Beyond Seduction (Bastion Club 6)

And had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen.

He disengaged with a twist and came at her again, but this time she was prepared; grabbing up her skirts, she sidestepped, slammed her blade down across his, forcing it to the side, low. The unexpected move unbalanced him; before he could recover she stepped inside his guard, lifted one slippered foot and jabbed sharply at the outside of his knee.

His leg buckled.

Flailing wildly, he fought to right himself. Ducking his arm, twisting out of his reach, she kicked a small footstool behind him, then shoved hard at one shoulder.

The look on his face as he went down was pure magic.

Even better was the look in his eyes as, flat on his back, he stared up the long length of her sword, from the tip she pressed into his neat cravat to her hand, steady on the hilt.

Eventually, eyes narrowing, he lifted his gaze to her face.

She smiled. Openly smug. “I have three brothers. I don’t fight fair.”

He didn’t blink. “You’ve been trained.”

She raised her brows. “Well, of course. Did you think only men could wield swords?”

He was clever enough to make no reply. She let her smile soften, lifted the sword’s tip from his throat. “My father taught me, then had me taught, so I could later teach my brothers, then have them taught.”

Raising the sword, she studied it, then looked at Gervase. He’d said nothing throughout—hadn’t moved an inch—yet she’d been conscious of the explosive tension that had gripped him the instant Dalziel had “threatened” her.

She met his gaze, then tossed the sword to him. “I have my own weapons—I had them brought from the Park.” She looked at Dalziel, but it was to Gervase she spoke. “You needn’t worry about me on the beach—any locals there will recognize me, the others at the very least will know me for a woman, and just as you did, they’ll underestimate me. They won’t strike hard—they’ll imagine I’ll be easy to disarm. But underestimating women is never wise.”

Stepping around Dalziel, she headed for the door.

Behind her Gervase shifted. “We’ll have to wade through surf waist-high or deeper—”

“You needn’t worry.” At the door, she turned and met his eyes. “I won’t be wearing skirts.”

With that final decisive declaration, she opened the door and went out.

Gervase stared at the partly open door, remembered the early dinner waiting for them. He looked down at Dalziel. His erstwhile commander slowly sat up; draping his arms over his bent knees, he looked disgustedly at the footstool.

Despite all—the seriousness of the situation, the sheer hor

ror he felt over Madeline having inserted herself into the thick of their planned action and in a way that left him with no viable arguments—he felt his lips twitch.

He rapidly straightened them as Dalziel lifted his gaze, eyes narrowed, to his face.

“If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll deny it.”

Gervase couldn’t help it; he grinned. “The memory will be its own reward.”

Chapter 19

The sun went down and night closed in. It was dark and stormy, but at least it wasn’t raining. On the castle watersteps, Gervase stood by Madeline’s side, his fingers about her elbow, waiting for the larger of the castle’s rowboats, manned by a select crew of Abel’s “boys,” to draw alongside.

He’d made one—only one—attempt to dissuade Madeline. He’d followed her upstairs to change into garments more conducive to slogging through waves and then fighting on a beach; entering the bedchamber Sybil had assigned Madeline on her heels, he’d shut the door and faced her.

She’d glanced at him, then raised a brow.

He’d looked into her eyes. He understood all too well her motives in going. Admired them, and her, even though he, all he was, was in violent opposition. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know. But I have to. I can’t not go.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s not that I don’t trust you to protect Edmond—it’s because I know Edmond, and I trust him all too well to behave exactly as I said.”

He’d paused; he hadn’t thought she didn’t trust him—that hadn’t entered his mind. He’d wondered for one second if there was any leverage there…then he’d leaned his shoulders back against the door.