Her answer was slow in coming as she debated whether it was worth giving him such an easy chance to increase his score. Yet she wished she had known how to wield a sword when she was sixteen. And she very much wanted to know now how to deal with brutes like Mick O’Rourke and those bullies they’d encountered in the alley who had been beating a helpless dog. “If you insist.”
“Very well, then. We can begin tomorrow if you can make time in your busy schedule.”
“I am certain I can spare an hour around two in the afternoon, my lord.”
“Can you devote another hour? I have a salon at home designed specifically for fencing matches.”
Lily shook her head. She didn’t want to be alone with Lord Claybourne for that length of time, certainly not in his domain. “Can’t we hold my lesson here? The parlor we used to teach dancing should be large enough.”
He nodded. “That will serve better than my salon, I expect. It could harm your reputation to be seen at a bachelor’s residence, engaged in a man’s sport.”
They had reached the sitting room door by then, so Lily paused just outside. “I don’t care much about my reputation, you know.”
“But I do, sweeting. I will bring my practice foils with me when I call. Only…I have one condition if I’m to teach you.”
“What condition is that?”
“That you call me by my given name instead of ‘my lord.’ My name is Heath.”
Heath watched her struggle to decide if the familiarity of using first names was worth her desire to learn the art of swordsmanship.
“Very well,” she finally said. “I shall call you Heath. But your lessons had best be stellar, or you will go back to being ‘my lord.’”
He grinned as she turned to enter the sitting room, congratulating himself on winning a minor battle. Yet Lily had won one of her own by convincing him to suspend his better judgment and tutor her in fencing.
Still, he had gotten the best of the bargain. Not only would he enjoy spending time with her; it would allow him the chance to intensify his campaign to woo her. He had a much more interesting lesson in mind than teaching her the rudiments of fencing.
Shoving a hand through his hair, Heath laughed softly to himself upon realizing just how calculating and manipulative he’d become with Lily. He was no better than many of the debutantes who had relentlessly pursued him over the years.
But she had given him little choice, he thought, following her into the sitting room.
When she went directly to her friends to embrace them, however, Heath stood back to permit them some time together. Fleur seemed to be holding up well after her confrontation with O’Rourke, but Chantel was trembling and making weak, fluttering gestures with a silk fan. Fanny, on the other hand, was obviously trying hard to control her temper.
When the four women began talking at once, Heath kept his gaze fixed on Lily. She was a fascinating maze of contradictions, infuriatingly headstrong and stubborn, yet amazingly generous and compassionate and loyal. She wouldn’t give an inch in their courtship game, yet she was ready to give away her fortune to her friends if they needed it.
Lily was also delightfully novel and intriguing. And courageous and tenacious to the point of being foolhardy. Heath remembered her feistiness when she’d chased O’Rourke with that bronze statue. It might have been humorous if he hadn’t feared what a man like O’Rourke might do in revenge.
Even so, he couldn’t fault Lily entirely for her passion in defending the weak. It was one of the things he admired most about her.
She had her own weakness, though, Heath was coming to realize. Not for the first time he’d sensed vulnerability beneath that firebrand demeanor. He’d seen the tormented look that had crossed her features once she had won her skirmish with the gamester. Something wounded had flashed behind her eyes, a haunted glimmer that had made Heath want to hold her, to comfort her.
The powerful feeling wouldn’t leave him. Lily aroused his protective instincts as well as his body, although he knew she would swallow nails before accepting any man’s protection.
But someone had hurt her before this, he was certain. Perhaps that was why she was so unattainable now.
He wasn’t about to let anyone hurt her again, Heath vowed. He protected what was his, and Lily was his now. Even if she hadn’t accepted it yet.
Tenderness ran through him, irrevocably strong, as he watched her console her friends. He intended to discover why Lily was so self-protective, so defensive. And he was more determined than ever to succeed in winning her.
Lily thought she didn’t need men, didn’t need him, but he would show her how very mistaken she was.
Chapter Eight
Lord Claybourne most certainly does not play fair!
– Lily to Fanny
Heath stared as Lily lightly skipped down the front staircase toward him the following afternoon. She had managed to surprise him yet again, this time because her shapely form was garbed in men’s breeches and boots and cambric shirt. With her hair worn long and tied back with a ribbon, she looked the complete hoyden-and she knew it, judging by her arch expression.