7. Chapter 7
Ines
With Salvador noticeably absent for dinner and not inside the casa when the butler locks up for the evening, I decide tonight is the best, and possibly only, opportunity to sneak out and pay Senor Montenegro a long, overdue visit.
It's torturous to wait until the house is dark and everyone is tucked warmly into their beds before I don the black pants, blouse and cape I was wearing when I first arrived to sneak over the garden wall.
All I want to do is crawl under my blanket and doze into a deep, restful sleep, but I know if I don't go tonight, I might not get the chance to later.
And I hate tossing and turning every night knowing he's sleeping peacefully in his mansion, while those he believes are beneath him live and die in misery due to his cruelty.
Unlike Dona Otero, I am not patient enough to bide my time for decades before enacting my revenge.
With it nearing midnight, I slip out onto my balcony and give the property a once over.
I don't spot any of the workers and the lights inside the house all appear to be snuffed out.
Apart from a few lanterns lighting the garden pathway, the only source of guidance comes from the city itself where the Night and Entertainment Districts are still in full swing.
Carefully and quietly, I sit on the iron guardrails before swinging my legs over to the other side.
Being on the second floor makes it easy for me to slip down the metal bars and drop to the ground below.
I've learned, after years of practice, to be light on my feet even when I fall, so when my boots hit the gravel there's barely a sound.
Waiting a second to ensure no one is stirring in or outside the house, I walk through the manicured garden, past shrubberies in forms of animals and rose bushes that even the Soberano would covet.
I find myself standing in front of a private sitting area with an eight-foot-tall adobo wall covered in ivy.
The hair on the back of my neck stands at attention. I scan the garden, sensing eyes on me but find I'm alone.
I twist my fingers around the ivy vine and begin my ascent.
If all goes well, I'll be back within a couple of hours, and no one will be the wiser.
My hands curl over the top of the smooth stone surface and just as I heave myself upward, a voice slices through the darkness and draws a long, exhausted sigh from my lips.
"Going somewhere, Vibora?"
I could make a run for it, forgo permission and ask forgiveness upon my return, but I know from our daily interactions how tenacious Salvador is. He'd hunt me down and drag me back to face Otero's wrath.
I slide down the wall and rest my palms against the stone, close my eyes, and inhale deeply before turning around to face him. "I thought you were out."
"I was. I'm back now." He tilts his head to the side, hands clasped behind his back. He takes a heavy step toward me. "I'll ask once more, are you going somewhere?"
"Thought I'd get a little fresh air."
"I see." He brings his arms forward and presses the tip of his rapier – which was hidden from my sight – into the gravel. "Perhaps, it would be easier to open your window than scale walls at midnight."
Ignoring his comment, I point to his weapon. "Are you planning to use that?"
He shrugs his shoulder lazily. "If I must."
"You'll need more than that rapier to stop me," I scoff, amused by his non-intimidating tactics.
Salvador clicks his tongue. "Doubtful."
"You flatter yourself."
"Tell you what, Vibora. I'll make you a deal." He takes another step toward me, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "If I best you in a duel, there will be no more unsupervised late-night rendezvous in the city."
I match his step with one of my own. "And when I kick your ass?"
He smiles down at me and says so lowly I almost miss it. "I'll give you a friendly boost over the wall. Do we have a deal?"
"Your funeral." I unsheathe my rapier, and to his credit, the sudden movement doesn't rattle him.
His eyes dart to my hips. "Your pistols."
"What about them?"
He jerks his chin toward the garden table. "Put them down."
Cocking my head to the side, I purse my lips to keep from grinning like a fool. "Afraid I'll shoot you?" I tease.
He shakes his head, but his eyes remain fast on mine. "Afraid you'd shoot me to win."
"I resent that comment." My nostrils flare. "I may be a lot of things, but I've never cheated in a duel."
"There's a first time for everything."
I grit my teeth. "Fine." Although, the notion he fears I would cheat to win, when I know I can best him with my eyes closed, boils my blood, I wrench my pistols free from their holsters and place them on the black garden table.
"Happy?" I ask, stepping away from them to take my dueler's stance ten paces in front of him.
"Very."
Typically, I don't like waiting for my opponent to get the drop on me, so I strike first, thrusting my rapier out toward his chest, but he easily blocks the blow and swipes my blade to the side.
My left brow lifts and I smirk, excited for the first bit of physical activity I've seen in months.
I shift to my right, and he matches the movement until we're circling across from one another.
His eyes are trained on mine, but his thoughts are hidden from me. He carries himself with confidence, a presence that would rattle all who oppose him. But not me. I know my abilities and he doesn't stand a chance.
I lunge forward, jabbing my sword at him, instigating a second bout.
He engages, and the clash of our blades echoes as we parry. He's quick on his feet and his reflexes are impeccable, I'll give him that.
Dropping to my knees to avoid the swipe of his rapier, I spin my back to him and slide my weapon behind me to block the attack. I sweep my leg out, but he hops over the kick.
Our swords meet again. When one of us moves forward, the other retreats. This isn't so much a duel as it is a dance. There is a fluidity and grace in our combined movement – a battle of wills.
Finally, I see an opening and I take it.
I plunge my rapier toward his arm and slice his sleeve. I don't draw blood; my intent is not to harm him.
He pauses to glance at the flayed fabric.
Despite the mask covering most of his face, I can't help but imagine the smirk he sports is highlighted by crow's feet alongside his golden-brown eyes.
"You're skilled," he says, wiping imaginary dirt from his ruined sleeve.
"You seem surprised."
"I am." He takes his stance once more, tossing his rapier from his right hand to his left. "Let's see if you can keep up."
As if he has been toying with me this entire time, the speed of which he moves accelerates and he becomes more aggressive in his attack.
I find myself on the defense – not at all what I'm used to.
I hop up onto the garden table where my pistols rest but make no attempt to grab them.
Salvador lunges forward.
I flip over him, slicing the back of his shirt as I land behind him.
Pointing my rapier at him, he slowly rotates to face me.
"Twice now I could have drawn blood, but I have restrained. Do you yield, Senor? You are clearly outmatched."
A laugh laced with predatorial danger escapes him.
Those sharp and calculating eyes are pinned on mine and it's almost as if he is now allowing me to read every thought running through his mind.
I've not only surprised him, but I've ruffled his feathers, intrigued him, and dare I say, impressed him with my skill.
He's most likely not used to anyone, much less a woman, besting him with a blade.
Victory over him will taste delicious.
His head slants to the side and dark locks fall over his forehead with the motion. "You're quite cocky, Vibora."
The pet name used to bother me, but tonight, it invigorates me. "I believe I've earned the right to be cocky."
"What is the old proverb" – he stabs his rapier into the ground and fiddles with his black leather gloves – "pride comes before a fall?"
There's a slight uptick in the corner of my mouth. "Something like that."
He tucks his boot beneath the tip of his sword and kicks it upward, catching it and pointing it at me. "Prepare to fall."
Slicing downward, I barely manage to block him in time.
He whips around me, not deterred by the defensive maneuver. As he spins, he slices his blade across my upper thigh, ripping into my pants.
Before I have a second to examine the tear, he slashes in several strategic places across my bodice.
I twist to face him, and the sudden movement dislodges the fabric of my shirt. The pieces scatter across the ground, exposing my torso.
Thankfully, my long locks cover my breasts – denying his hungry gaze from a sight that would no doubt be imprinted in his brain for the rest of his life.
I aim to retaliate.
He pops my rapier from my grasp and presses his forearm to my chest, pinning me to the very stone wall I attempted to scale minutes ago.
Our breathing is labored – not from exertion, we're far too active to be exhausted from a few minutes of sparring – but because of how close we are to one another.
His face is within inches of mine and his lips hover temptingly above mine.
His sleeve is barely hanging on from where I cut it but the damage pales in comparison to me being half-naked.
His forearm hasn't moved from its place just above my breasts where my heart thunders beneath his touch.
To his credit, his eyes haven't dipped lower than my chin.
My skin suddenly feels as if I've been set aflame under his scrutinizing, unwavering gaze.
At this point, I'm not sure if I'm attracted to him or just full-blown enraged that he managed to beat me, but before I can sift through my true thoughts and feelings, he leans closer until his mouth grazes the tip of my ear.
"Yield" – he growls, his sultry voice drips like honey in my ear – "or you'll be walking inside naked."
"You wouldn't be the first man to see me naked, Senor."
My sarcasm draws him back, propelling him to take two steps away from me and press the tip of his blade between my breasts.
Slowly, tantalizing, he swirls the steel in my hair before dragging the tip down the center of my stomach, past my belly button, and settles at the top of the waistband of my trousers.
I pant, chest rising and falling under the wicked gleam in his eyes.
"Last chance, Vibora," he swallows hard, as he rasps. "Yield."
I should take him up on his courteous offer. The last thing I want is to be standing naked in front of him, but my stubborn pride won't allow those defeatist words to seep from my lips. I tilt my chin higher, defiant to the end. "I do not yield."
He smiles, as if he expected that response and is fully prepared to go through with his threat. "A quality I admire."
A loud, slow clap suddenly echoes across the garden, drawing our attention to the second-floor balcony where Dona Otero applauds in her silk nightgown.
Her hair isn't in her expected updo, but lies flat against her chest in a long, white braid.
Instead of harnessing the appearance of the powerful matriarch she is, she almost looks girlish.
"Well, that was invigorating to behold," she says once her applause ceases. "Quite entertaining."
It's then my cheeks redden remembering my disheveled state.
Salvador sighs, sheathing his rapier. "Did we wake you, Dona?"
"Hardly. I've been sitting in my bed for the last half hour trying to read this book," she waves the leatherbound tome around haphazardly. "But watching you two dance is far more interesting."
I know without a tremor of doubt in my heart, had Dona Otero not interrupted us, Salvador would have my pants in tatters, and I'd be forced to walk inside completely naked.
Before she can ask me any impertinent questions or chastise me for my unladylike behavior, I hold my head high, grab my rapier off the gravel pathway and my pistols from the table, and march back to the house.
My shoulder brushes Salvador's but neither one of us speaks.
"Goodnight, Ines," Dona Otero teases as I traipse to the door. "I'm sure your dreams will be sweet tonight."
I don't honor her insinuation with a response, but when I do finally lay down for the evening, I find sleep cruelly eludes me.
My thoughts wander to what would have happened had she not interrupted, and I hate myself for being excited by the thought of Salvador's rough hands sliding over every inch of my bare skin.
I groan into my pillow. Tomorrow is going to be insufferable.