“That!” He attempted to duplicate her movements by swinging his rapier up and then crashing down on himself.
It was ambitious to hold in her laughter, but she succeeded. She was walking over to the water stand, which helped control her amusement. It was a quick second to pour herself a glass to drink, and a bit of a slower second to gulp it down. Normally not one to gulp down anything in the presence of a man, she threw etiquette out the window.
“Boudicca, what the bloody hell was that?”
“It’s my signature move.”
“How do you even have a signature move?”
“Practice.”
“Practice? That’s all you have to say in explanation?”
“Hours and hours of practice.”
He waited.
“Upon years and years of practice.” She poured another drink. “Is that a satisfactory explanation?”
He was shaking his head, almost as if he had water in his ears. “How in the world did you come up with that?”
“I thought I’d explained—”
He put up a hand. “I know. Practice.” A whistle blew out between his lips. “I have never”—his eyes met hers—“in allmyyears of…practice, met anyone who has done anything remotely close to that maneuver.”
“Thank you.” And then she smiled. A triumphant smile if there ever was one.
“You have to teach me that.”
And then she folded in laughter. No matter how many hours she spent with him, he wouldn’t just be able to do it. She had never seen or heard of anyone who had done it. Her fencing master himself, even after years of fencing with her, had yet to be able to mimic it. And not for want of trying. Oh, the man had been eager to replicate it. But the eagerness had waned over the years. He still attempted it, but…it was one of her foolproof moves.
“Sure. I’ll teach that to you right after you teach me to be a rake.” Oh, why had she said that? She was not normally one prone to impulsive verbiage.
“Well, I guess I could—”
“Forget what I just said.”
“All right—”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“No matter. It’s forgotten.”
“Shall we go again?”
“I think not.”
So that was that then. He had made up his mind about her. And he wasn’t in it. She peeked up at him, as he hung the sword back in its place. He appeared rather out of it, if she were taking proper note of his body language.
“My pride has suffered enough blows for one day.” He turned to face her again, and sighed. “However, now that I know your secret, my pride shan’t take such a beating the next time we parry.”
Her heart fluttered. He wanted to see her again. More than that, he wanted to fence with her again. Silly heart, be calm.
“You’re assuming I’ll want to fence with you again.”
“Yes.”
Well. It was true. And he had just called her bluff.
