The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

“So? What has that to say to anything? It has been a great while since I’ve had a worthy opponent. I only hope I’m not to be butchered like poor Harry.”

“As long as there is a button on the tip, you have no need to worry.” She rewarded him with a dimpled smile.

Julien moved swiftly away from her to the center of the room and presented his side, his foil unwaveringly straight, in salute.

“En garde, madam!”

“En garde!” she repeated with great delight and thrust her own foil forward.

Their foils clashed in the silent room with a ring of steel. Since he wasn’t sure of her ability, he controlled the speed and power of his thrusts, at least at first. He discovered very quickly, as he parried lunge after lunge, that she was an aggressive fencer. She held herself perfectly straight, her form excellent. She appeared to have no fear whatsoever and executed the most daring of maneuvers. No wonder she had rolled up poor Harry. He smiled as he tested for areas of weakness. Her foil was like her tongue, quick, sharp, and quite spontaneous. He slipped through her guard, drew up short, and pulled back. She merely laughed and in a quick flurry skipped forward and drove him back with rapid steps to the corner of the room. Their foils locked together for a moment before Julien, with a practiced flick of his wrist, sent her foil spinning from her grasp to the floor. She looked momentarily surprised, laughed at herself, and hurried to retrieve the foil. As she bent forward, the bruise on her thigh, to this point not all that painful, sent a flash of pain through her leg. She quickly averted her head and gritted her teeth, cursing the leg and the peasant who had struck her.

Julien saw the tiny furrow of pain on her forehead and instantly drew up and dropped his foil to his side. But then he thought he must have been mistaken, for when she straightened, her face glistening with sweat and her foil held securely once more in her hand, she shot him a dazzling smile and cried gaily, “I do believe you’re just a bit better than Harry. And now, my lord,” she added, advancing on him, “I defy you to catch me so unawares again with your paltry tricks.”

“Better than even Harry? Such praise, it surely warms my cockles. As for my tricks, let’s see just how quickly I catch you napping again.”

As Kate lunged forward, shifting her weight onto the leg, another surge of pain distorted her face, and she clamped her lips together tightly to stifle the cry that threatened to escape. She drew up and turned about. “It’s been a long day, Julien. Though you have soundly thrashed me tonight, I shall seek redress tomorrow. You’ll see that I’m not so easily vanquished.”

“That I caught you off your guard for a moment doesn’t constitute a thrashing. Redress you shall certainly have.” He added with undisguised pride in his voice, “I’ve indeed been granted a most worthy opponent, even though you’re naught but a female.” He grinned at her.

“You’re kind,” she blurted out, feeling suddenly strangely inadequate to express what she felt at his praise. She walked with great care to the desk to place her foil in the open case.

He strode to her with the express intent of placing his foil beside hers. To his chagrin, she misunderstood his motive and backed away so quickly that she stumbled into the desk chair. His jaw tightened. His open, confiding Kate was gone behind a mask of fear. He turned his back to her and began carefully to cover the foils with the velvet cloth. He said in a rigidly controlled voice, “It’s getting quite late and you have had a rather strenuous day. I will see you in the morning.”

There was no response. He turned to see her clutching the back of the chair, her face as white as her shirt.

“Go to bed, damn you!” Why the devil didn’t she move? Was she trying to taunt him?

25

“I would, it’s just that, well, the fact is that just for the moment, only this particular instant, I can’t walk.” She lowered her head, near to tears with embarrassment and she didn’t want him to see it.