woman !"
Andrew rounded on her, fists clenched, eyes blazing. "So, inviting three hundred people to watch this debacle was your idea?"
"But of course. I wanted added insurance that you would not back out."
Nearby, the duke of Blackheath was idly rubbing his mouth, trying without success to contain a helpless smirk as he regarded Andrew's rapidly escalating plight.
"Of course, she did have the smallest bit of help," he allowed.
"I am not doing this," Andrew snarled. "I am not ."
Again he turned and, bristling with fury, stormed back toward the coach. Celsie's heart fell. Murmurs of disappointment echoed all around.
She would not let him humiliate her a second time.
She waited until he was nearly back to the carriage. And then:
"For all the brains you supposedly possess, you, my Lord Andrew, are naught but a coward!"
That stopped him dead in his tracks. For a moment he just stood there, seething, refusing to turn around.
"Had it been a man you found here today, you would not be so quick to retreat," she accused, her voice ringing out for all to hear. "But no. Because I am a woman, you deny me the respect you would have given my brother had he been here instead. Because I am a woman, you think I cannot match you over two silly strips of steel. Because I am a woman, you think I am incapable of defending my own honor. Well then, go ahead and take yourself back to your laboratory, my Lord Andrew." She tossed her head, letting her contempt, her bitter disappointment, show in her eyes. "Maybe all the rumors about you are correct, after all."
Slowly, he turned around. " What rumors?"
She smiled. "Rumors that you don't particularly like women," she challenged, her eyes hard with anger. "If you know what I mean."
Andrew felt every blood vessel in his head starting to throb. He felt every artery in his body constricting dangerously. And he felt what control he had left on his temper getting ready to explode.
"I should think ," he ground out in a voice that had gone deadly soft with menace, "that my behavior toward you yesterday would dispute any such codswallop you might feel compelled to believe."
"Your behavior towards me yesterday is the sole reason we are both standing here —" she bowed mockingly — "my lord." She turned slightly, flashed a wide, white smile to the grumbling crowd — and came sauntering toward him. Andrew tensed. She had drawn her sword. She was not backing down. She came right up in front of him, stopping so close that he could look down and see the way her breasts pushed against her shirt, taut and firm and high, and the little valley between them. And then she lightly touched the point of her sword to his chin, forcing his gaze away from her bosom, forcing him to slowly raise his head until he looked down at her, his eyes glittering from beneath lowered lashes. "Prove to everyone here that the rumors are not true —" she smiled — "and that you care more for a lady's respect than you do for a lifeless jumble of chemicals, compounds, and solutions."
Andrew, the point of her sword still held firmly to his jaw, clenched his fists and shut his eyes, trying to contain his rising fury. Yes, the explosion was coming. He could feel it. God help him, he could.
And then, over by the coach, Lucien cleared his throat.
"I say," he called, black eyes gleaming. "The most marvelous idea has just occurred to me."
Celsie and Andrew were still locked eye to eye in glaring combat. Neither one moved.
"And what is this marvelous idea, Your Grace?" Celsie bit out, never taking her gaze from Andrew's, or the point of her sword from his chin.
"I do believe my brother just might be afraid of killing you. Or of being killed by you. Therefore, I propose that the two of you go ahead and fight until first blood only, for benefit of both the crowd and your ladyship's own wounded pride."
"The idea has merit," Celsie ground out.
"And furthermore, I
Andrew rounded on her, fists clenched, eyes blazing. "So, inviting three hundred people to watch this debacle was your idea?"
"But of course. I wanted added insurance that you would not back out."
Nearby, the duke of Blackheath was idly rubbing his mouth, trying without success to contain a helpless smirk as he regarded Andrew's rapidly escalating plight.
"Of course, she did have the smallest bit of help," he allowed.
"I am not doing this," Andrew snarled. "I am not ."
Again he turned and, bristling with fury, stormed back toward the coach. Celsie's heart fell. Murmurs of disappointment echoed all around.
She would not let him humiliate her a second time.
She waited until he was nearly back to the carriage. And then:
"For all the brains you supposedly possess, you, my Lord Andrew, are naught but a coward!"
That stopped him dead in his tracks. For a moment he just stood there, seething, refusing to turn around.
"Had it been a man you found here today, you would not be so quick to retreat," she accused, her voice ringing out for all to hear. "But no. Because I am a woman, you deny me the respect you would have given my brother had he been here instead. Because I am a woman, you think I cannot match you over two silly strips of steel. Because I am a woman, you think I am incapable of defending my own honor. Well then, go ahead and take yourself back to your laboratory, my Lord Andrew." She tossed her head, letting her contempt, her bitter disappointment, show in her eyes. "Maybe all the rumors about you are correct, after all."
Slowly, he turned around. " What rumors?"
She smiled. "Rumors that you don't particularly like women," she challenged, her eyes hard with anger. "If you know what I mean."
Andrew felt every blood vessel in his head starting to throb. He felt every artery in his body constricting dangerously. And he felt what control he had left on his temper getting ready to explode.
"I should think ," he ground out in a voice that had gone deadly soft with menace, "that my behavior toward you yesterday would dispute any such codswallop you might feel compelled to believe."
"Your behavior towards me yesterday is the sole reason we are both standing here —" she bowed mockingly — "my lord." She turned slightly, flashed a wide, white smile to the grumbling crowd — and came sauntering toward him. Andrew tensed. She had drawn her sword. She was not backing down. She came right up in front of him, stopping so close that he could look down and see the way her breasts pushed against her shirt, taut and firm and high, and the little valley between them. And then she lightly touched the point of her sword to his chin, forcing his gaze away from her bosom, forcing him to slowly raise his head until he looked down at her, his eyes glittering from beneath lowered lashes. "Prove to everyone here that the rumors are not true —" she smiled — "and that you care more for a lady's respect than you do for a lifeless jumble of chemicals, compounds, and solutions."
Andrew, the point of her sword still held firmly to his jaw, clenched his fists and shut his eyes, trying to contain his rising fury. Yes, the explosion was coming. He could feel it. God help him, he could.
And then, over by the coach, Lucien cleared his throat.
"I say," he called, black eyes gleaming. "The most marvelous idea has just occurred to me."
Celsie and Andrew were still locked eye to eye in glaring combat. Neither one moved.
"And what is this marvelous idea, Your Grace?" Celsie bit out, never taking her gaze from Andrew's, or the point of her sword from his chin.
"I do believe my brother just might be afraid of killing you. Or of being killed by you. Therefore, I propose that the two of you go ahead and fight until first blood only, for benefit of both the crowd and your ladyship's own wounded pride."
"The idea has merit," Celsie ground out.
"And furthermore, I
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