An Oath Taken by Diana Cosby Page B

intricate thrusts, pushing the lad back.
    Pride and anger caught in a ruddy swirl in Thomas’s expression as he fought for each breath, meeting him swing for swing.
    At his squire’s continued defiance, his anger rose. “You do not need anyone but your bloody self, do you?”
    â€œI do nae need a blasted Sassenach!” The scream of their blades backed his decree, hard, unforgiving.
    Nicholas repelled another swing and drove forward with his sword. The lad stumbled back, cornered, but in the confusion of emotions, he felt as trapped as the lad. Bloody hell! ’Twas supposed to be a lesson in arms, naught more.
    He rotated his sword and caught the hilt of Thomas’s blade. With a sharp jerk he flung the weapon to the ground, leaving his squire unarmed. Without hesitation he lifted the tip of his blade to Thomas’s neck.
    The lad stilled. His breath tumbled out in jerky breaths, but instead of fear, Thomas’s ferocious spirit burned in his gaze.
    Shaken, Nicholas removed the sword. The intensity of emotions this youth incited unnerved him. “If your focus slips, even for a moment, you will lose all you sought to gain and mayhap more.” His fingers clenched tight upon the hilt of his blade. In dealing with Thomas, ’twould do well for him to remember that advice as well.
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    Elizabet touched her throat where Nicholas’s blade had pressed. Though the weapon was heavy and awkward to use, it’d taken every shred of her will to withhold her full ability with the sword he’d given her; but a part of her wanted to see how well she would hold her own against Nicholas, more so with her own blade.
    â€œThomas.”
    Startled by the intensity that had unfolded between them, she met his gaze. Shame filled her at the pride on the castellan’s face, admiration she’d nae earned. Even in this, the simple act of learning to protect oneself, she deceived him. It appeared in her effort to free her brother she would lose a piece of her pride as well.
    The castellan nodded. “You did well for your first spar.”
    Heat swept up her cheeks. Unable to face him further, she turned away.
    Silence spanned the void broken by the nearby clash of steel.
    â€œWe are done for the day,” Nicholas said. “When you are ready to trust me, I will be here.”
    His slow intake of breath then sigh of frustration matched her own. The day to trust Nicholas with the truth would never come. She tried to gather herself, halt this ridiculous flow of dismal self-pity. Regardless of how much she was coming to care for him, her destiny was set. Whatever the cost she would free her brother.
    â€œYour muscles will ache on the morrow.” The slide of the castellan sheathing his sword whispered behind her. “Clean your blade,”
    She faced him, as off balance by the rough edge of his voice as the hurt in his eyes.
    â€œDo you know how to care for the weapon?” the castellan asked.
    â€œ Aye.”
    He nodded. “Then be off with you.”
    Shaken by the emotions he inspired, she hurried off, anxious to be away from him, aware that she cared too much.
    â€œThomas,” Nicholas called as she reached the exit.
    She stopped, her breathing rapid, her pulse racing. Time. She needed time alone to settle her nerves, but even that small token was nae to be. She turned.
    â€œI have called a meeting of the Wardens of the Western Marches this eve, along with other officials along the border. Your blade is to be readied by then and worn at your side. See Sir Jon about a leather belt and sheath.”
    Elizabet nodded, nae trusting herself to speak. She turned and almost stumbled as she hurried away. It’d been easy to fool the English knights of Ravenmoor Castle and the few remaining local villagers of her identity, but what about the wardens and the other gentry who would arrive in a few hours?
    Over the years, her father, a respected leader of this land, had played an