Chapter Six #2
His men cleared the deck and she turned to her ship where the older man held her rapier.
“Bring it over,” she commanded.
He stood still, staring at the blade. “And if I don’t?”
She brought her hands to her hips. “You should know better. Twenty lashes.”
He lifted his head and Christian almost felt pity for the fool and the look of agony on his face. Almost.
“I would take them.” The man’s voice was quiet.
With a huff, she threw her hands in the air and turned her back to him. “Then I’ll borrow a blade from one of the lieutenant’s men.”
The pirate cursed and grabbed a rope, landing on the Falcon’s deck a moment later. When she turned to face him, he shoved the slender sword at her. She took it and he grabbed her shoulder.
“You better win, or there will be hell to pay.” His fingers flexed and she winced.
A stab of anger shot through Christian. He closed the distance between them and pushed the old man away. “Touch her again, and I’ll finish the job I started last time we met.”
The man lifted his lips in a snarl but backed away. Christian nodded to two of his men who immediately flanked the pirate. His focus was drawn back to . . . he pressed his lips together, not sure what to call her.
She did not notice his attention and ran her fingers up and down her blade with reverent affection. For a split second, he imagined those fingers stroking him the same way. He hardened at the erotic picture. With a shake of his head, he cleared his throat. No distractions.
“What’s your name?”
She went stiff. “It’s not for you to know.”
“Then what shall I call you?”
“You may call me Captain.”
He shook his head. “You may play at captain, but you can’t fool me.”
Behind her mask, her eyes widened a fraction. Enough for him to know he was right. He’d wager a large amount that the man his crew held at the railing only feet away was the true captain. So, what did that make her?
His daughter, indulging in a whim? Did pirates even care about their children?
Clearly not, if this was any indication.
The whole situation made no sense. Why let her fight him?
What would the old man gain? Certainly, any of the men on board the ship stood a greater chance at beating him than she would.
Isaac approached and drew Christian aside. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Weren’t you the one to suggest a warm body might do me good?”
“I certainly didn’t mean this.” The officer kept his voice low. “Just say the word. If we take their captain,” he nodded toward the glowering old man, “we can force their surrender.”
Christian gave his friend an approving glance. Isaac was smarter than most of his crew combined. He should follow his officer’s advice and end this game before it started. With a swallow, he turned back to her.
She bent to inspect the laces on her boot and her breeches stretched tight across her supple bottom. His men stared openly, and Christian narrowed his eyes.
“No.” He stripped his jacket off and tossed it to Isaac. “I’ll play her silly game.”
It was high time this wench learned a lesson. He strode out to meet her and she stood. She stared at him for a moment, then unbuttoned her own jacket. She threw it to Isaac and Christian struggled to find his breath.
In the sun, the flimsy fabric of her shirt left little to the imagination. His eyes followed the soft curve of her side up to the swell of her breasts.
God help him.
Her blouse stretched taut across her chest, exposing a generous amount of cleavage above the linen and his mouth went dry.
He shouldn’t want her. But his body betrayed him.
He wanted to drag her from the circle and take her straight to his cabin—away from the prying eyes of his men—where he could peel those ridiculous clothes off.
“En garde.” She lifted her rapier and settled into a fighting stance.
He copied the movement. “I think I’ll call you Red.” His voice came out gravelly and her teeth flashed in a smile.
“How original.”
In a burst of speed, she feigned right before thrusting to his left. His weak side. He parried the blow and the fight began.
Christian came at her, using his height and strength to his advantage, but her feet moved in a blur and she evaded his thrusts. As they circled each other, he couldn’t help but appreciate her skill. Each step he took, each move he made, she reacted with precision. And she was fast.
Her blade snaked out and he twisted away. A soft tear reached his ears and he glanced down at his arm. His shirt flapped open from where she’d cut it.
How?
With a shake of his head, he circled once more.
Time to find her weakness.
But she hid whatever disadvantage she might have. Her footwork kept him moving. No faults there. Her eyes stayed on his face, not his sword. Smart.
She held her blade in her right hand, so her left side would be her weak side. A good place to start chipping away at her defenses.
He grunted and jumped forward in an attack, cutting his blade down. With a movement too fast for him to catch, her rapier changed hands. She caught his blow and deflected it in one smooth motion.
Christian’s jaw went slack. He’d never seen anything like it.
“Who taught you?”
She grinned at the awe in his voice and came at him. He wasn’t used to facing a left-handed opponent and his first few blocks came awkwardly.
“Why, Lieutenant? Are you in need of lessons?” She switched hands again and dealt an impressive cut for her size.
He’d thought she’d won on a fluke last time. Not a fluke. She was a worthy opponent. She could win this.
But she wouldn’t.
Last time, he’d been exhausted from the battle before she showed up. This time, he would outlast her. No matter her skill, she didn’t have his muscle.
She would tire.
And he would claim victory.
Minutes dragged on and with each thrust he made, he sapped her of precious strength. Soon, her shoulders heaved and sweat dripped down her chest into the valley between her breasts. Don’t look.
Too late.
She sensed his distraction and switched her tactic, pressing forward with a thrust from down low. He slid to the side and her blade narrowly missed his thigh. She kept moving, forcing him to turn into the sun.
He squinted at where she had settled into a crouch near the mainmast. Her blade wavered for a split second and she stretched her arm. He grinned.
It wouldn’t be long now.
“Give it up, Red. You know how this ends.”
His men laughed. “Finish the wench off,” one of them shouted.
With a shake of her head, she tossed her braid over her shoulder and faced him. She wouldn’t give up. Respect flared as she tightened her grip on the hilt. She was going to rush him.
Valiant, but it would be her doom.
He would end this now.
Muscles coiled, he waited for her to move first. When she launched forward, he leaped to meet her. His fingers tightened around his hilt as he took in the determination in her eyes, the way her muscles bunched beneath the leather of her breeches. She flew at him like a warrior goddess.
He kept his sword tucked close to his side, ready to flick it out and capture hers. One of his favorite moves. She kept her blade aimed straight at his heart as she approached. Confident determination shone across her face.
Just before they met, he pushed off the deck with his left foot and extended his arm to disarm her.
But his boot slipped. And with no way to stop his momentum, he pitched forward.
Time slowed to a crawl as he tried and failed to catch himself. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he heard Isaac’s panicked shout, but Christian could only think one thing: He was going to die.
Red’s eyes went wide and he braced himself for the bite of steel while her blade continued its deadly plunge.
The bite never came.
Instead, she let out a strangled cry and did the impossible. In less time than he could blink, she twisted her wrist and released her grip—sending the sword flying.
With a clatter, the rapier bounced harmlessly at his side and she slammed into his chest. The impact sent them both reeling backward. She tried to pivot away, but he was already reacting.
His arm closed around her chest and he yanked her back to him. Before she could struggle, he jerked his sword up and pressed the blade to her neck.