Page 54 of The Gentleman’s Leading Lady

“Like this?” She lifted her arm a fraction.

“No. Higher.” His hand came to her elbow, lifting, and there it was again, his hand on her. She gloried in the sensations that rushed through her body. It was like starlings taking flight, a whirl of chattering joy, and with it a heady rush of being lifted off her feet.

“Kiddell.” Dante frowned at him. “Your defense.”

“Wouldn’t you think,” Dorsey said mildly, “it should be time for breakfast? Andover certainly isn’t stingy about his table. I’m for a kipper or three, if they have them. Kiddell?”

Kiddell rolled out his shoulders. “I do believe I’m done for the morning. I’ve got my moves down pat.”

“The rest of you,” Dorsey said to the boys. “On your way, then. We’ll let these two have at it.”

“Have at it,” Meek said, climbing to his feet.

Fred grinned and followed. “I’m for sausages. Or a nice thick rasher of bacon.”

“Hog,” Meek said, and they were gone, leaving Cerys and Dante alone in the echoing room.

Dante released her hips and stepped back. “Let the cozening begin.”

“No,” she said.

No, he could not step away from her. No, he could not put back up that guard. She wanted him close to her, unguarded. She wanted to know the man inside that carefully constructed shell.

She pressed the button of her foil against his broad chest. “Fight me.”

“I am not going to fight with you.” His eyes burned.

“Teach me, then. I don’t know the Italian style.” He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t simply walk away. She wanted him beside her, touching her.

She wanted him holding her, surrounding her. But she didn’t know if he wanted that, too.

He’d wanted it with Bathsheba Baeccon.

He held her gaze, and she couldn’t read his eyes. The man was a master of the inscrutable. He’d make a terrible actor.

“Haven’t you gotten what you wanted from me already?”

No, not nearly enough. And even if she had, she’d still want more. Cerys pressed the button more firmly against his shoulder. As anyone who knew her could tell him, Cerys Van Der Welle Evans was nothing if not stubborn. It was her defining characteristic. Some might say her fatal flaw.

“I haven’t seen designs for a theater yet, inside and out. Perhaps we could meet later in the library and discuss the matter. Dorsey has some ideas.”

“And you have been appointed to deliver them to me.” An edge to his tone. He was remembering, perhaps, how Dorsey had instructed her to haggle down his price. Flaunt her bosoms if need be.

“You could deal with Dorsey, if you’d rather, but I am prettier. And you might tease another kiss out of me, if you asked nicely. En garde.”

His eyes flared and he fumbled his foil. She lunged as he had shown her, giving him very little time to prepare, but he parried high and turned her sword away. He was strong.

She twirled her wrist at him. “Teach me that move.”

“It’s a simple one.” He walked her through it. “You’ve told me what you want for the front porch and in the proscenium, but little else.”

“Do you have anything you’d recommend?” She tried the move again, and he parried again. She fell back.

He stepped to the side, making her shift her stance. “How many boxes?”

“As many as will fit. Three tiers, at least. But not too small and crowded. And with partitions, like the old Covent Garden had.”

He attacked, signaling the move, and she parried as he had taught her. He was much stronger than Kiddell, but unlike Kiddell, who meant to demonstrate his prowess, Dante was holding himself in check.