Page 21 of Beholden
“If you’re captured and have no weapon for fighting, there are other ways to break free.”
Since I would be a willing sacrifice, I had no intention of attempting to free myself. Even if I wanted to run, the queen made sure the fairest maiden was unable to. But I couldn’t tell him that. For several minutes, he showed me how to use my elbows to hit someone, lifting them to shoulder height and then pivoting and using the momentum to strike.
“Now if someone pins your arms from behind”—he slipped his hands onto my waist—“you must learn to free yourself first, using the elbow strike.”
Before I could protest, he’d wrapped his arms around me, pinning me in place. He was merely demonstrating, and yet at his hold, all thoughts of training fled.
“You must bend low and shift your weight.” His whisper was near my cheek. The solidness of his chest pressed into my back, and the strength of his arms enveloped me so thoroughly I couldn’t think or move.
“The goal is to get at an angle where your elbows are once again free to use against your foe.”
Even if I had been able to think or move, I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay right where I was.
“Bend, my lady.”
I closed my eyes and relaxed into him, resting my head against his shoulder. “Like this?”
“No, bend forward.” I could feel him draw in a breath as though to explain himself further, but then he stalled. For a moment, his body remained tense.
Finally, I felt an easing in his muscles. “Of course, you can always weaken your enemy’s self-defenses. That works too.”
“Is that what I’m doing, my lord?”
“Very much so.” Though his hold had loosened, his fingers on my waist tightened.
At the pressure, I relaxed against him even more. “And am I your enemy, my lord?”
His chest rose on another breath. And when he exhaled, I could feel the warmth near my ear. “Your beauty most certainly weakens me. But you are far from my enemy.”
While such an enchanting compliment might be new for me, from the smoothness with which the words had rolled off his tongue, I could tell he’d had plenty of practice in the art of wooing.
“How many other women have weakened you?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
He dipped his head, his mouth near my ear. “Do I sense jealousy, my lady?”
I started to pull away, embarrassed by the truth of his observation.
A gentle press of his lips to my temple stopped my efforts and weakened my knees. I reclined against him again, a thrill whispering through me. He’d been right. I hadn’t needed to force myself to like him. Not even for an instant. He was thoroughly likeable in every way.
“I can admit to enjoying the company of many a maiden in recent years,” he whispered. “But I can also admit none have ever come close to affecting me the way you do.”
“Many a maiden?” I didn’t want to think about him withmanymaidens, and yet I couldn’t keep from imagining women more beautiful than myself falling into his arms and under his charm. I shouldn’t be bothered by such images, but strangely I was.
I bent forward as he’d instructed me and then used my elbows to slug him hard enough that he released a softoomph. As soon as I made the move and twisted away from him, I clasped a hand over my mouth, horrified at my outburst.
He grasped his stomach and bent over.
“Vilmar.” I touched his back. “I beg your forgiveness. I did not mean to hurt you.”
He remained down for several more seconds before he lifted his head, his winsome grin in place. “That was just right. I see you are a natural at self-defense.”
“Then you are unharmed?”
“No, I’m terribly wounded.”
“Truly?”
“Wounded you think less of me for my past dalliances.” His grin began to fade, replaced by a look I couldn’t interpret but that made my stomach flip upside down.
