Page 37 of Highlander’s Hope

Tamhas stared at him with open animosity. “Konnor,” he said when Konnor came to stand by Marjorie’s side. “Ye’re nae gone yet.”

“I have no intention of leaving until I’m sure Marjorie and Colin are safe,” he said.

“There are other people who can make sure of that,” he said.

“All right.” Marjorie put her hands with the sticks up. “All right. Are ye ready to train, Konnor?”

“Ready is my middle name, Snow White,” he said.

Tamhas walked to stand next to the wall and scowled at Konnor with his arms folded over his chest.

Marjorie handed him one of the sticks. “Who is Snow White, and why did you call me that?”

“Because you remind me of Snow White.”

Konnor weighed the stick in his right hand, then in his left.

She came to stand next to him. “Bend yer knees like so, and always keep them bent. This will give ye flexibility.”

How hard could this be? He thought of Star Wars and every historical action movie he’d seen. Copying the heroes from those movies, he held the stick vertically with his both hands by his right shoulder and bent his knees a little, the standard fighting position from judo. Marjorie watched him with an amused look on her face.

She moved his hands to hold the handle of the stick higher than his shoulder. Her touch sent a sweet wave of tingling through his arms. Their eyes locked, and he forgot how to breathe as he sank into the pale jade of her irises.

“And who’s Snow White?” She stepped back from him, though her eyes were still on him.

Konnor remembered the original Grimm fairy tale. His mom had told him she’d discussed it in her book club. “She’s a princess from a fairy tale. She was chased away from her castle and taken in by seven dwarfs, who protected her and sheltered her from the evil that chased her.”

She swallowed. “Oh, aye?”

“But the evil found her.”

She blinked. “And then what?”

“She bit into a poisoned apple and fell into a deep sleep. Thinking she was dead, the dwarfs put her in a crystal coffin.”

Her face was unreadable. “Huh.”

“And then a prince came.” Konnor lowered the sword, his arms suddenly refusing to cooperate, and rasped, “and the prince found her in the crystal coffin.”

She didn’t say anything, but her cheeks flushed.

“And he woke her up.”

She sighed and shook her head once. “What about the evil?”

“The prince dealt with the evil for her.”

Marjorie arched one brow. “Right. Well, I dinna see why I remind ye of this Snow White. Take yer position, Konnor. Time to spar.”

He chuckled and did as she asked.

“And by the way”—she grasped the stick with both her hands and took the position— “I dinna think a prince can wake someone who’s been poisoned by evil. And the prince shouldn’t fight Snow White’s battles.”

Konnor tilted his head, studying her, fascinated. She flushed and bent her knees, assuming a fighting stance. She looked at him from under her brows. “Aim to cut my neck off. Attack.”

Her voice sounded like it was made of steel. Christ, how pretty she looked, this warrior queen, with her back straight, and her arms holding the stick at her shoulder. Konnor bounced on his heels up and down, still careful not to put too much weight on the ankle.

He’d be careful not to hurt her, of course. The thought of accidentally hitting her or pushing her lay uncomfortably at the back of his mind. Though he’d sparred many times with female partners in his judo classes and served with female soldiers in the military, the thought of harming Marjorie in any way was disturbing.