Page 107 of Feathers in the Wind
“And your sister?”
“She has a respectable dowry.”
“I’m surprised she’s not had every eligible man in the county after her,” Luke observed. “She has, but only one she cared for,” Deliverance said. “Jack Farrington.”
Luke sighed, contemplating that particular doomed relationship. “What about you, Deliverance?”
“Me? What man would have me?”
Luke looked up at the outline of the castle rising above the tree line, the soft grey stone of its walls, picturesque against the green. Any man who wanted a castle and substantial estates would have her, he thought cynically.
“I think,” Deliverance continued, oblivious to his train of thought. “I think I may have been too preoccupied to notice if any man seriously paid me court.”
“How old are you?” Luke asked.
She stiffened. “Twenty-five.” She looked down at him. “I consider that an extremely personal question. How old are you, Captain Collyer?”
He smiled. “Twenty-nine and I’ve been a soldier since I was eighteen.”
“If I’d been a man I would have been a soldier... ” Deliverance began but didn’t continue.
“If you’d been a man you would have set yourself to be the best rider, the best swordsman, the best at everything wouldn’t you?”
She flushed scarlet to the roots of her hair. “I’m good at all those things.” She pulled a face. “What I’m not good at is domestic duties.”
“You are good at swords?” Luke asked.
“Not good... but passable,” Deliverance said. Luke rose to his feet. “Show me.”
Deliverance looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Show me how you wield a sword?”
Deliverance spread her hands. “I’ve no sword with me.”
“Wait here.”
Luke walked into the glade, returning with two long stout sticks of even length and weight that he had cut.
“This is foolish,” Deliverance said as he threw one to her. She caught it deftly in the hand of her uninjured arm.
“On your guard, madam,” he said with a laugh.
“You’re serious?”
He assumed theen gardeposition. “Very. I’ve never fenced with a woman before.”
“You have something of an advantage over me,” Deliverance observed as she brought her stick up to rest against his. “To start with you are considerably taller than me, you have a longer reach and, sir, you are not wearing petticoats.”
Luke moved to flick the hideous cap off her head and found himself parried. They circled gaining each other’s measure and then with a lightning fast move, Deliverance lunged, the stick skimming his right sleeve.
“Very good,” Luke said in genuine admiration, parrying her next lunge.
He could have used his height and reach advantage but chose not to. Deliverance’s own size and weight made her fast, but the skirts were obviously a serious impediment, so they indulged in a bit of back and forth until the ghastly cap she wore fell from Deliverance’s head and the shining dark hair tumbled around her face. She put up her weapon and pushed the hair back from her face. The exercise had brought colour to her cheeks and her eyes danced with laughter. Luke wondered how much opportunity she had in her life to laugh.
She rubbed her sore arm. “Enough, Captain Collyer. Remember, I am just out of my sick bed.”
Her breast rose and fell from the exertion and, with her collar askew, for the first time he noticed that the plain gown hid a shapely figure. His eyes held hers, and he saw an answering longing in their blue depths.
