Page 29 of Knight of the Sword

She had that unsettled feeling again, as though he were asking a completely different question. She forced a laugh that sounded stilted even to her. “I—I don’t know. Maybe, if it were real, it would be fun to swing it. Test its balance. Maybe even imagine what those knights of the Round Table were like.” She felt Michael’s hand at the small of her back and nearly jumped. Even that small gesture sent tingly sensations all over her.

“Why the interest in Excalibur?” Michael asked bluntly.

Caldwell shifted his gaze to meet Michael’s. “That would be the mother lode, wouldn’t it? For the article.”

“The article,” Michael repeated, not taking his eyes off Caldwell and keeping his hand firmly at Sophie’s back.

She had a sudden feeling that the two men were squaring off, much like boys in a schoolyard ready to start a brawl. How to switch the subject before expensive lamps started flying off tables?

“The rapier,” she said quickly. “That would make a good story. I believe the pirate Jean Lafitte used the same type as the one here.”

“But my dear,” Mr. Smith interceded, unaware of the tension mounting between the two men, “that could very well be Mr. Lafitte’s sword. It was found right after the Battle of New Orleans.” He clapped his hands delightedly. “That would make a good story, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, it would,” Sophie agreed hastily, hoping the situation was diffused.

Apparently, it was, because Alan looked back at her. “I believe you said you fenced as a hobby? And the rapier was your favorite weapon?”

“I haven’t had time recently, but yes.”

“Perhaps a little match would help you relax about whatever you were worried about earlier? Maybe tomorrow?”

“Ah—I don’t know—”

“I can handle a sword too,” Michael interrupted. “Why don’t you take me on?”

Caldwell slowly turned back to him, his look calculating. “Any time. But I was asking the lady.”

Sophie gave an inward groan. So much for diffusion.

“It would hardly be a fair match,” Michael said. “You outweigh her by a good eighty pounds.”

Sophie gaped at him. He didn’t think she could hold her own? Her lighter weight gave her the advantage of being quick and flexible! And a match wasn’t mortal combat, after all. She lifted her head, chin jutting out.

“You’re on,” she said to Alan. “Tomorrow.”

****

For at least the hundredth time, Michael wanted to kick himself for throwing the proverbial gauntlet down to challenge Sophie. She wouldn’t be here in the gym this morning, donning a fencer’s mask, facing that linebacker, Caldwell.

Of course, she refused to look at Michael where he sat on the side bench. He recalled their earlier conversation, when he’d arrived at her house, pushed through the lingering reporters, and rung her bell.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’ve come to escort you to the gym,” he answered.

“I don’t need an escort. I’ve driven myself there for years.” Her eyes had narrowed. “You’re not still thinking you’ll fight in my place?”

“I’m more of a match for him than you. No disrespect intended.”

She had practically rolled her eyes. “This isn’t some kind of duel. It’s a fencing match. There are rules. I’ll not get hurt.”

“Still, I’d like to do the honorable thing and fight for you.”

She’d stared at him, as though he had taken leave of his senses. “What are you? Some throwback to medieval knights?”

Michael sighed now as he watched Sophie assume the first guard position. He had not been a knight of the Round Table, but he had met King Arthur once in Cornwall. He’d had his nephews with him—Gawain, Gaheris, Gareth—and they all impressed him with their fighting skills. Arthur had even invited Michael to come to Camelot, but then that married lady had mucked up his life and he’d had to flee to Brittany to keep his head attached.

Still, a strong sense of chivalry stayed with him. It was obviously something twenty-first century women didn’t appreciate.