The Spy Wore Silk by Andrea Pickens

Author:Andrea Pickens [Pickens, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Courtesans, Man-Woman Relationships, Orphans, Treason, General, Romance, Women Spies, Great Britain, Historical, Boarding Schools, Fiction, Espionage, Love Stories
ISBN: 9780446618007
Google: ZykLyTnK1RMC
Amazon: 0446618004
Publisher: Forever
Published: 2007-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

Distractions were dangerous. Deliciously dangerous. She must stay on guard. “You wish another hit to your manly pride?”

“My manly pride is still well sheathed, madam. And I always take great care in guarding it from any low blows.”

She couldn’t bite back a laugh. “If I were you, I would not be so cocksure. I don’t play by the rules.”

“So I have noticed. I shall consider myself forewarned.” A stirring of the palm fronds hid his face for a moment. “Ready?”

“But of course.” Her hand tightened. She must keep her mind on technique and not the silky curls trailing down to the hard, flat belly and angled hip bones. The match became a pas de deux of martial skills. A sensual dance. As they traded thrusts and parries, Siena

was intimately aware of his whipcord strength, his leonine quickness. There was something exciting, erotic about the physical exertion. A sheen of sweat glistened on his chest, accentuating the fluid grace of his movements, the subtle contours of—

The prick of his point caught her square on the hip.

“Damn!”

“Your filo falso is angled a bit too low. Hold your wrist a touch higher.”

“Il Lupino has cautioned much the same thing,” she muttered.

Kirtland fell back a step. “Allegretto Da Rimini?”

Porca miseria! She could hear the fencing master’s curses ringing in her ears. No more mistakes, Volpina.

Kirtland’s gaze was far more probing than his makeshift sword. “I was not aware that he had come to England.”

“Who said he had?” she countered quickly.

The earl was silent for a moment. “His training explains your extraordinary skills.Though it begs yet another question about your background.”

“Which I have no intention of answering, so don’t waste your breath.” Ruing her slip of the tongue, Siena sought to deflect any further scrutiny of her past. “As is my right, I demand a chance to even the score.”

“First you must yield the token of your defeat.”

Two could wield their bodies as a weapon. Time to regain the upper hand in this war of wills. “Right.” She leaned her rod against a potted palm and began loosening the fastenings of her breeches. With a slow, deliberate waggle of her hips, she peeled the buckskin down over her thighs and let the garment fall to the ground. “Satisfied?” she demanded, stepping out from the pooling of leather.

“For the nonce.” He assumed a nonchalant stance, but she read more than a casual interest in his oblique gaze. For all his austere angles and stony composure, the earl was not impervious to flesh-and-blood desire. “Ready?”

“Not quite yet.” Her shirttails hung loosely around her legs. “I need a moment to dispense with this distraction.” She secured the trailing linen in a knot at her waist, revealing a pair of lacy drawers that barely covered the curve of her derriere.

“Imp of Satan.” His eyes ran up the length of her legs and came to rest on the sliver of midriff showing between the two garments. “It appears I am caught in a devilish dilemma. Gentlemanly honor demands that I lose, while a baser instinct urges me to show no mercy.

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