She raced over to him and he met her halfway, grasping her around the waist with his free arm and pressing his lips to hers. Her palm rested over the slick skin of his pectoral. Just as quickly as he’d kissed her, he pulled away.
His expression turned bashful, but he held her eyes. “Sorry. I’m sweaty, aren’t I?”
“I don’t entirely mind,” she said with a coy look, though she had to admit, her lips tasted like salt.
He released her waist and strode to the rack of polearms, exchanging his spear for the shirt he’d hung there. She was almost disappointed until she realized he was simply drying off. A wicked smile curved her lips. She wanted to look at him like this a little longer. Extend the playful mood he’d begun.
She swept closer to him, evading his detection while he was drying his face with his shirt. As he brought the linen article down and found her standing so close, his eyes went wide. She blinked up at him, an innocent expression as she reached for the hilt hidden behind her back.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she pulled the dagger from her golden sash and flicked it to his neck. He flinched only slightly but otherwise held perfectly still.
“Don’t let me interrupt your training, love of mine,” she said.
His eyes simmered, whether with challenge or desire she knew not. All she knew was how it tightened her belly. His lips tugged into a wry grin and he dropped his shirt to the floor. Then, in a flash of movement, he whirled away and retrieved a wooden training dagger from a nearby stand.
They circled each other, and Cora considered whether she should dive for a training blade too. But they were both skilled enough to defend themselves and know when to hold back. She made the first move, striking with her dagger, and he parried her blade with ease. Swiveling to the side, she aimed for his ribs. He caught her wrist in his hand, angled her arm behind her, and twisted her around until her back was to his chest, her knife hand between them. He pressed his practice blade beneath her chin.
“There’s something familiar about this position,” Teryn said, bringing his lips close to her ear.
She shuddered at the sound and recalled a moment from their first meeting. He’d wrenched her arm behind her that time too, pulling her against his chest, and asked her to stop trying to stab him. The closeness of his voice had caught her off guard then, but now it made her want to get even closer.
She tried to get free the same way she had then, by striking his instep with her heel. Predicting her move, he widened his stance, but he loosened his hold enough to allow her to wrench her knife hand from his grip. She whirled to face him again, striking. He parried, shifted, parried again. At her next strike, he caught her wrist and pulled her to him once more. This time, her dagger wasn’t between them, leaving her back flush to his chest. He held her wrist in place while securing his forearm over her middle. His grip was firm enough to hold her still yet soft enough to feel more like an embrace.
She didn’t struggle as he brought his lips to the lobe of her ear. Instead, she angled her head, daring him to land a blow with either his mouth or his wooden blade. Instead, he whispered, “What are you wearing, by the way?”
“You only now noticed?” To be honest, she’d only remembered her state of dress when she’d neared the hall leading to the armory. By then, she’d sensed Teryn’s proximity and hadn’t felt like changing. It was after midnight now, and Cora hadn’t come across any servants on her way to find Teryn, only her husband’s guards, who were posted outside the hall.
“Oh, I noticed. Also…” His forearm froze against her midsection. Then, angling the hand that held her wrist, he spun her away from him, and for a moment it felt more like they were dancing. He didn’t release her wrist. Instead, he angled her arm overhead, bent at the elbow, and stepped in close. His eyes swept over her form, lingering on the deep V-shaped neck of her robe. His throat bobbed. “You aren’t wearing a corset.”
She lifted her chin, her chest, letting the lay of the thin silk and the peaks it accentuated speak volumes. “I’m not.”
That surprised him enough to allow her to catch him off guard. She freed her wrist and darted a step back.
“How about this?” she said. “For every blow you land, I’ll remove an article of clothing.”
He bit his bottom lip. When he spoke, his voice came out thick. “And what if you land a—”
Before he could finish, she lunged forward and slapped his thigh with the flat of her blade. Just as quickly, she leaped back, a victorious grin on her lips. “If I land a blow, you have to do the same.”
His mouth fell open. “Did that one count?”
“It counted.” She dropped her gaze to his waistband, then fluttered her lashes at him. “So go on.”
With exaggerated reluctance, he brought the fingers of his free hand to the top button of his fly.
Cora watched with greedy anticipation—
Before she knew what was happening, he lunged forward and slapped her lightly with his wooden dagger, in the same place she’d struck him.
She squeaked in surprise, her defenses thoroughly shaken. She debated striking back, but he was already retreating.
“Looks like we’ve both landed a blow,” he said as he worked his buttons in earnest this time. Then, in a taunting tone, he echoed her earlier words. “So go on.”
With a huff, she reached under the skirt of her robe with one hand, not daring to drop her dagger, and slid her trousers down. Teryn stepped out of his bottoms, and she was disappointed to see he wore linen undershorts. Devils take those undershorts. Meanwhile, she had no underclothes at all, for Garot had only left her the robe, sash, and trousers. At least the plentiful folds of her robe’s skirt hid her bottom half, which meant she still had the more exciting view.
She charged forward, thrusting her dagger, but he parried it. She charged again. Again. His defenses had grown sharper, fiercer. It seemed he was determined to get her out of another article of clothing. Well, she wouldn’t go easy on him. She was equally as—
With a yelp, she tumbled back. She’d been so focused on striking Teryn’s wrist with the edge of her free hand, she hadn’t anticipated him sweeping out her feet. While she’d managed to force him to release his weapon, she’d lost her chance to land a blow with hers.
