“I…if…if you’ll excuse me, my lady.”
Fergus fled. She’d pushed him too far.Ah well.There were other ways to irritate her pompous little baron.
She looked around and found a weapons chest. Smiling, she drew forth the smallest sword she could find and began going through the basic drills Crispin had taught her when they were children. Before her mother had caught her when she was ten and put an end to her secret sparring with Crispin, she had beenrather good with a sword. Hopefully, the sight of her swinging a weapon about would catch his lordship’s attention.
Sure enough, it did. Martin took several steps in her direction, then stopped and waylaid one of his men. Much to her disappointment, it was a minion and not the man himself who climbed the ladder.
“Excuse me, my lady, but I must insist you leave the weapons in the weapons chest.”
Martin’s emissary was a middle-aged man, this time with a balding pate. He looked at her like a wayward child up to mischief. Which, she supposed, she was, at the moment.
“I assure you that I’m being perfectly safe. I merely need some exercise after being cooped up below decks for so long.”
The man shook his head. “You may walk about the deck if you need to stretch your legs, but leave the weapons alone please, my lady.” It clearly cost him to be polite about it.
“I’ll stop if Lord Martin asks me to himself.”
Let her so-called husband come up here to try to stop her. She’d had enough of the silent treatment and was growing desperate.
“Lord Martin is otherwise occupied, my lady. Please hand over the sword.”
“I answer to my husband, not to you.” She knew she wasn’t making any friends amongst the crew with her behavior, but perhaps that would work in her favor. If they all wanted to get rid of her, perhaps they wouldn’t mind dropping her off at Yarmouth.
The sailor stormed off and spoke to Martin.
With a smirk, she took a few more experimental swings with the blade. It felt rather good in her hands. Perhaps she should learn swordsmanship in truth. It was a rare skill for a lady but not unheard of. After all, hadn’t Lady Eleanor herself been armed when she went on crusade?
“Give me the sword, Isabella.” Martin had climbed onto the forecastle and now held out his hand.
Triumph!She had his attention, at last.
She narrowed her eyes. “Ask nicely.”
He raised his eyebrows at the challenge. “No. You wished to gain my attention, and now you have it. Hand over the sword before I take it from you.”
At his words, she couldn’t help but smile. “I’d like to see you try.” She shouldn’t goad him like this, but having carried this farce thus far, she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
He gritted his teeth. “Very well.”
In a blur of motion, he twisted the sword from her hand with ease, despite her attempt to evade him, and it clattered to the deck. Somehow, she ended up with her arm pinned behind her back and his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her in place, her back against his front.
His breath tickled her ear as he said, “Well played, Isabella, but this particular game is over, both for your safety and my crew’s.”
“I assure you, my lord, I am perfectly safe with a blade.”Oh dear.She liked being this close to him far too much.
“You’ll notice that none of my crew practices with steel. If you wish to do sword drills, you must use a wooden sword like the rest of them.”
She should demand to be released, but instead she leaned back into him and said, “I’d like a word with you.”
“You have my undivided attention. What will you do with it?”
His breath tickled her neck, and her treacherous body went up in flames. She had to fight this. Somehow, she had to get to Yarmouth so that she could save Adelaide. Exhilaration and heat warred with her fear of the consequences of her actions.
“I’ll…I’ll…” Why was it so hard to think? She found herself shifting against him, craving more contact. This was no good at all.
“You’ll what?”
She hardly trusted herself to answer.
