Page 37 of Romancing the Rifleman
Without warning, she slashed as hard as she could, knocking his sword to the side, and lunged.Her blade bent as the button buried itself in her brother’s padded coat.
The onlookers burst into cheers.Marcus ripped his mask off, scowling, a sheen of sweat on his forehead.“That’s only the first round.We’ve two more to go.”
Diana inclined her head.She had not expected this to be easy.
In the second round, her attention faltered, only for a fraction of a second, but that was all the opening Marcus needed to execute abalestra, skipping into a lunge with perfect form and skewering her in the left breast.
They retreated a few paces, both breathing hard.Anticipation was thick in the air because whoever scored the next touch would be the winner.
After a moment, they resumed their stances, and then, it began.Diana tried to focus on Marcus’s sword, to block out the cries of encouragement from her friends.It was probably for the best that only she and Marcus understood German, because the things Aunt Griselda was shouting were not considered suitable for mixed company.
He almost got through on a couple of occasions, and she found herself back on her heels, barely managing to deflect his blade.But she recovered, reset her stance, and continued her relentless series of parries.
Cracks started to form in her brother’s technique.His wrist action, always crisp and impeccable, began to slow.Diana wasn’t doing much better, truth be told.Her forearm was aflame, and she could feel her grip on her sword starting to fail.
But the one thing that never wavered was her determination.She wouldnotgive up, would never quit, no matter how much it hurt, or if she couldn’t bend her wrist for the next week.As much as she wanted to win an interlude with Harrington, this was about more than that.This was her way of showing her brother that he couldn’t push her around, couldn’t dictate the terms by which she would live her life.
So, she fought on through the pain.
And when her brother made an uncharacteristically graceless feint, she attacked.She dropped into apassata-sotto, lunging so low to the ground that she had to rest the tip of her right arm on the grass for balance.With the last of her strength, she thrust her sword up toward his exposed stomach.She couldn’t make out much of Marcus’s face through his mask, but she registered the shock in his posture as the tip of her blade struck home.
Raucous cheers surrounded her.Izzie and Lucy reached her before she could rise, almost bowling her over in their exuberance.They helped her up and she peeled off her mask.Her face was coated in sweat, and she could feel frizzy curls breaking out at her temples.
She held her breath as Marcus removed his mask, wondering how he would react to his public defeat.Would his face show rage?The icy disdain he usually reserved for others?Or what was perhaps worse, disappointment?
But when he pulled his mask off, she found his lips were twisted wryly, his expression one of pride.“That wasbrilliant, Diana.You have become such an outstanding fencer.”He crossed to her in three strides, laying a hand on her shoulder.“I’mso proudof you.”
Her smile was warm, at least, by Latimer family standards.“Thank you, Marcus.”
There was a smattering of applause.Once it died down, Diana lifted her chin.“And now, I believe I am owed a boon.”She turned her head, smiling as she found Harrington in the crowd.“Lieutenant Astley.Might I have the pleasure of your company during the picnic luncheon?”
Beside her, Marcus rolled his eyes.Diana ignored him.She couldn’t seem to look at anything but Harrington’s beaming face.
He placed a hand over his heart as he sketched an elegant bow.“I should be delighted.”
Chapter19
Harrington all but skipped as he rushed around, conferring with Anne’s servants and making arrangements for his interlude with Diana.Soon, a half dozen footmen were carrying the items he requested—a blanket, pillows, and an assortment of delicacies—up the slight hill at the edge of the lawn.The location would be perfect—within sight of the party so that no one could complain that any improprieties were taking place but removed enough for a private conversation.
Finally, Harrington begged the final item he needed from his mother.Tucking it beneath his coat, he strode over to Diana, who was downing a glass of lemonade in thirsty gulps.
He bowed deeply and offered his arm.“My lady?”
She looped her arm through his but didn’t look at him.As they made their way up the hill, she dabbed her temple with a handkerchief.“I probably look a fright.”
“You’ve never looked more beautiful.Not even on the night of your debut, when I thought you were the most gorgeous sight I’d ever beheld.”
This wasn’t empty flattery, but the truth.Although he couldn’t believe he’d said it out loud.He normally tried to conceal the extent to which he yearned for Diana.
But really, how could he hold it in?She’d been bloody magnificent.He’d always heard how talented she was at fencing, but he’d never had the chance to see her in action before today.She had reminded him of a falcon in flight—swift, light, and agile.And, when the time came to strike, deadly.
Throw in the notion that the thing she was fighting so fiercely to possess washim, and it was no wonder he was done for.Watching her, he had been overcome by the fantasy thathewas the one she was fencing against.She would drive him back, disarm him, and pin him against a wall.Then, she would order him to pleasure her.He had all but worked himself into a lather picturing her holding her sword at his throat as he drew up her skirts and fell to his knees between her trembling thighs…
Ahem.This was not the train of thought he ought to pursue, leastwise, not unless he wanted to give Diana a real eyeful should her gaze stray to the placket of his trousers.
But the point was, Diana Latimer was completely, utterly breathtaking.What chance did a poor sod like him stand?
She peered at him out of the corner of her eye, looking startled by his compliment, but not displeased.“Is that so?”
