intercepted it and pulsed her blade against his to push it out of the way. “Oh no? I always find Aedan’s advice to be sage and helpful.”
She smiled faintly, refusing to be distracted as she adjusted her field of vision to take in Quinlan’s massive frame, trying to anticipate his next move.
He feinted a downward cut to open up her guard so he could strike her from the side. His thrusts were swift and powerful, but she wasn’t fooled. Her blade met his with a ringing clash as she pivoted to step behind him.
Quin rushed to regain his fighting distance, barely managing to deflect her answering attack, his ribs receiving a hard jab from her sword pommel for his trouble. He winced and their young audience sucked in a collective breath. Scarlett was so fiercely focused, she barely heard them.
“That’s what I mean. Ya have that look in your eye today, Letty—the one that says no one who joins ya in the ring is going to leave unscathed.”
She frowned at him, keeping her footwork nimble in case he was trying to distract her for his next attack. “And just what do you mean by that? Are you saying I’m being too hard on you, Quin?”
She saw an opening and sent a quick, playful jab toward his chest. It wasn’t meant to connect, merely to illustrate his carelessness. He leapt back with a rueful laugh, shaking his head as he rejoined her.
“That wasn’t too rough for you, was it?” she whispered with a smirk.
“Ya know I wouldn’t suggest ya downplay your combat skills for anyone,” he chided softly. “All I’m saying is that I can always tell when something’s on your mind.”
He twisted his wrists and his sword swept around in a lightning fast arc, almost catching her off guard. She met his blade just before it struck her shoulder, her arms straining as she bound its momentum with her own in a resounding clash of metal against metal.
Knowing she was no match for his brute strength, she sidestepped and allowed her muscles to go slack. His sword flew downward, missing her by a hair, and she jabbed him angrily in the ribs with her pommel again.
She glared at him as they regained their distance and faced each other once more.
“I’m not trying to piss ya off, Letty,” Quin said with a sigh. “I’m telling ya I know something’s wrong and I wish ya’d tell me what it is. Every so often ya show up here with that steely glint in your eye, your finger bloody like ya’ve been worrying it with your teeth,” he tilted his head toward her hands where they gripped her sword. “And ya leave everyone ya spar with a bit more bruised than usual.”
He glanced meaningfully down at his ribs and she gave him an apologetic grimace. Her last jab had been vicious and angry, aimed at the spot where she’d hit him before. It wasn’t in the spirit of a practice match, especially one with weapons.
Even if he’d been distracting her with observations she didn’t care to hear.
She had never imagined her emotions were so transparent to him. It made her uncomfortable to think someone else might have noticed.
“I’m sorry, Quin,” she replied softly. “My lack of control was careless.”
She sliced at him in a quick, threatening attack, anticipating his counter thrust and using its power to push her blade back in the opposite direction. Her sweeping upward circle landed the blunt edge against the pulsing vein in his neck.
There was no doubt it would have been a deadly strike in a real fight, and Quin smiled wanly. “I believe the match is yours as usual, cousin.”
Thom and his friends cheered, and Quin bowed to her as he stepped back. “Shall we go again?” he offered.
Normally she would have accepted, but her mood for sparring had soured. “I think I’m done for the day.”
He frowned as he followed her out of the ring. “What I said wasn’t meant to upset ya, Letty,” he told her quietly. “It’s something I’ve noticed for years, but I’ve seen it in ya more often of late. I just wanted ya to know that I’m here if ya need to talk about anything.”
Scarlett closed her eyes for a moment and then turned to face him. “I appreciate your concern, Quin. But it’s probably just the stress from Doyle’s human wedding ceremony.”
He arched an orange brow at her. “Ya expect me to believe ya’re all narky from having to put on a pretty dress and get your hair done?”
Scarlett couldn’t help but laugh, though it was partially true. “As if that wouldn’t make you narky?”
Quin snorted, his gray eyes sparkling with humor. “I dunno. I think I might quite like having a bonnie lass fuss over me with a comb. And as for wearing a skirt, my Scottish friends seem to find them downright comfy.”
Scarlett gave him a playful shove and he grabbed her hand, pulling a small bag of faerie dust from his pocket and sprinkling some over her finger where she’d started to pick at it again.
“Why don’t ya tell me what’s really botherin’ ya?” he suggested as he released her.
She sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let it go unless she gave him something more believable. “It wasn’t just playing dress-up, it was also having to sit through about a hundred posed photographs with camera lights flashing in my face.”
He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.
She groaned at his persistence. “And then at the reception, as soon as they opened the bar, some piss artist who was already in his cups wanted to get friendly with me.”
Quin’s eyes darkened. “I hope ya told Pat. If I’d have been there...Oof,” he grunted and clutched his side where she’d punched him.
“I don’t need you or Pat to rescue me, Quinlan Ursan. I can take care of myself.”
She gave him a stormy look and he held his hands up in surrender. “That I know ya can, Letty Thresher. But I’ll never not want to thrash some sot who tries to paw ya at a pub.”
She sighed irritably. “He didn’t try to paw me, exactly. He was just lushing and being generally annoying.”
Quin nodded and clicked his tongue at her. “I see. Well what is it that has ya so out of sorts, then? Because nothing ya’ve said so far sounds particularly dire.”
Scarlett hesitated and Quin’s eyes softened. “Ya know ya can tell me anything, Letty.”
She knew it was true. Quin had a kind heart and could match wits with anyone in their village, despite his fierce appearance. He would probably even keep her secret if she asked him to.
But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. It was bad enough to admit how powerless she’d been. But it was downright embarrassing to admit that she was still having panic attacks over something that had happened almost two hundred years ago.
She massaged her temple and tried to think of an explanation he’d accept. Before she realized what she was doing, she found herself telling him about Agent Derrington.
“I went for a walk to clear my head and
