Her eyes were large and so very—
“Hello?” she asked with a sharp snap of her tongue when he didn’t answer her. “What are you doing sneaking up behind me? And didn’t you think I’d hear andsmellyour horse?” He opened his mouth to speak but her eyes, like storm-filled skies growing darker and more menacing as they bore into him, quieted him.
“How long have you been back there, following me? What are you, a creep?”
Creep?
“A stalker?” she went on. “Because let me warn you right now, I’m not like the other girls here. I’ll fight you.”
He felt a stirring to smile, but even this beautiful woman couldn’t lure him on a path he didn’t want to travel. Nothing ever made him happy for long. Half the women he knew wanted to mother him, the other half wanted to tame him. A mother was the one thing hedidn’twant. And taming him…well, he wouldn’t be tamed by anyone. His father knew it well enough. So did anyone else who tried to mold him into someone he wasn’t.
He let any traces of humor or softness fade from his expression. “The same way you fought my men?”
He thought he saw tendrils of smoke puff out of her nose. “Yes.”
“I can assure you,” he warned with thunder in his own eyes, “I won’t be so easily defeated.”
“Good,” she told him. “I like a challenge.”
He quirked his mouth. It wasn’t really a smile, but more like a mocking smirk. “You have courage, little lion. Is that why you’re walking out here alone? If so, you’re a fool if you think you can fight against a man and his sword.”
“What’s my alternative, Marquess? Lay back and let some—”
He leaped out of the saddle, landing like a lithe cat and took a step toward her. “I am not some scoundrel,” he replied calmly, though inside the seas were stirring. This conversation with her felt familiar with him trying to defend himself. He would find out what she wanted and then leave and forget her. “Why were you looking for me?”
“What?” She blinked and the storms were swept away leaving clear, blue eyes. Then her cheeks slowly grew pink in the cold—or her temper. “Oh, right. I wanted to tell you that I won’t be a prisoner here. I’ll come and go as I please until I find my way home. Release your men from their station. Yes, I know it’s dangerous here, so I’ll ask Will to come with me next time.”
Gray looked around for Gable, then cast her a doubtful look.
“I told him not to follow me. I was angry about you trying to keep me here.”
“Why were you angry about that? Even though that’s not why I stationed the men there. But if I had, wouldn’t it simply mean I know what kind of world it is and I would keep you safe?”
“I would appreciate that, but I don’t need you to watch my back. So, I would have to decline your protection.”
“Why?”
“For a lot of reasons. I don’t know you, for one. I can protect myself. I grew up in New York City.”
At this, he gave her a confused look. She didn’t clarify.
“Mostly because your protection feels like you’re keeping me in, not keeping the bad guys out. As I’ve said, I don’t like that.”
He stared at her. Damnation, she was stubborn. He didn’t particularly care for stubborn people, women especially. This one insulted him every time she opened her mouth. He also knew she was lying about where she came from.NewYorkCity?Gray’s father knew the duke of York. It would be simple for Gray to do a little investigating. But why should he? Did he really care where she came from? Still, he should prove to her that she, in fact, did need protection.
While she was still speaking, he drew his sword. He was quick, intending to grab her and hold the blade’s edge to her throat.
But in one fluid movement, she snapped her coat off and swept her foot across his ankles.
He sat there in the grass on the road, on his arse. He looked up at her with a silken side smirk and he came up gracefully, using only his feet. Facing her, he tossed away his sword and reached for her. She kicked his hands away, fascinating him with her skillfully evasive maneuvers. He grabbed. She kicked. He smacked her boots away. She tried to kick him in his groin. He stepped back just in time and glared at her. But he wasn’t angry. He was impressed and curious about her.
“Where did you learn to fight?” he asked, staying back.
“I took classes with my brother.”
Who taught women how to fight, because it was clear that someone had indeed taught her. “Are you going to tell me where you came from?” he pressed. “Are you a witch?” When she gasped, he was quick to hold up his hands and correct her. “I don’t care if you’re a witch.”
“I’m not!” she snapped. “And you could get me killed with that kind of question.”