Lucien leaned the sword against a chair, then stripped off his frock coat, and unfastened his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves to bare his forearms. Hefting the blade, he turned it over and back to free any tightness in his wrist. Everyone was staring in anticipation. Even the servants had edged nearer. Only Cassandra stood apart, watching under hooded lids.
Selecting a level area, he saluted young Elliot, then began. He restrained himself long enough to save the lad’s pride, then divested him of his sword. The foil went flying, landing with a thud on the turf.
One of the boys whistled his approval.
Will laughed. “One minute more and I’d have had him.”
Arkwright slapped Will on the shoulder. “My lad, the minutes youdidhave were a gift. He was holding back out of sheer politeness.”
Lucien scowled at his friend. While his father had sought every opportunity to show his superiority at any social gathering, Lucien had come to loathe vulgar displays when people made much of their own talents.
Even so, Will’s eyes shone with admiration. “I’d heard of Captain Harcourt’s exploits but had no idea you were so skilled.”
Simon laughed. “Who do you think I honed my swordplay with?”
“Shall we return to our archery?” Lucien suggested, setting the foil aside, but suddenly Cassandra stepped forward.
“Perhaps you would be willing to indulgemewith a little swordplay first?” she said.
The others laughed and Lucien could tell that they thought Cassandra’s challenge a show of sisterly teasing, but her eyes were steely as the button on the tip of the swords.
“I think we’ve had enough,” Lucien said. “Shall we withdraw to have some refreshment?”
“I insist, brother.”
Was this dare to cross blades the most honest encounter he’d had with her? Was it possible that lashing out at him this way might ease some of the tension that sizzled in her like a coming storm?
“If you wish. I will use my left hand, to even the odds.” He slid his hand around the hilt, lifted it.
“How remarkablyhonorableof you.”
Lucien didn’t show that her verbal thrust had struck the mark.
Her maid appeared at her side, silent as a wraith, the bit of silk covering her left eye, the other so keen it might have belonged to some oracle in myth. Cassandra stripped off her gloves, and handed them to the woman, then removed her cambric undersleeves, baring her arms. Her sleeves were not in fashion, the puffs allowing freer movement. She tucked her skirts up in the belt at her waist with practiced ease, then scooped up Will’s abandoned foil.
Cassandra saluted Lucien as he switched hands. Let her bash away at him for a while, he thought.
The first clash of swords startled him with its force, and it must have shown on his face. She bared her teeth in a rictus of a smile. In a flurry of silver and movement, she went on the offensive. He was vaguely aware of gasps from the onlookers. But as he fended off blows, he realized he had seldom fought a more skilled opponent. This was no game to her. She was fighting in earnest, every muscle in her face tight with exertion.
Sweat broke out on Lucien’s brow as they moved about the field.Come on, then Cass, he thought, grateful there were buttons on the sword tips.Get the poison out…He had greater upper body strength, but she was quicker, light on her feet. He didn’t want to accidentally hurt her, but it was harder and harder to parry her thrusts without putting his whole weight behind it. Her footwork was flawless, with a skill he’d seldom seen.
She executed a brilliant combination, the crowd applauding.
Their swords gave a metallic twang, grating against each other’s length hilt to tip, sticking for a moment before they could yank them free. He and Cassandra sprang apart, circling each other. Her eyes burned now with something he couldn’t name. Pleasure? Triumph? No. There was almost a blindness, as if shewere in a trance. Something that sent a chill crawling up the back of his neck.
He was frightened for her.
“Cassandra, I forfeit.” He started to lower his blade, but she came at him like a fury, slipping under his guard. Pain burned his chest, glancing off his sternum.
What the hell? He leapt back, whipping his own blade up, knocking hers aside. His shirt tore, Cassandra’s sword point carving a fiery line across his chest.
He heard Lady Elliot scream from the sidelines. “He’s bleeding!”
He could feel it, warm, sticky flowing from the cut Cassandra had made. The button on the point of her foil had fallen off, but Cassandra didn’t know it. She kept coming at him, her eyes vacant. Chilling. As if his sister wasn’t there…
CHAPTER 10
The clash of metal on metal, the flash of light on the blades, filled Lucien’s senses, his left-handed swordplay a poor match for Cassandra’s skill. His stomach clenched with the horrifying possibility that he might wound his sister or die by her hand.
