Page 56 of The Duke's Spinster

Her silence was his answer.

“Bodi,”—he stepped closer to her and kneeled in front of her—“this is your passion. I have seen it and felt it. I have lived a part of it with you. I know, it’s clouded now, but what happened between us was real.” Gently, he wrapped a hand around her upper arm. “This is who you are. Let the world see the real you. Do not be ashamed. Be you. And they will love you.” He had somuch he wanted to tell her, like,they will love you the way I do, but he couldn’t say more past the lump in his throat.

Still she said nothing, so he stood to his feet. Gazing down at her sitting frame, she seemed as solid as stone. His soft words would do nothing. He could read her so plainly. She was unconvinced, and he knew he had to provoke her.

Not provoke. No, he had to cut her. He had to push where he knew it would hurt. So he said three words that he could never take back.

“I dare you.”

Her eyes narrowed to a thin blade as she ground out, “It’s yours to win.”

“It’syoursto win.”

Her shoulders rolled back to straighten her spine. His words were either rolling down her back like water droplets on a leaf, or sinking into the dirt to find roots. He needed it to be the dirt. He needed to reach her roots, for her to open up to him again. He wanted to see her bloom where she should plant herself. Not just where the world told her to grow in secret.

He was offering her the tournament. The weight of the offer hung in the air between them. If she fought and won, thetonwould have to recognize her skill. If he took the match, he could beat Samuel and reclaim his pride. But love couldn’t be about pride. Could she see what he was offering her?

And just when he thought perhaps he had broken through her impenetrable wall, the wall he had once before cut a door in, walked through, and then locked himself out of, she spoke.

“No.”

There was that word again. But this time it burned a hole into his heart. This time she wasn’t saying no to him, she was saying no to herself. And he just could not abide that.

He shrugged, casting his last line. “I bet you’d lose anyway.”

She shoved herself up from her chair and made toward the door. She was leaving. Of course she was. He was being a cad. What else could he say though? If he couldn’t soften her into it, nor could he provoke her into it, what did he have left?

She reached the door and turned to glance back over her shoulder with daggers for eyes, “How. Much?”

“How much, what?”

“How much do you want to bet?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Boudicca was perspiringbefore she even stepped foot on the piste. Surely she would be recognized. Someone would notice she wasn’t Wesley. But no one did. She felt a couple of glances, but maybe the fact that she was wielding his weapon confirmed her identity to them. Besides, more often than not people saw what they wanted to see, what they expected to see, not what was truly in front of them.

She had already been there a day and a half, but somehow it felt new. All eyes were on her. But it was as if she had a blank slate. They didn’t see her for Boudicca. They saw her as Wesley. A man. A man who could do anything. A man who had options. A man who had power. But those resources should not be exclusive to men. She would show the world the options and power a woman could possess. Let the gossip ruin her. If it could, it would. And if it didn’t, then that would be its own beast to contend with because then she would have to face herself and the future she had been putting off for so long.

With confidence, she stepped up to face Samuel. But it wasn’t just Samuel. He was all the people who didn’t believe in her. He was all the people who didn’t think a woman could be strong. Agile. Athletic. He was all the men that had made her work twice as hard as a man to get half as much.

This was her battle. This was her war.

She would use her skill and then her brains to win it. For all the outraged daughters. For all the daughters who knew it waswrong for women to be subjugated. And for all the daughters who didn’t know. For all the daughters who didn’t know that they had the right to dream. To do. To become.

To become more than just a woman or a lady. To be seen simply as a person. Not for their beauty. Not for their skill. Not for their polite smile. Their curtsy or tea pouring abilities. A person to love and be loved.

It was altogether too much to put on a simple match. Yet still not enough.

The match had been reset and begun and Samuel aggressively advanced. He was direct. With a lightning fast lunge, he took the first point high outside. Rattled, Boudicca restarted. But her emotions were wound tight, and she was caught off guard. He quickly snagged a second point with nearly the exact same maneuver. He probably thought Wesley was a simpleton.

But to hell with that. She wasn’t going down this way. By jove, she had come to fight. No, she had come to win. This was her chance. If she didn’t pull it off, then it would all be for nothing. Wesley would have let her take his place only to secure him another loss. That was intolerable. She would not fail him. But even more importantly, she wouldn’t fail herself.

She would not get this chance again. It was now or never.

She shuffled her sword and gracelessly moved forward in hopes that the awkward movement would distract Samuel. If it looked like she didn’t know what she was doing, he wouldn’t know how to prepare a defense or counterattack. One. The flop worked. His eyes didn’t know where to focus, and she stole a point low inside. Quicker on the attack than even him, she snared a second point high outside. Two. When she struck, she heard his labored breathing, and she knew the win was within reach.

This was her time. She was not the kind to show off. To boast of her skill was considered improper for a lady. But right now she wasn’t a lady. She was a fencer. And she was damn well going to be the best bloody fencer thetonhad seen yet.

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