Page 37 of Only Scandal Will Do

Duncan cheerfully considered strangling his friend, but refrained. If he simply ran him through, perhaps it could be put down to an accident during the duel. Katarina had not raised her weapon yet, which he found encouraging. But the fire in her eyes, he feared, was all for him.

Unfortunately, it was not the kind of fire he hoped for.

“Tommy, you arse, this is Lady Katarina, who has challenged me to this duel...wager.

Keep a civil tongue in your head or I will cut it out for you. My lady,” he said, in a lowered tone designed to placate. He met her eyes also, in hopes of blunting her anger. “My apologies for Mr. Redmond’s rude behavior. He is, as you can see, quite foxed. Pay him no mind, I pray you. Lord Trevor,” he called to Tristan as the one sane harbor left him. “Will you stand my second so we may proceed?”

With an amused glance at Katarina, Trevor nodded. Duncan, now fully supporting the unconscious Tommy, inclined his head toward Matthews, who stood by like some bird of prey waiting to swoop in to rectify any breach of protocol. Trevor approached Matthews and while they conversed, Duncan half carried, half dragged Tommy to the nearest wall, slid him down and sat him up against the gold-patterned brocade. Better out than creating mischief.

Matthews gave a yelp of laughter. Tris must have given him the alternative to the wager. He never imagined Katarina would capitulate without the drawing of blood. Now he just hoped to make the deed swift and as painless as possible. He cringed from the thought. Was there no other way?

At the weapons table, he selected his blade and began to prepare. Katarina had retired to her end of the room and waited in a relaxed stance. She held the sword naturally in a gloved hand, her grip sure, as if with long hours of practice.

He watched the snug cut of her breeches hug her calves and thighs as she executed a series of practice lunges. If only he could strip off that garment to feast his eyes on the smooth, creamy flesh of her lean thighs. Trace the curve of her sleek calf with a reverent hand all the way up to...

His breath caught in his throat, stifling the harsh rasp of his panting. With Herculean effort, Duncan dragged his gaze away from her siren’s form. He pulled on his gauntlets, reached for his sword--and stole another glimpse of her. Damn! How in hell was he to focus on the duel with such a distraction before him?

Cursing under his breath, he looked over his shoulder. Katarina now stood between Dr. Pritchett, who had arrived just after Tommy, and Matthews, seeming relaxed and calm. She raised her head and, catching his look, sent a dimpled smile his way.

Damn the woman! He’d wager she could fence just fine in skirts and had donned this outlandish costume merely to distract him. The idea of her cold, calculating nature steadied him, brought him back from the brink of a muddled disaster. He’d show her. He would give her the five minutes he’d promised himself, then a swift cut to her arm and his torture would be over.

Now completely composed, he affected a careless air as he walked to the center of the ballroom where chalk lines delineated the combat area to await his opponent. Katarina embraced Matthews, making every hair on Duncan’s head stand on end. “That is not the usual method to acknowledge a second, Lady Katarina,” he hissed as she took her stance across from him.

“But this is not the usual duel, is it, Lord Dalbury? I will not be offended if you do likewise and embrace Lord Trevor before we begin.” Her eyes were wide in false innocence.

Hah! He would not take that bait. “Shall we commence, my lady? To first blood?”

“To first blood, my lord.” She became quiet and grave. “I wish us both bon chance.”

Beauty, strength, integrity. The perfect woman. “I as well, my lady. You are ready?”

In response, Katarina raised her rapier into position and nodded her head. Duncan took a deep breath and raised his weapon to hers.

CHAPTER 16

The moment his sword came into position, Katarina attacked, moving in close, trying to come in underneath his guard. Retreating, he tried to shift the distance, but she kept pressing him, always staying so close he could not fully extend his arm. In effect, he could not reach her.

He emptied his mind and let his training take over. A duel was a chess game to him, a mental image that focused him whenever he fought, whether for pleasure or in earnest. Always grateful for this dispassionate objectivity, he welcomed it now that he was engaged in the fight of his life. Mentally, he stood back from Katarina, seeing her moves, counteracting them automatically. The problem was, she was very good. He’d told Tommy he would give her five minutes; he’d be lucky to find a way through her defenses in twice that time.

Her form, her movements, her cunningly executed parries bespoke her as one of the better opponents he had fought. Her technique was good, her footwork excellent. His sword slid past a parry to slash her upper left arm. Damn, they were just getting underway. Then elation hit.

He’d won. She would have to marry him now.

He stepped back, breathing hard, only to find her advancing, fire still in her eye. “My lady!” He continued to parry, lest she skewer him in earnest. “We agreed to fight to first blood.

You are wounded.”

She stopped, guard still up. Between gulps of air she said, “I am not wounded, my lord.”

Duncan grew still. “I wounded you in the arm.” He believed her too honorable to renege on the terms. What was she about?

“I think not. But if Dr. Pritchett will verify?”

He motioned Pritchett over as Katarina began to unbutton her jacket. Her movements drew his attention to the fact that his opponent had chosen to fight with her coat on. Most men preferred the freedom of the loose shirt alone, but perhaps Katarina had thought it would be too revealing of her breasts. Though she certainly had no qualms about showing off other parts of her body.

The final buttons undone, Pritchett drew the garment off her and began inspecting for tell-tale signs of blood. There was none. Her white shirt remained pristine and intact.

“I told you so, my lord,” Katarina said, gloating. “I felt no sting to indicate a wound and I