Grace looked closely at the weapon in Fergus’s hand, realizing that William was right. It seemed that the harder he tried to grip it, the more it slipped out of his control, and saw him being forced backwards inch by inch. At one point he slipped, then had to put a hand on the ground to stop himself from falling.
However, after that, the tide turned in Fergus’s favor and he forced Robert to back away further and further until he was able to flick the sword out of his brother’s hand.
It seemed strange to both William and Grace that Fergus’s sword responded better to him when there was dirt on his hand. Something strange was going on.
“I thought those swords were supposed to be blunt,” William remarked, frowning as he observed the gash on Fergus’s arm.
Grace felt her heart sink as she looked at the spreading bloom of blood, which was becoming bigger by the minute. “I must go to him,” she said urgently.
“Not yet,” William advised. “It probably looks much worse than it is, Grace. Give him a chance to bandage it. Anyway, are you not supposed to be by Robert’s side? We have not yet resolved the issue of your marriage.”
Grace looked across the room at her financé, feeling a sense of revulsion at the thought of living the rest of her life with this man. She had visualized waking up every morning next to Fergus, gazing into his dark blue eyes, having his arms wrapped around her, and snuggling into his warm body. She had never had any experience of making love, but none of that mattered anymore, since it was never going to happen with him.
She watched Fergus walking away, still clutching his arm as he pushed his way through the throng of people surrounding him. Then she noticed that Robert was looking around, no doubt trying to find her.
She ducked into an alcove, then moved sideways around the wall to the main staircase, hiding behind the other guests as she went. She was stopped a few times by people who wanted to make her acquaintance, but she achieved her goal at last. A few terrifying seconds on the stairs—where she could be seen by everyone—followed, but eventually, she arrived on the first floor.
Grace stood with her back to the wall for a moment, composing herself, before setting off along the corridor, to where she hoped Fergus’s room was. She had no idea where it was or how to find it, but somehow she knew she would arrive there eventually. She looked around for any sign of it but could see nothing.
Then she had a stroke of luck as she saw a maidservant coming out of one of the rooms with a basin containing some strips of linen that were stained red. She shuddered at the sight, but, her heart hammering, she marched up to the door and knocked it firmly.
A moment later it opened, and Grace was staring into Fergus’s dark blue eyes, which were even more beautiful, close up, than she remembered.
He looked astonished to see her, and stared at her for a second before he grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly inside the room, then peered into the corridor to see if anyone had seen them. He breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to her, his face thunderous. “Grace, you cannot be here!” he growled.
“I came to see how you were,” Grace replied as she looked at the bandage on her arm. “How are you feeling? There was a lot of blood. Will thought there might have been something wrong with your sword. Was there?”
Fergus dropped his gaze from Grace’s, shaking his head. “No, there was nothing wrong with it,” he answered flatly.
“It looked as if the handle was slippery,” she persisted. “As if you were losing your grip, but after you fell down, you were suddenly able to do better.”
He shrugged. “Robert was tired out. He has had very little training over the past few months. I have had far more time to practice.”
“But the handle of your sword was still slippery,” Grace repeated, determined to get an answer. “Had it been oiled? Was something smeared on it?”
“My hands were sweaty,” he replied. “I had been practicing and I was hot.” At the same moment, his glance slid away from her, and Grace felt as though he was trying to hide something. She was determined to find out what it was.
“Really?” she asked sarcastically. “And the wound on your arm is from a blunt blade?” Grace was standing with her hands on her hips, her feet planted firmly apart on the ground, looking as fierce as he had ever seen her.
Suddenly, Fergus felt scared and vulnerable. Grace was here—the woman he had loved with his whole heart and soul since he was little more than a boy. He was having to summon up every ounce of willpower he had to keep his arms from reaching out to wrap around her and keep his lips from saying the words he desperately wanted her to hear. Did she still feel the same, or had he hurt her so badly that she hated him?
When Grace reached out for him, Fergus pulled his arm back as if he had been stung. He did not want to be touched, for he knew that if he touched her, his resistance would crumble. He could not take his brother’s bride away from him. He had given his word that he would never do that, even if he had done just the same to him.
He turned his back on her and walked into the middle of the room, putting a few yards of distance between them. “You are promised to my brother,” he said tightly. “If you’re seen talking to me in my bedroom, it will give him good reason to call off the wedding.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized that he had said the wrong thing.
“Call off the wedding?” Grace asked sarcastically. “Excellent! I don’t want to marry your brother, Fergus. I want to marry you, and I always have. As you said you did. Do you not love me anymore? Have you been putting on an act all along, and suddenly, when you had to confront me with the truth, you asked Robert to help you escape from marrying me? Am I that bad? Tell me.”
Fergus dropped his gaze to the floor, completely unable to look at her. How could an ordinary man like him resist a woman like her?
As Grace studied him, tears began to prickle in her eyes. He was magnificent, with his lithe, strong body, long legs, and broad shoulders. This was the man whose eyes she wanted to stare into for the rest of her life, the man she wanted to make love to, and whose children she wanted to bear.
Suddenly she could see what was happening to him. He was hiding his real emotions with hostility. Grace watched him as he strove to keep his face expressionless, but as he turned away from her, she suddenly wondered if there was any chance of winning him back. She simply could not bear the thought of never having him in her life again.
“How are you feeling?” she asked gently. “Are you in pain?”
“No, the wise woman gave me some salve for the wound and some tea for the pain.” he walked agitatedly over to the window before he turned to look at her again. “Please leave, Grace. You are not supposed to be here.”
“I only came to see how you were,” Grace said softly. “Forgive me for being concerned for you. I didn’t mean to upset you.” There was a sarcastic edge to her voice, even though her heart was aching, and she could feel tears prickling in her eyes.