She had no answer to that. Gods and goddesses, how she missed the pleasures of the flesh! So basic, so satisfying. The most essential element of life. She hadnt felt a mans touch for over a millennium. Was it any surprise that her thoughts kept straying toward the carnal, especially when Bram flaunted his delicious masculine form?
Easier to think of frustrated lust than the Dark Ones strengthening power. She had been pulled behind Bram as he rode toward this fighting school, weaving her way through the streets. Even in daylight hours, a combustible tension lay heavy over the city, a thick, choking net of malevolence revealed in mistrustful glances and broken windows.
Good day, Lord Rothwell. A red-faced man with close-cut hair stepped forward, a sword beneath his arm. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve. Its been a spell since last weve seen you. He glanced past Bram, and for a moment, Livia thought the man might see her. But his gaze moved right through her. He was looking for someone. As though Bram usually arrived with company.
Afternoon, Tranmere. Brams voice was clipped. Im looking for a good, hard fight today.
Tranmere made a tsking sound. You an everyone else, my lord. Not so much practicing proper swordsmanship as its a battle royale. Been like this for weeks, but todays especially fierce.
Turning her attention back to the rows of men, she noted their bared teeth, their wild swings at one another. As if they were truly battling, driven forward by a need for blood and pain.
She knew who was responsible.
Perfect, said Bram. Find me a partner.
Tranmere bowed before hurrying off.
Why do you come to this place? she asked Bram. I wouldve thought youd had enough of fighting.
Anger coursed through him. He still didnt care for the fact that shed experienced his memories.
Always need to be prepared, he answered.
Prepared for what?
Anything.
Tranmere trotted forward, a large man trailing behind him. He and Bram nodded to one another.
Mr. Worton will be happy to spar with you, my lord. I believe his fighting style matches well with yours.
I dont care for pretty forms and dainty foot positions, Worton said. Just a good, tough fight. The sword he carried wasnt as thin as those used by the other men, looking more like a weapon of war than a genteel sport.
Then Im your man. Bram hefted his own sword, and it was equally brutal.
Without another word, Bram and Worton paced off toward an unoccupied portion of the chamber. Unseen, Livia drifted through the fencers as they leapt and attacked. Intriguing, how the techniques had changed over the millennia. Though Tranmere had bemoaned the lack of finesse the fighters showed today, they were still quite different from the soldiers and gladiators shed seen practicing or in actual combat.
Shed always had a fondness for soldiers and gladiators. They made for very good company in bed. Their calloused hands, their uncomplicated need. Subtle and nuanced? No. But she seldom wanted subtlety in lovemaking. Had wanted. Never again would
she feel the sweat of a lovers body on her own skin, or the vibrations of their groans against her flesh.
She must stop thinking these tormenting thoughts. Yet it was difficult when surrounded by young, hale men in their prime, all gleaming with perspiration as they vigorously used their bodies.
The tie that bound her to Bram drew her through the chamber and close to where he and Worton stood. They each took a few practice swings through the air, loosening their muscles, until, satisfied, they faced one another. After a terse bow, they took up ready stances, swords upraised.
Worton swung. His blade only tapped Brams sword. Once, twice. Getting a sense of Brams readiness. Bram held his position, not allowing Worton to drive him back. Yet he wasnt content to let his opponent do all the testing. He, too, took a handful of investigative swings, as though sounding the depths of a shore. The men held themselves loosely, but the casualness belied a tension even Livia could sense.
Bram and Worton circled one another. Their strikes grew harder, more direct. A swing, a block.
The tension suddenly broke as Worton lunged. Bram countered with quick, fluid motion. And then the fight truly began.
She had seen combat. In the gladiatorial ring. In a few skirmishes as she had journeyed from Rome to Britannia. Like any good Roman, she admired fine fighting skill, for it revealed not merely a strong body, but also a quick mind. She could claim no expertise in the techniques of armed battle, only knowing talent when she saw it.
Her gaze held fast to Bram. She could not look away even if the Dark One appeared right beside her. ThisBram in combatthis was beautiful.
Bram and Worton traded strikes. They circled, struck, lunged and darted back. Worton had the advantage of height and reach, yet Bram had speed and vicious accuracy. Their swords rang as they exchanged blows. A furious exchange.
She was rapt. This was not a genteel sparring exercise. These men seemed gripped by a need to hurt one another. They grunted as their padded jackets absorbed the sword points forcethough the points were dulled, the strikes still would have wounded were it not for the jackets protection. Worton fought hard, relentlessly, yet he could not match Bram for ability.