swept her off her feet. She hit the floor hard.
Her eyes opened wide, stunned, but she jumped up and came at him.
Within ten minutes, they were both panting.
Liz’s punch wavered. Fin caught her fist and pulled it behind her back and her firmly up against his chest. Her br**sts heaved, and her breathing strained. The soft curves of her body pressed to his.
Liz reached up to the arm he used to hold her and called her Druid powers. Fin felt his skin burn under her touch, and he let go, springing away from her, catching the earplugs and pulling them out of her ears. The device skirted across the floor.
“Not fair, lass.”
“Ever hear the term, all’s fair in love and war?”
Aye, well, what were they?
When she came at him again he ducked, taking her down to the floor and grabbed her hands and stretched them above her head where she couldn’t apply any fire or heat because her fingertips weren’t touching him.
Her eyes met his, his body laid on hers keeping her from moving. But this closeness, this contact was torture.
Elizabeth’s gaze traveled to his lips dancing dangerously close to hers. He smelled the sweet scent of her breath, knew without a doubt she desired his taste as much as he did hers. He knew that taste, had it once before, briefly.
Wanted it even more now.
“You’re quite a workout.” She breathed the words to him, lifted her lips a tad closer.
“As are you.”
They lay there, staring at each other, neither willing to make the first move. Stubborn.
Fin’s body responded to her nearness, his kilt hardly containing the effect she had on him. Her eyes grew wider until she shut them, cutting him off.
“You’re crushing me.”
He shifted his weight, giving her room to stand.
Liz’s face turned red as she looked away from him.
He wanted to laugh at her reaction, but cautioned himself against it.
“You move much faster than I expected.” Fin lifted onto his elbow, but remained on the floor and willed his body to relax.
“Yes, well. Practice makes…” Her voice drifted.
Her eyes glossed over.
“Practice makes what?”
“Perfect. Oh my God, that’s it.” She ran her hands through her hair, her smile hardly contained.
“We’re going about this all wrong!”
Confused, he asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Practice. Oh my God, Fin. We’ve been sitting here, hiding what we are, hiding what we do while Grainna is out there exercising her powers daily. We don’t stand a chance if we continue doing what we’re doing.”
Fin found his feet. “We have to hide who we are.
Secrecy is—”
“Bullshit. Secrecy means nothing if we’re dead.
And that’s what we’ll be if we don’t start playing by her rules.”
Her idea went against everything he’d been taught growing up. Druids didn’t openly practice their gifts for others to see.
“What are you suggesting?” He knew he wouldn’t like the answer, but he needed to know what she was thinking in order to keep her safe.
“We need to practice. Daily. Like you and the men do with your swords and fighting.”
“We do use our skills.”
“No, we don’t. Not like Grainna does, not without limitations.”
“We can’t go into the courtyard and start throwing fireballs around, Elizabeth.”
She turned from him, her mind deep in thought.
“There has to be a way.” Tapping her finger to her chin, Fin knew her thoughts were far from the room in which she stood. “When you were a kid discovering your powers, where did you practice?”
“We didn’t.”
“Please, Fin, any child with a new skill practices.”
“We learned to control, more than use, our gifts.”
“Grainna uses, practices and controls. That is her advantage.”