But they both ignored him, caught up in this dance of steel and skill. He sliced and parried, edging her across the room until her back hit the wall. But she refused to drop her sword, and he kept advancing until their wrists slammed together with their blades locked in a cross above her head.
She glared at him, gritting her teeth. Every inch of her seemed to be pressed against him. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest under her twee little blouse, the flutters of her heart racing from their exertions. He dipped his eyes ever so slightly down and noticed a pink color creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks.
He waggled his eyebrows. “It seems we’ve found ourselves in an interesting position after all.”
“I thought you said you were good at all of them,” she retorted.
“Indeed. Have I not left you breathless?”
“Hardly,” she scoffed, but the wheeze that accompanied the word gave her away.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing the side of her face as he whispered into her ear. “Do you surrender, Miss De Lesseps?”
“Never.” Without warning, she dropped her blade. The sound of it clattering to the ground startled him into releasing her wrist. Now free, she ducked and tumbled to the side.
Without her body beneath him to hold him up, he slammed into the wall, his face colliding with the soft fabric the studio used to muffle outside noise. “Oomph.”
Flynn caught himself with both hands, pushing his palms against the wall and turning around in time to see her grabbing her blade from the floor. She sat in a squat and spun easily on her heel, whirling the épée in a circle toward his ankles. It was a move straight out ofThe Pirate’s Mask, and his body reacted instinctually, remembering the choreography. He leapt into the air and somersaulted over her head, landing in a crouching, defensive position with his blade.
Flynn tossed his blade between his hands. “Come on, lass, give me all you’ve got.”
She blew a stray curl out of her eyes, and one corner of her mouth rose in a smug smile. “Are you sure you want that?”
“I want the best you can give me.”
She screamed in reply, as if she were an Amazon on the warpath, and ran straight toward him with her blade over her head, something wild in her eyes as she brought it down upon his head. He raised his sword horizontally, catching the blade above him. Flynn pressed up hard, holding his sword by the handle and the narrow end of the blade, careful not to slice his hand. Using his knees and his arms, he managed to push her off, sending her stumbling backwards, her butt colliding with the floor and her sword clattering to her side.
This was it. He could deliver his final blow and end this, remind her once and for all who the swashbuckler was between them. She scrambled backwards like a crab, dragging her sword with her. But just as he raised his blade to end things, she cried out.
“Rallo, now!”
From out of nowhere, the monkey leapt into the fray, throwing his tiny sword into Liv’s outstretched hand. She raised the tiny foil as if it were a dagger and caught the thrust of Flynn’s attack, pushing him back.
He looked at Rallo, his mouth agape. “You would help her over me?”
The monkey shrugged and scampered back to his perch. Olivia took advantage of Flynn’s distraction and caught the thread of his sleeve with the tip of her full-size blade and tugged hard, upward. A loud ripping sound accompanied the move, and he looked down to see the sleeve of his shirt unraveling.
She grinned, a feline hunger in her gaze. He had never in his life been so equally furious and turned on. He pawed at his sleeve with his free hand, ripping it all the way off and throwing it to the side. “This is Brooks Brothers,” he yelped. The audacity.
“I’m sure you have ten more just like it in your closet.” On each word, she attacked, a mix of cutovers and straight thrusts, using both her blade and Rallo’s tiny dagger. He hardly noticed when she tore at his other sleeve until she giggled.
“There, now you won’t get an uneven tan.”
He growled in response and ripped that sleeve off too. Their blades met and they pressed against each other again, turning in a circle as if they were dancing a tango. He felt her fumble with something against his chest. “Can’t resist me, can you?” He smirked.
“No, I just don’t want you to get the impression I’m too buttoned-up.” He looked down and realized the double meaning of her words, as Rallo’s sword cut through the threads of his shirt buttons.
She smiled and took a step back, breaking their hold. But while he was looking down, she made quick work of the front of his shirt with her sword, zigging and zagging like she was Zorro leaving her mark. As he tried to back away, helpless now, he felt himself trip over the edge of one of the practice mats Fred had set out for them.
Olivia didn’t stop though, continuing to tear his shirt to shreds and coming to stand above him, triumphant. The tip of her blade met his throat, while she clenched Rallo’s tiny sword between her teeth. And her hair, so neatly coiffed when she’d arrived, was now an unholy mess of black curls.
Flynn looked up at her, careful not to move his chin too low, lest he nick himself on her sword. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were dying to get me undressed, Miss De Lesseps.”
Her eyes flashed, but she stood her ground, grabbing Rallo’s sword from her mouth and dropping it. The monkey scampered over to reclaim his weapon. “No, Banks, only cutting you down to size.”
“Ah, exposing me?”
She blushed but didn’t falter. “I rather think you’re the one who’s exposed yourself. As an inferior swordsman.”
