But her dignity…what of that? She needed it intact. “Tomorrow then. Ten. Don’t be late.”
*
After waking upon the couch the next morning, Wesley couldn’t help thinking that that was the most intimidating, most glorious event he had ever witnessed in fencing. Perhaps in any sporting event. And by a woman! Most assuredly, she was living up to her namesake. She was a warrior. Bet aside (almost), he now just wanted to be near her to learn some fencing techniques he might employ on Samuel in the next tournament. He was in need of some fresh moves. That, and partly he wanted to see how she might next surprise him.
His father would have a heyday, seeing Wesley lose. And to a woman, at that. He could still hear his father’s threat.Don’t come home unless you win. Losers don’t sleep in this house.And that had been drilled into Wesley’s head almost from birth. And the first time he lost, a ridiculous footrace of some kind at his fifth birthday party, his father told him to sleep over at his friend’s house. It hadn’t been harsh. It was just a simple dismissal. He didn’t want to look at him. And the first time it happened (the sleepover that is), Wesley was thrilled enough to spend more time with his friend. It was when the dismissals happened again and again, each time a little harsher, that Wesley felt the sting of them.
Losing to Boudicca had him torn. In one sense, it was a loss. It stung. Not that he would let her see that. But in another sense, he appreciated her skill and could see how he could exploit his time with her.
He was still in a state of shock by the time he arrived at her house the next day. Not a minute late. In fact, he was a fewminutes early as he strode up her front steps, so he found his mind wondering, not for the first time, why no one was ever at home when he called. Boudicca had explained that given her age, her family had agreed to let her be. Wesley couldn’t help thinking that she had probably just told them to let it be, and so they had. And just as he was thinking that, before he even knocked, Arnolds opened the door and he came face to face with three sisters coming down the stairs.
And then he thought,why did I have to go and wonder about no one being home?
The sisters were bantering amongst themselves when they stepped down into the foyer, and even though Arnolds had only taken his hat and coat, he felt a bit exposed.
“I’m here to see Boud—Lady Boudicca.”
“Bodi’s in The Practice Hall already, Your Grace,” Lady Artemisia spoke up.
“Thank you. I’ll be on my way then.”
“So you know her secret then?” Lady Zenobia asked.
“Yes, we had a bout yesterday.”
With some astonishment, Lady Artemisia asked, “And you came out unscathed?”
“If one’s pride doesn’t count.”
“Touché.” He was pretty sure Lady Joan uttered that single word, but he was trying to make his way toward the gymnasium, without being impudent.
“We shan’t keep you from your visit.”
And he had almost quit the room when Lady Artemisia tapped him on the arm and whispered, “But if you hurt her,” and then she drew a line across her throat, smiled, and skipped away with her sisters.
Chills ran down his spine. If Boudicca had secrets, the other sisters might have as well. He recalled the various weapons in The Practice Hall, shuddering to think which weapon of choicebelonged to Lady Artemisia. She was the youngest of the four, but perhaps the most reckless.
He arrived in the gymnasium and observed as Boudicca practiced her single leg hops. His focus on her thighs. Those thighs would probably have an incredible grip around his hips. He blasted the thought from his mind.
“I’ve brought my own gear today.” He lifted his satchel in proof.
She ignored his words as she finished her exercises. Breathless, she called out to him. “You can change behind the screen again.” She pointed it out to him as if he had forgotten about it since yesterday. “That’s what it’s there for.”
It felt awkward this time to change in the room because she was in it. And she was close enough to him that he could hear her heavy breathing. And that heavy breathing was doing something to him that he wasn’t ready to admit.
He ducked behind the screen and changed quickly, affording himself little time to dwell on the swelling member between his legs.
Fencing. Attacks. Parries. That’s what he was here for.
When he emerged, his body and all its parts were in their restful proportions. He grabbed a foil from the wall and proceeded to the piste.
“I know you pronounced it an impossibility, but would you consider demonstrating your signature move all the same?”
Her smile and clear blue eyes stirred something within him. He had deemed her fetching in that sapphire blue from days ago, but in trousers, with a foil in her hand, she was a warrior he might follow into battle.
“Of course, Wesley.”
And his name on her lips…heat seared his heart. What the deuce was that about?
