Rylan and I lower our swords as Mother lifts the end of her cane and thumps it against a metal disk that hangs over the steps to the house. Thethunkof her cane against the metal makes a loud chiming noise that means all sparring comes to an instant stop. Then the countess waves us to her before returning to the interior of the manor.
I trail behind my sister, my eyes drinking in the sight of the woman who has just announced to my mother that she loves me. Although Isabeau doesn’t realize I was listening, I know Mother. She wanted me to hear that before I make my confession.
“Lady Rylan. Lady Gabrielle.” Isabeau bows to us as we approach.
“Your Grace.” Rylan curtsies, sword still in hand. She’s glistening with a thin layer of perspiration, and I make a mental reminder to ensure we do this more often so Rylan’s tolerance for battles grows longer.
“I had no idea you were so skilled in sword, too,” Isabeau says to my sister.
“My skill is minor, Your Grace. Gab is the better swordswoman. Shehasto be.” Rylan points toward me, forcing Isabeau to look at me finally.
“You are remarkable,” Isabeau manages to say steadily, although her voice sounds raspy.
Rylan lowers her voice as if sharing secrets. “If you want to fight, Gab favors undercuts and middle cuts.”
Isabeau laughs.
“Few men can best her,” Rylan adds before Isabeau can refuse. “Perhaps a woman might stand a chance, and if you’re going to convince her tolikeyou, that’s your best recourse.”
I walk away as my sister flutters her lashes and declares, “She needs someone who will stand up to her, Isabeau. The weight she carries is more than is fair. It always has been.”
I begin rotating through cuts and parries as if invisible foes are about to attack from multiple directions.
“She needs a worthy partner,” Rylan stresses. “I hope you are worthy.”
I can feel Isabeau’s gaze on me as she swears, “I would treat her well if she allowed me to marry her.”
“Interesting, Your Grace. I merely meant a partner for fencing,” Rylan says in a voice that is more laughter than words. Then, before Isabeau can defend herself, Rylan hands over her sword. “We use blunt blades for practice, but steel is still deadly even without sharp edges, so don’t fence like Gabri is a lady. She’ll still break a bone or two of yours if you aren’t fast enough ...”
Chapter 26
“But I never fled from danger ...! my sword lightened through the darkness of war. The stranger melted before me; the mighty were blasted in my presence.”
—The Poems of Ossianby James Macpherson [1773]
As Isabeau walks toward me, I let my gaze rake over her. Once the mere glimpse of her made me lose my words. Now, it sets fires burning in my body, especially after our intimate encounter. “Too noble to fence with me?”
“Fencing isn’t what I want most to do with you.” Isabeau prowls toward me. “I’ve been doing this since childhood. You may have bested a monster in the park and a few soldiers, but I am a duke. Trained to the sword since I could walk.”
“Same, Maudite. Same.” I let my sword point aim at the ground and wait. “You simply didn’t know.”
“Are thereotherthings about you that I ought to know?” Isabeau unfastens her houppelande, tossing the fur-trimmed robe aside and revealing a gambeson that covers her from shoulder to the middle of her upper leg.
I swallow a wholly inappropriate thought at the glimpse of the duke’s muscular legs.I touched those,my libido murmurs appreciatively.
“Intimidated, Lady Fleuriste?”
“Assessing you.”
Isabeau pauses, sword half raised, and asks, “Share your thoughts?”
That vulnerability that leaks out sometimes makes my stomach twist oddly. “Nothing ladylike to share, Your Grace. Of that you can be certain.”
A flash of something hard comes over Isabeau’s expression. She’s clearly misunderstood. Her chin is set as she pronounces, “I assure you, Gabrielle, that I am more than adequate ... at fencing. I did not boast untruths when last I asserted my prowess. Did I?”
“You were honest.”
Then the Duke of Maudite sets about proving her skill with a blade, attacking as if we are enemies.
