nape. The man was unquestionably handsome, but that did not mean she should be admiring his male beauty when he had revealed himself to be a villain.
At a slight shift from him, his face was enveloped by the darkness. Though she could no longer discern his features, she felt his gaze in the erratic beat of her pulse and in the strange warmth fluttering low in her belly.
“Why are you here?” she demanded shakily.
He moved slowly, deliberately, almost leisurely toward her, and her heart kicked a furious rhythm.
She needed her wits about her, and it was crucial for her to appear unflappable. “You rogue,” she said with a great deal of bravado, lifting the rapier to point at his chest. “How dare you break into my home and come into my chamber?”
Even more alarming, how did he know this was her bedchamber? The shocking audacity of the man dispossessed her of all rational thoughts. At the speed of a frightened horse, visions of true ruin, of being ravished by this libertine flashed in her thoughts.
“How positively astonishing. I do not believe you are afraid,” he murmured provocatively.
“Is that what you expected? Hysteria?”
“At least a swoon and a mild attack of vapors,” he said with a soft yet icy bite. “But here I am facing a racoon instead of a timid mouse.”
A racoon? Though she had never seen one, Maryann had read about the creatures, knowing they could be small and fierce but were also considered pests. She narrowed her gaze at him. “I am well past the first bloom of youth; I think I am allowed the liberties of some eccentricities not normally credited to the female sex. That would be courage, if you are not of a mind to follow my arguments.”
“How smart-mouthed you are,” he said, his gaze intense on her lips.
Curious, she lifted her fingers to her chin. Why is he staring at my mouth?
To her utter shock, he lifted the silver-headed cane in his grip and withdrew his own blade. Did the man mean to cross swords with her? How utterly intriguing. Most gentlemen would be appalled and outraged that she would lift a rapier in their presence, thinking her unequal to the task and audacious for even thinking it.
Not you, though. There was an unmissable glint of intrigue in his eyes.
Her breath trembled on her lips, and a dangerous thrill burst in her heart; it took every lesson in discipline she’d ever had to remain composed.
Her reaction was unpardonable.
Pointing her weapon toward his knees, she mockingly saluted him. His gaze insolently caressed from her head to the tip of her toes, which she curled reflexively into the carpet. Conscious that she was only dressed in a nightgown with her hair tumbling down to her hips, Maryann tried to present a self-assured mien.
“Do you mean to skewer me, Lady Maryann?”
He knew her name. Of course he did! His presence in her chamber was not by mistake.
Before she could demand any more of what his presence meant, he lifted his sword and tapped it against hers, as if to say lower your arms. That clink echoed in the chamber.
“What are your intentions?” she said with a smile, unable to contain the reckless exhilaration busting inside. She flicked her rapier upward, light and graceful, then slashed downward, hoping to disarm him.
With impressive reflexes, he repelled her move, advancing forward with a lightning-quick attack that she dodged, then counterattacked. With agile speed and grace, he parried, and Maryann slid her bare feet across the carpet, attacking and defending in the tight circle he placed them.
Unable to help it, she chuckled softly, and his mouth twitched slightly.
The testing of each other’s skills accomplished, he lowered his sword, and in the brilliance of his gaze, she saw something akin to admiration. Holding her sword in the en-garde position, she followed his lead, walking in a circle, assessing him as surely as he studied her. With a sense of bewilderment, she recognized that beneath her apprehension, there was a dark thrill to be sparring with him like this in her chamber.
Silly! For she did not know this man at all or what he wanted.
“You are impressive,” he murmured, his voice low and considering.
She faltered and stared helplessly at him. No one had ever used such an appellation to describe her before, and with a curious frown, she resumed her slow dance, following him as he retreated. Or was it he who pressed forward and she in retreat? Whichever it was, their dance