“You may call me Captain.”
He shook his head. “You may play at captain, but you can’t fool me.”
Behind her mask, her eyes widened a fraction. Enough for him to know he was right. He’d wager a large amount that the man his crew held at the railing only feet away was the true captain. So, what did that make her?
His daughter, indulging in a whim? Did pirates even care about their children? Clearly not, if this was any indication. The whole situation made no sense. Why let her fight him? What would the old man gain? Certainly, any of the men on board the ship stood a greater chance at beating him than she would.
Isaac approached and drew Christian aside. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Weren’t you the one to suggest a warm body might do me good?”
“I certainly didn’t mean this.” The officer kept his voice low. “Just say the word. If we take their captain,” he nodded toward the glowering old man, “we can force their surrender.”
Christian gave his friend an approving glance. Isaac was smarter than most of his crew combined. He should follow his officer’s advice and end this game before it started. With a swallow, he turned back to her.
She bent to inspect the laces on her boot and her breeches stretched tight across her supple bottom. His men stared openly, and Christian narrowed his eyes.
“No.” He stripped his jacket off and tossed it to Isaac. “I’ll play her silly game.”
It was high time this wench learned a lesson. He strode out to meet her and she stood. She stared at him for a moment, thenunbuttoned her own jacket. She threw it to Isaac and Christian struggled to find his breath.
In the sun, the flimsy fabric of her shirt left little to the imagination. His eyes followed the soft curve of her side up to the swell of her breasts.
God help him.
Her blouse stretched taut across her chest, exposing a generous amount of cleavage above the linen and his mouth went dry. He shouldn’t want her. But his body betrayed him. He wanted to drag her from the circle and take her straight to his cabin—away from the prying eyes of his men—where he could peel those ridiculous clothes off.
“En garde.” She lifted her rapier and settled into a fighting stance.
He copied the movement. “I think I’ll call you Red.” His voice came out gravelly and her teeth flashed in a smile.
“How original.”
In a burst of speed, she feigned right before thrusting to his left. His weak side. He parried the blow and the fight began.
Christian came at her, using his height and strength to his advantage, but her feet moved in a blur and she evaded his thrusts. As they circled each other, he couldn’t help but appreciate her skill. Each step he took, each move he made, she reacted with precision. And she was fast.
Her blade snaked out and he twisted away. A soft tear reached his ears and he glanced down at his arm. His shirt flapped open from where she’d cut it.
How?
With a shake of his head, he circled once more.
Time to find her weakness.
But she hid whatever disadvantage she might have. Her footwork kept him moving. No faults there. Her eyes stayed on his face, not his sword. Smart.
She held her blade in her right hand, so her left side would be her weak side. A good place to start chipping away at her defenses.
He grunted and jumped forward in an attack, cutting his blade down. With a movement too fast for him to catch, her rapier changed hands. She caught his blow and deflected it in one smooth motion.
Christian’s jaw went slack. He’d never seen anything like it.
“Who taught you?”
She grinned at the awe in his voice and came at him. He wasn’t used to facing a left-handed opponent and his first few blocks came awkwardly.
“Why, Lieutenant? Are you in need of lessons?” She switched hands again and dealt an impressive cut for her size.
