The Lady Hellion by Joanna Shupe

—but what came out of his mouth was, “Did Taylor see you like this?”
    “No, I kept my cloak on until he left. Though I hardly see why that matters.”
    The idea of anyone witnessing her so . . . so revealed did not sit well. The outline of her lithe body clearly visible, it was a sight to make any man lose his mind with lust. And Quint realized, gut churning with possessiveness, that he didn’t want any man to see her. Any man save him, of course.
    “Why are you here?”
    She pulled her arms from behind her back to reveal two foils. “I thought you might like some exercise.”
    Fear replaced the stirrings of desire. Since the shooting, he hadn’t intentionally raised the rate of his heart for worry of another fit. What if exercise worsened his condition? Granted, each fit had been triggered by a specific event or thought, like an attempt to go outside or the sound of gunfire. He doubted fencing would hurt, but how could he be sure?
    “I don’t think—”
    “You are not allowed to refuse.” She executed a single feint with her right arm. “It will do you some good, in my opinion.”
    He rubbed the back of his neck and contemplated his research. If it was hereditary, as he suspected, then nothing would prevent the impending madness. Not to mention, if he fell ill, he could leave or order her from the room.
    You just want to ogle her arse in those breeches.
    Without dwelling on that last thought, he closed the distance between them, held out his hand. “Where did you get these swords?”
    “I borrowed them,” she said with a lift of her shoulder and handed him a foil.
    “And what about those clothes? Did you borrow them as well?”
    She glanced down at herself. “No, they are mine. The breeches are unbelievably comfortable. Dresses are impractical garments, especially for fencing.”
    “A duel, scuttling about the mews after dark, not to mention all the excursions with Julia over the years . . . I swear, you court danger at every turn. Has anyone the vaguest idea what you’re about?”
    She sauntered away, hips swinging, providing him with the precise view he wanted—and he froze. Saint’s teeth, his imagination had not done justice to the perfect, high roundness of her buttocks.
    “I do not require a keeper, if that is what you are implying. Now, shall we?” She spun and lifted her arm into correct position, weapon pointed at him with her front foot forward.
    “Have you fenced before?”
    “I’ve taken a few lessons at Angelo’s academy. You’ll not have an easy time besting me.”
    “Is that so?” He hefted the foil, tested the weight in his hand to get a feel for it. “Fencing is a thinking man’s—or woman’s—sport. You need to plan ahead. Not react rashly.” Lifting his arms, he stretched out his back and shoulders. “Can you keep a level head, I wonder?”
    “We may never know if you cannot cease stalling.”
    “ Allez! ” he growled and lunged at her.
    She defended his parry, and returned with a thrust of her own. He soon realized she had skill. What she lacked in strength she made up for with speed, her movements precise and quick. She obviously had not lied about the lessons, and he suspected she’d taken more than just a few. Despite his resolve to go gently with her, he soon found himself perspiring and breathing hard from the exertion. It felt . . . exhilarating.
    “You’re smiling,” she said, her breath equally labored.
    “Am I? It must be because this is so terribly easy.”
    Her eyes flashed and she began attacking him with renewed vigor. He nearly laughed. She was utterly predictable.
    “Is that the best you can do, Lady Sophia?” He led a charge of his own, driving her backward as she defended herself with the blade.
    “You’ve been holding back,” she accused, the flush on her cheeks deepening as her movements faltered.
    This time, he did laugh. “Is your shoulder burning yet?”
    “Like the fires of Hades!” she snapped, then flicked her wrist and slid