always, and before he moved to the center of the board he circled the edge, coming toward us until he was in front of Stacey and me.
“A kiss for luck, darling?” He held out a hand toward me. I narrowed my eyes at him a little, but Emma the Wench missed her pirate, and I felt that side of me taking over. So my frown melted into a knowing smile and I slipped my hand into his. Instead of bowing and bestowing the kiss I expected, though, he grasped it tight and pulled, tugging me forward and stepping closer. Before I knew what was happening he was kissing me, not hard, not passionately, but a sweet brush of his mouth on mine. He took my startled gasp into his mouth like a prize he could claim and as the cast and audience whooped around us he grinned against my lips.
Two could play at that. As he started to lean away I reached for him, threading my other hand through his hair and pulling his head back down to mine for a better kiss. A real kiss. Talk to me, my kiss said. I’m tired of playing. Is this real? How can we make this real?
The whoops continued around us, and when the kiss reached its natural conclusion he pulled away and I let him go, looking up at him with searching eyes. I was breaking character in front of a crowd of people, but I didn’t care. He looked back at me with a shaken expression, and I felt a jolt of guilt. He had to fight, a highly complex, choreographed routine with weapons. Maybe telegraphing my confusion at our relationship via a kiss in front of a crowd wasn’t the best plan at that exact moment.
“You ready, then, Blackthorne?” Mitch’s easygoing demeanor had vanished into his warrior persona again, and his question was loaded with foreboding.
Simon cleared his throat and turned an easy smile in Mitch’s direction. “Of course. Had to get a good-luck kiss from my girl first, you know.”
“Your girl? Is that what she is?” Mitch raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
Simon looked over his shoulder back at me, and his smile slipped a fraction. But he forced it on again for the performance. “Of course. You were there when we were bound, remember?”
Mitch shrugged. “And yet she came to watch the fighting at my request. Not yours.” He twirled the claymore in his hand, the broad steel flashing in the sunlight, and Simon scoffed in response.
“That matters not, she came to see me.”
Mitch pointed his sword directly at Simon. “I could take her from you without a thought.”
Simon drew his own sword and slapped it against the claymore. “You are welcome to try.”
I sucked in a breath; I didn’t like the turn this had taken. My heart sank in my chest as they started their choreographed fight. I knew how it ended. Simon lost every time. That was the way they rehearsed it, the way they performed it. But now they’d added me to this fight, like a prize to be won. I watched the two men circle each other and tried to interpret Simon’s expression. He said he was fighting for me, but he would lose. He knew that I knew that. Was there a deeper meaning there? Was he giving me the answer I’d asked for with my kiss? None of this is real. I don’t want you. Mitch can have you. I don’t care.
I knew every move of this fight, every step of it like a dance. But as I watched it this time, goose bumps rose on my arms despite the heat of the afternoon. Simon’s face was ominous, angry. He’d completely abandoned the facade of the easygoing, rule-breaking pirate, and his attacks were harder than I’d ever seen. Mitch . . . well, Mitch was still built like a brick wall, so he moved through the steps of the fight like he always did. Except when Simon flipped him, he landed a little harder than he usually did, dropping to his knees instead of landing easily on his feet. He hopped up again in a smooth motion, but the fact that he had to do so at all bothered me. These guys knew what they were doing. Why hadn’t that flip been timed right?
The rest of the fight went much the same way, especially as they fought unarmed. Simon’s swings seemed wilder, a little more out of control than they