Page 55 of Only Scandal Will Do

Damn. She was lying to herself, just as she had been that morning in the park.

Almost losing her good mood, she pushed all thoughts not related to fencing out of her mind. She wanted to enjoy this afternoon. Calling for Margery to fetch her fencing clothes, Kat tore out of her gown, impatient lest she be late for the match. She dressed in a frenzy, yet stood in the study alongside her husband, correctly attired, checking a slender foil for balance, within the allotted thirty minutes.

“These are lovely blades, Lord Dalbury.” She sighted along hers, admiring the straight shaft and excellent quality of the steel.

“I brought them back from Italy earlier this year. I found many fine weapons and some of the greatest masters of the art there. I was fortunate to have studied with one during most of my visit.” Dalbury answered amiably enough, but his gaze strayed more than once to her legs.

A giggle nearly escaped her. Well, he had seen her in breeches and stockings before and if showing them still gave her an advantage, she would say thank you and take whatever help she could get.

Dalbury sighed and shifted his attention to the sword in her hand. “The blade is satisfactory to you, then?”

“Indeed it is.”

“Then let us proceed to the practice room.” He escorted her down the sun-drenched hall, his strides so long she could scarcely keep up. He walked as though nothing tied him to the earth. “Shall we say the first to make three touches wins the match?”

“That sounds fair.” They entered the ballroom and she strode into the center of the familiar long, rectangular box. She ignored its memories and implications, instead taking her stance, crouching on bent knees, foil in second position with the blade pointed down in front of her. Before Dalbury could take his place opposite her, she rose.

“My lord, we have not yet agreed on the wager. We should lay out the terms before the match begins.”

“You are correct. The stakes must be agreed upon. What would you care to wager?” Not a hint of the suggestive in his tone. That pleased her. Or did it?

She shook off the odd question and smiled engagingly before making her demands. “If I win the match, you will agree to teach me that devilish disarm with which you won our last match.”

He frowned in pretended outrage, though his eyes glinted with amusement. “Give away one of my best secrets, my lady? So that you could use it on me, perhaps?”

Laughing, she shook her head. “On Jack, my lord!”

He joined her laughter and nodded. “Just so, Lady Dalbury. If I lose, I will teach you to perform that particular disarm.” He paused, then continued wickedly, “I will not, however, teach you how to defend against it.”

“Unfair, my lord!”

“I must find some way to protect my interests.” His smile made him seem young, somehow vulnerable. Her resolve slipped several notches and her mouth went dry. A rush of heat spread throughout her body as if a wild fever possessed her.

“Now for your forfeit, Lady Dalbury.”

Sheer will forced Katarina to reply normally. “What will you claim as prize if you win?” The implication she’d heard in her own words brought her up short. She was a fool not to have made some things off limits.

“Last time the prize was your illustrious self. Can the wager this time be for anything less magnificent?”

Oh God! What had she left herself open to? How rash and impulsive!

“Name it then, my lord, that we may be about our business.” She could have bitten her tongue out when she realized how that sounded, even to her own ears.

But Dalbury seemed again not to notice. He simply let his gaze linger on her face for several moments before replying, “Should I win this match, it is then my right to claim...” He arched a brow, grinning. “A kiss from you.”

Kat stared, amazed, at a complete loss for words. He could have just as easily claimed his marital rights without force. “Just a kiss?” She blushed to hear her voice much higher pitched than normal.

“No kiss is ever ‘just a kiss,’ Lady Dalbury.” His eyes heated with the promise to show her exactly what he meant as soon as possible. “So I am to instruct you, regardless, this afternoon. You are ready?”

She nodded, and forcing herself to become the trained swordswoman, mentally and physically, drew a deep breath and exhaled. To fence again was pure happiness, and she couldn’t help grinning at her opponent.

Dalbury assumed his stance and nodded to her. “Pret!Aller!”

And she flew forward, attacking him with cold-blooded certainty, the exhilaration of the challenge wiping away all thought of the consequences should she again lose a match to the Marquess of Dalbury.

CHAPTER 24

Katarina parried Dalbury’s cut to her left shoulder, the zing of metal singing in her ear. He was going to win again, curse him! She retaliated with an attempt to bind his blade over, but he withdrew and lunged, aiming now for her right knee. The absolute concentration on his face was maddening; his impish grin even more so. They had been fencing for some ten minutes and already she knew she could not best her opponent. But, how it invigorated her to try!