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His knees threatened to buckle when it occurred to him that he could have easily harmed her. Merde, this slip of a girl already had proved to be more trouble than she was worth and he’d scarcely known her a few hours.

“You should not tempt the fates, mademoiselle. Once you drew blood, you changed the venue of the match. Another man might have sliced his initials into your hide.” His voice sounded strained to his own ear. It didn’t come as a surprise to him, since it took every bit of his willpower not to lean down and kiss her pouting mouth. Of course, the thought to simply turn her over his knee and spank her bottom was almost more appealing. Either idea aroused him.

He felt himself growing hard and in order to hide his state, he pivoted on his foot and stalked away.

With short choppy motions that betrayed his inner turmoil, he removed his helmet and chest guard and was about to walk out, when the contemptuous tone in Stormy’s voice stopped him. He twisted around and deliberately let his gaze travel the whole length of her. What an impudent minx. There she stood, leaning negligently on the saber as if it were a walking stick.

The idea of spanking her bottom came to his mind once again, and the effect on his libido was no less shocking.

Lifting her chin, while she clutched her blouse in a fist, she called out to him. “I demand a rematch, Monsieur Despard. You had the advantage of wearing protective chest armor. I want to fight you without it. Winner is the one who draws first blood. We can meet somewhere in a forest glen. This match was hardly fair. I had already exerted myself with the fencing master and I have been out of shape from the long voyage across the Atlantic. I would like the opportunity to prove to you that your condescension is sorely misplaced.”

Heaven have mercy. What was she saying? The moment she crossed sabers with him, she had known that she had more than met her match. Despard was lithe on his feet. His lunges had more power than hers and he thought his every move through.

She knew she spoke out of turn, but Despard had pricked her pride and nothing aroused her stubborn streak more than the feeling of having been patronized. She should have realized by the sheer size of the man that he was nothing like the boys back home. André Despard was no boy. And that thought made her insides quiver with something not only foreign to her, but something that evoked a strange uneasiness.

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Tossing her head, she walked over to the wall and replaced her face guard and weapon.

That simple task allowed her to regain her bravado. Bah, she wasn’t afraid of Despard. He could be beaten, but maybe not after she had fenced with Monsieur Chevalier for almost an hour.

All she needed was a fresh start and she’d show him. She straightened her shoulders, forgetting the state of her ruined blouse and in the process thrust her breasts out at a most tempting angle.

André wanted to lighten their conversation by teasing her. The words that he thought her shape was excellent died on his lips, when his eyes were drawn to her heaving chest. Christ, her nipples jutted against that damned filmy chemise. The retort that had so easily come to mind stuck in his throat and he dropped his gaze, knowing that the heat of desire flared in its depth.

He desperately needed to get out of the room so he could sort through his warring emotions. But again Stormy halted him in his tracks.

“What about a rematch tomorrow? Somewhere, where we’ll be private.” She stuck out her chin in a challenging gesture. “I don’t want to be interrupted by some well meaning soul, who thinks they have to come to my rescue.”

His hand already on the door knob, André stopped once more to look over his shoulder.

Bloody hell, she never gave up, did she? His eyes narrowed in speculation, while his heart did little somersaults in his chest. He braced a shoulder negligently against the door jamb and tried to stare her down. He carefully schooled his voice to give the impression of aloofness.

“I believe you’ve already proved your point, mademoiselle. You drew first blood.

Besides, do you have any idea what you are proposing? If we were found out, I would be forced to marry you, because it is unheard of that a young unmarried woman would meet an unmarried man somewhere private as you so aptly put it.” A dark brow rose as he waited for her answer.

Stormy exhaled an exasperated breath. “What utter rot! And you think us to be colonial and to be living in the dark ages. Ugh! No one needs to find out. You people are so stiff here.

We live way out in the country. There are no other girls my age. I grew up like one of the boys.

They respect me and not one of them ever bested me.”

She tossed her mane to convey her contempt. Her hair had come loose from its topknot and it took André’s breath when he watched the dark mass swirl around her pixie face like a cloud of black silk. She was a sight to behold with the high color in her cheeks and her eyes glittering like a sun-dappled sea in summer.

He inhaled slowly through his nose so as to not betray his inner turmoil. God only knew how much he wanted a rematch. She rivaled many a man in her fencing prowess and now that he knew who was behind the protective helmet, he would enjoy it so much more. Still, he couldn’t risk her reputation.

Stormy watched him intently. She cocked her head to the side, a speculative look in her expressive eyes, while she fisted her hands into her waist. “Methinks Monsieur Despard is afraid of me.”

André swallowed. Her belligerent stance drew his attention to the smallness of her waist and her long, slender legs. He swallowed against his rising desire. The minx was temptation in persona. And she had hit the nail on the head. He was afraid of her. Maybe not afraid of her, but afraid of what she might do to him. Afraid he might lose control and kiss her senseless. He wanted to feel if her skin was as soft as it looked, he wanted to taste her, breathe her scent. He bit back a groan, when he thought how he would like to lose himself inside her.

He shook his head like a wet dog. Sacré, what was he thinking? He bowed formally and set his expression into one of utter boredom, something he was far from feeling.

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In a voice cold as ice, he gritted, “Mademoiselle Michaella, I regret that I can’t accept your challenge. I value my unmarried state more than proving I can best one young woman, who believes herself unbeatable. I am not one of your country bumpkins.”

He stalked out of the hall, trying to hold on to the tatters of his dignity. He’d seen the hurt in her eyes, when he had summarily dismissed her and thrown in that jibe about not being a country bumpkin. And it was no excuse that he had thrown that insult at her out of sheer desperation.

“Coward!” she called after his retreating back. It was a verbal parry to his verbal lunge.

She knew it was malicious and she knew it was unfair. Tears of frustration clouded her vision.

Wasn’t it always the same? Girls were always dismissed as being the weaker or too much the lady to be able to fight on a level field with a man. She stomped her foot, knowing full well that she was far from letting the matter die. Country bumpkins indeed.

Baffled by his uncouth behavior, André ducked into the study. What he needed was a stiff drink and the calming effect of a cheroot to recover his equilibrium. As he bent to light the thin cigar, he happened to see Stormy charge past the open door, hugging her blouse protectively against her slender curves.

Despite their ill-fated conversation, André’s lips quirked in an amused grin. No wonder they called her Stormy. She moved like a small tempest, her hair flying behind her like a banner in the wind, her eyes burning with the unrequited need for revenge.

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He knew he couldn’t keep the masquerade up much longer. Already posters had been tacked to trees along the highway warning of his presence and offering a hefty sum for his head.

He would hang, if he were captured. He had to find his solicitor and he had to get his hands on the forged deed, then make a clean break and hope no one would ever connect him to the subversive activity of a common robber.

He was also thoroughly tired of spending cold nights in the hunting cabin and it was hardly fair to Noir to be hidden away there. Tiredly, he saddled the roan gelding he used during the day.

Breakfast was already in progress when André sauntered into the sunny morning room.

He called out a general greeting that included everyone and went to help himself from the dishes on the sideboard. Without appearing to do so, he had already gauged where Stormy was seated and knew he would keep as far away from her as possible. But as fate might have it Annabelle, who had been sitting next to Stormy, got up and excused herself because she had been asked to run upstairs to fetch a shawl for her mother.

“Uncle André, you can have my seat,” she chimed blithely, unaware of the tension that knotted the broad shoulders of her favorite male outside of her father. “I am already finished with my breakfast and I am planning to ride over to visit with my friend Caroline.”

André inhaled an unsteady breath and damned the fact that he had arrived later than usual and would now be forced to sit next to the one person, who was capable of setting his world on its head. Either that or he would be deemed incredibly rude. His smile tight, he carried his plate to the indicated place at the table and nodded to Stormy.

“How are you enjoying our English countryside?” It was an idle question to brook the awkwardness he felt. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure how he felt. Was the room hotter than usual or was he coming down with something?

At his question, Stormy’s hand stopped midway to her mouth and she fixed him with an impudent stare. “I haven’t seen much of it, sir, but I was told I could not ride out alone, because there is a notorious highwayman on the loose.”

Now where had that come from? No one had mentioned the hold-up of their carriage and no one at this table had hinted at this robber. She didn’t dare look at her parents sitting further down the table for fear of seeing the reproof in their eyes.

André almost choked on his eggs. “Well, I am sure that in your country young ladies aren’t allowed to ride out alone either. As I hear it there are renegade Indians on the loose.” He refrained to add that the colonies would be rife with felons, since the English crown had settled some states with their most notorious criminals. “However, I am sure someone would be willing to escort you and show you around, if you wanted to take a ride.”

He saw her eyes light up in a triumphant glint and he knew he’d been had.

Batting long lashes at him, she said demurely, “Are you offering your services, Monsieur Despard?”

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He was about to decline, when Thomas broke in and offered his services for him. “André knows this country like the back of his hand. I am sure he would consider it an honor to show you about.”

André smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Their frosty blue speared into Thomas and he felt hard-pressed to keep the tension from his voice. “I am sure Lady Michaella would feel much more at ease with people of her own age.”

Tom kicked his brother’s leg beneath the table. They didn’t want to be saddled with Stormy, because they had their eyes on a couple of young ladies and it simply wouldn’t do to make them jealous. They started to shake their heads simultaneously. “We already have plans for this morning, father.”

“In that case, you would be doing me a great favor, if you took my brother’s daughter for a ride around the countryside.” Thomas emphasized the words brother and daughter, when he noticed Trevor’s disapproving scowl.

André’s mind churned for a legitimate excuse, but he couldn’t think of one. Hell, he couldn’t think of anything. He would be alone with this hellion and god only knew where that would lead.

He inclined his head as graciously as he could and bit out, “I will meet you at the stables in say half an hour?”

“I’ll be ready.” Stormy relished the idea of being alone with André. She disliked his aloofness toward her. She was used to young men fawning over her. Well, she would charm him like a spider did a fly and then she would drop him like a stone. He definitely needed a comeuppance.

Before Stormy could leave the room, her father stopped her. “I expect you to behave yourself. Cut the poor man a little slack.” He grinned down at her, knowing full well that Stormy could hold her own, but he wasn’t so sure about André.

“Since you will ride out with Mister Despard, your mother and I intend to take a short trip to Bellingshire and visit the Cormacs. I am not sure if you remember, but they are the people who owned Dreamscape before I bought it from them. Actually, they made me a good deal at the time and I will be forever grateful to them for that. Just in case we are asked to stay overnight, I know you are in good hands here at Emerald Hills.”

Stormy stood on tiptoe and kissed her father’s cheek, while she crossed her fingers behind her back, knowing full well that she was about to tell a lie. “You and mother have a good time. I promise to behave.”

At the appointed time Stormy strolled into the stable and André almost swallowed his tongue. “Mademoiselle, I am afraid you cannot go out riding in that … that manner of dress.

You might get away with it in the colonies, but here it is out of the question for a young lady to ride in men’s breeches.”

Oh, she had known that all along, but she had wanted to get his goat and she apparently had succeeded. Pivoting on one foot, she turned a complete circle to taunt him. “But I don’t understand, monsieur.” She widened her eyes in that innocent way that turned his insides to mush. “I am completely covered from head to toe. What objection could anyone have?”

“Trust me, it won’t do,” André rasped, surprised that his voice sounded so strangled even in his own ears.