London, England
1862
Storm stared at Skye as she slowly descended down the staircase. She had managed to surprise him again, this time in tight breeches, boots and a tight shirt that molded her full breasts. Her hair was long, loose and tied back.
"What is the point of your choice of dress, sweetie?" Storm asked, admiring her shapely body.
"I can hardly practice dressed in a skirt, can I? Breeches allow me comfort and freedom of movement. They also make it easier for you to pretend I am a man."
He raised his eyebrows. "Why the devil would I want to pretend that you are a man?"
"So you won't treat me like a female and coddle me as a weakling."
She was mistaken if she thought for one instant that he could ever think of her as a man. Those clothes only called attention to the lithe, feminine curves of her legs, hips, and the gentle swells of her breasts.
"You are just doing it to distract me. Maybe even start a scandal," Storm told her.
She gave a low, delighted laugh. "I confess that you are right. You don't want a woman who is not independent, who wears dresses all the time. Maybe be scandalous at the same time."
Storm shook his head. Skye's scandalous attire didn't bother him in the least. In fact, he enjoyed it. Finding a woman who was more rebellious in nature than he was, was the best thing that could have happened to him. "You will find that I'm more broadminded than most people. I don't mind at all at the way you dress and I will not dictate your wardrobe when we are married."
"I will not wed you, but I'm willing to be your mistress. If I'll be your mistress, then I have more freedom to leave whenever you grow tired of me, or me growing tired of you. Society would then brand me a Jezebel."
"I don't really care about society. You will marry me, Skye. And when we are married, you'll most likely be called an eccentric. As my wife, you will enjoy much more freedom than you are permitted now as a gorgeous, unmarried young lady. And I can assure you, life with me would not be dull."
He followed her into the living room, admiring the gentle sway of her derriere. She led him into a large room. The floor was clear of any furniture. The carpet was rolled up.
"Will this do for my lesson?" Skye asked.
"It will do just fine."
Storm shut the door behind him, turned the key in the lock. This was a rare opportunity to be alone with his unwilling future wife, and he wanted no interruptions. He intended to give her much more than a fencing lesson. For all her passionate nature, she was sexually inexperienced and needed an awakening. Since she was against marrying him in fear that he would turn out like her father, teaching her about pleasure, he thought, would soften her defenses and make her more willing to wed him.
He withdrew a long, slim foil, and let her examine the fencing instrument. Then he showed her the proper position; right arm extended, foil raised, left arm bent upward. Next he demonstrated the basic elements; thrust and parry, feint, riposte, recovery, counter-parry, lunge, and had her practice each technique.
Storm enjoyed touching her frequently. He admired Skye for catching on quickly because of her agility and natural athleticism.
Lastly, he stood opposite her and taught her how to advance and retreat.
"You engage and disengage and try to score a hit while keeping up your defense," Storm commented.
"I can see that," Skye replied a little breathlessly. "Your skill is amazing."
"A little more practice and you will be ready to take me on."
Skye laughed. "It will take me a long time to be a good match for you."
She was a match for him already. Not with a foil, of course. But her zest for living, her endearing high spirits, delighted him immensely. It was remarkable, the bond he felt with her after such a short acquaintance.
If she were his wife, he would be able to spar with her regularly, to laugh with her, to tease her and provoke her and challenge her as he was doing now. And he could have her in his bed. It was a highly pleasurable to imagine awakening with her beside him every morning, making love to her slowly and thoroughly. He wanted to take her right now, he thought, gazing down into her beautiful eyes. She was so desirable, he wanted to bury his hands in her waist length hair and back her against the wall and just kiss her until she gave into his demands.
But he would not allow himself. He didn't want an affair. He wanted her as his wife. No, he intended to leave her a virgin until she was his bride. But that didn't mean he couldn't use passion to persuade her to accept his hand in marriage. He wanted more than her surrender, however.
Storm didn't realize he had gone still until Skye looked up at him. "Is something wrong?" she asked questionably.
"Not at all. But it is time for your next lesson."
"What lesson?" she asked, her expression a bit wary.
Not replying right away, Storm stepped toward her and took her foil from her, then set both rapiers down on a table. When he turned to stand before her, the need to take her in his arms was almost unbearable.
"I mean to teach you about passion," he said as he drew Skye against him.
Her breathing catching, she raised her hands to push against his shoulders, but Storm refused to release her.
"Have I mentioned that seeing you in those breeches makes my imagination run wild?"
"What effect has it had?" she asked, her voice nervous and uneven.
"You have aroused me quite painfully," he said, his gaze locking with hers.
"I most certainly don't mean to."
"And you can't deny that I arouse you."
Skye opened her mouth to deny it, but closed it again. "Of course you arouse me. You are a renowned lover who can seduce anybody you want."
His hands moved to her waist and held her flush against him, enjoying the tremors that went through her body. "You are a passionate woman. You are too hot-blooded and intense."
Her chin lifted. "I think passion is highly overrated."
"I know you do. But after tonight you won't."
Lowering his hands to her hips, he slipped one knee between hers, parting her legs. With a gasp, Skye tried to pull back, but he tightened his grip and pressed her abdomen into his loins.
Deliberately rubbing his thigh against her woman's mound, he lifted her slightly to make her slide against him. She moaned just before he bent his head and captured her lips.