He made the first move, a tentative prod Kit easily pushed aside. She followed immediately with a classic counter, and was dismayed to meet the prescribed defense, perfectly executed. Two more similar exchanges sent her heart to her boots. The man could fight and fight well. The strength she sensed behind the long sword was frightening.

In growing panic, she glanced at her opponent’s face. The moon shone over her shoulder, leaving her own face in shadow. Even in the weak light, she saw the frown on the handsome face watching her. A second later, the effect of that face hit her. Kit blinked and dragged her mind and her gaze back to her blade, poised against that other. But her disobedient eyes flicked upward again, drawn by that face. She sucked in a painful breath.God, he is beautiful. Sculpted features, aquiline planes below high cheekbones, lips long and firm above a stubbornly square chin. His hair was fairish, streaked silver in the moonlight. Despite her every effort, Kit’s senses refused to bend to her will, irresponsibly continuing their dangerous detachment, roaming over the outline of the large body facing hers.

An odd sensation bloomed in Kit’s midsection, a warm weakness that sapped what little strength she had. She wondered whether it was fear of impending death. At the thought, from deep inside, she heard a laugh, a warm, rich, seductive laugh. What are you waiting for? You’ve been fantasizing about meeting a man who could do to you what George does to Amy-here he is. All you have to do is put down your rapier and step forward.

Kit’s guard wavered-she came to herself with a sickening start. In that instant, her opponent launched an attack. Her blade had nowhere near enough strength to counter the sword effectively. By dint of sheer luck and fancy footwork, she survived the first rush, her heart pounding horribly, a metallic taste in her mouth. She knew she’d never survive the second.