Then Rebecca slipped her fingers around the hilt of a small tarnished sword and showed the girl that, too.
“It’s not made of wood. It’s just my size!” Lady Ava cried.
Rebecca nodded. “It is only to be used for practice.”
She handed Ava the weapon by the hilt.
“She’s wearing protection, but you are not, Mrs. Warner,” Lord Rafferty warned from the open doorway. “Are you sure that is wise?”
“Papa, look at me!”
“I’m looking.” While Lord Rafferty and his daughter admired her padding, Rebecca found the old practice dummy leaning against one corner of the room and dragged it to the middle of the open space.
Ava was quick to join her. “What’s that for?”
“Practice dummies do not bleed like your father or I will.”
Ava approached the dummy and struck it once, awkwardly. “Like that?”
“No. Here, let me show you how we do it at Stapleton.”
Rebecca took possession of the weapon, recalling the instruction she’d been given as a child. She wielded the little sword a bit awkwardly at first but soon got a feel for the blade once more. She advanced on the dummy and then danced around it, striking as often as she could.
Lady Ava was right. Swordplay was invigorating—at any age, too.
When she stopped, Lord Rafferty clapped. “Now that was a performance I would have paid to see.”
A little flustered by the compliment, Rebecca handed the girl the weapon. In her renewed joy in the sport, she had forgotten she had an audience. “It will take practice, but if you apply yourself, you might one day be competent enough to face a real opponent.”
“Let us hope not,” Lord Rafferty muttered.
She glanced his way and noticed an odd smile on his face.
That man. Perhaps it was his size, but she couldn’t look away. He was broad in the chest, more substantial than most men in every room. He had attractive features, he wasn’t pretty, but he seemed assured. Confident. Perhaps that’s what she noticed most of all about him.
He drew closer. “One of these days, you and I will have to engage in swordplay.”
“Do you think I haven’t the skill to take your blade, my lord?” she asked.
He choked, and Rebecca suddenly realized what she’d actually said had a scandalous second meaning. She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, Lord Rafferty’s expression was utterly delighted.
He advanced a step to whisper, “I know you can take me.” His lips quirked. “But we’ll never know how well we fit until you invite me to your room. Tonight?”
“Did you see me, Papa?”
Rebecca whipped around, horrified she’d forgotten the girl could be listening. “You were wonderful,” she promised quickly.
“Yes, wonderful,” Lord Rafferty agreed, moving past Rebecca with a sigh. “How about you give your papa a turn with that little thing.”
Rebecca shrank back into the shadows but kept her gaze on Rafferty as he moved.
He was still interested in her, but she had a lot to lose if he was discovered in her bedchamber, or seen leaving it later. The respect of her family was important to her. She could not throw out her morals simply for one night in Lord Rafferty’s arms without considering the future. But Rebecca couldn’t deny he tempted her.
Chapter 9
Adam looked up as the door to his bedchamber creaked open just a bit—and then he was utterly dumbfounded to see Rebecca Warner dart inside. The door shut quietly behind her, and he stood still in shock. What the devil was Rebecca doing traipsing about the manor house in her nightgown or coming into his room at this time of night?
There must be something wrong. “What is it? Is Ava all right?”