By Fire and by Sword (13 page)

“Quite serious.”

“I have never heard of a woman taking up the sword.”

She laughed, in that husky, throaty manner that sent dangerous impulses to a part of him that did not need any help.

“Quite a few women have taken up the sword. Even Josette fences.”

“Joan of Arc is the only one I’ve ever heard of.”

“And she did not fight with the sword. She only used it to swat prostitutes with the flat side of the blade.”

It was his turn to laugh, and then his thoughts turned
back to her. “You are afraid, aren’t you? There is someone out there who wants to hurt you. Is that why you ran away to come here?”

She looked down at her hands, and he waited, giving her time, as the seconds ticked by.

At last, she sighed and answered him. “Yes, that is why I came here, but do not ask me any more. You know far too much already, and if he ever found you, he would kill you. He will kill anyone who gets in his way.”

“My fear is for you, not myself. It does something to a man to see a woman in trouble.”

“I can take care of myself, and with the
comte’
s help, I will be able to defend myself as well.”

“And when you are good enough to defeat the
comte
, you will return to Scotland?”

“When I am good enough, yes, but I doubt there is anyone who could get the better of the
comte.
It would take a serious blunder on his part, or an accident of some sort for that to happen.”

Footsteps came crunching up behind them. She gasped and turned, only to relax when she saw it was one of the footmen.

“Lady Kenna, Gaston sent me to find you. The
comte
, Josette and the captain’s friend are waiting on you for dinner.”

They started back, walking slowly, and when the footman disappeared, Colin said, “One last kiss before I go,” pulled her behind a tree and kissed her again. Only this kiss was hard and demanding, where the first one had been soft and searching. He pressed her back
against the tree, and he could tell she had never felt a man’s body aligned against hers like that before. It was damnably exciting, but he knew he had to stop.

“You should not have done that. Someone could be watching.”

“I wanted to tell you goodbye here, because we may not have another chance to see each other alone once we are back inside.”

“You are leaving tonight?”

“We will spend the night in Paris and leave in the morning.”

“Oh.”

It was both pleasing and gut-wrenching to hear her breathe that one word in a way that allowed him to hear her disappointment. “I wish I could stay longer, but the ship and crew are waiting in Calais. If I leave them to their own mischief for too long, without myself or Alejandro there, I might not have a ship or a crew when I return.”

He took her arm and pulled it through his, and walked her back to the château, the way a gentleman would escort his lady, and she was that.

“Will you be coming back?”

He paused long enough to grasp her by the forearms, and pull her close to plant a kiss on her forehead. “I was not sure of it until I heard you ask me that. Yes, I will be back. And I want you to promise if anything happens and you need help, get word to Monsieur Dessin, at Dessin’s Inn. He knows how to find me. Promise.”

“I will, I promise.”

They stepped through the doors and joined the others for dinner, and by the time the evening ended, it was not easy for either Colin or Alejandro to ride away.

As they mounted their horses, Alejandro said, “I’m glad we are leaving tomorrow.”

“Anxious to get back to sea, are you?”

“No, I am anxious to get away from a woman that scares the hell out of me.

“Ditto, my friend. Ditto.”

Often the fear of one evil

leads us into a worse.

Nicolas Boileau (1636–1711),

French writer and poet.

L’Art poétique
(1674).

I
n the week that followed, Colin Montgomery was too often in Kenna’s thoughts, although her family was always at the center of her life and her heart. There were so many times when she felt herself weakening, when she wanted to get word to them, to tell them not to worry about her, but she was always conscious that the risk was too great, and protecting her family was foremost.

She had come very close to asking Colin to pay them a visit and tell them she was all right, but some-thing—whether intuition or common sense—cautioned her against it. Lord Walter probably had men watching her relatives. If Colin went to them, it would put their lives as well as his in danger.

She could not, would not risk any of them.

The weeks passed and melted into months and Kenna continued to train with the
comte
every morning and every afternoon, except Sunday. She also continued to practice with Josette, but soon outpaced her to the point the
comte
stopped them.

“The difference in us is a matter of the difference in our objectives. Uninfluenced by emotions or personal prejudices, I fence for the sport of it, and sometimes for nothing more than the novelty,” Josette said. “For you, it is an obsessive passion and a matter of survival.”

It was at this point that the Comte Debouvine suggested it was time for her to fence with a few male partners, but only those who were considered to be the best. “I have selected three young men whom I know quite well, and their families also,” he said. “I will have you working only with them, and I will swear each one of them to secrecy.” His eyes took on a devilish gleam when he added, “It would also help if you could best them on a regular basis, for it is not like a man to boast that he has fenced with a woman. He is even less likely to do it if he has to admit she is better than he is.”

“I do my best to win, always,” she said.

“I know you do, Lady Kenna.”

The
comte
arranged for her to engage some of the younger members of the nobility on a daily basis. Because they were all former pupils, they eagerly agreed because of the opportunity to work with the
comte
once again. However, when they discovered the reason for the invitation, they were reluctant—what young
blade wanted to waste his time fencing a woman? But they were quick to change their minds once they engaged her, ceased to think about her gender, and concentrated on the foil that moved so swiftly, it was almost impossible to follow.

“I would like to provide you with a few more practice partners, but we must be careful here,” the
comte
told her, “for we do not want word to get out about a red-haired lass from Scotland who is suddenly out-fencing some of the best blades in Paris.”

Now Kenna truly began to worry. She knew that the more her name was bandied about, the greater the chance that news of her could eventually get back to Lord Walter.

One afternoon, after her fencing class and after Josette had left, Kenna remained to speak with the
comte.
She placed her foil on the rack and waited until he did the same, then she told him about her fears that Lord Walter might find her as easily as Colin had done.

“Come, let us take a turn around the gardens. It is a grand day, and we are blessed that the air is dry after so much rain.”

The gardeners were trimming the hedges of the maze, and had stirred up a hornet’s nest, so they bypassed it and walked along the graveled paths, past the floating gardens and the beds of roses and irises, past the rhododendron and azalea garden, and sat for a while on a white marble bench in the Italian garden.

The
comte
was not worried about Lord Walter finding out something from Colin or Alejandro, but he said, “The thing I do worry about is, if Lord Walter is as devious
and smart as you say, he might be able to backtrack to the time when he first came into the lives of you and your sisters. We can assume that by now, he has made his way to Scotland and he has learned that you are not there. I am certain, based on what you have told me, that he is the kind of man who would want to see for himself. He would have personally made the trip to Inchmurrin Island to verify your absence. He has probably hired others to keep the island, as well as the homes of your kin, under surveillance. He has already learned the comings and goings of your family members, to the point that he is satisfied that you are no longer in Scotland.”

“His next move will be to analyze everything until he feels he has a good idea where I am,” she continued. “He is as cunning as he is deadly.”

“Yes, he will be trying to think as you would. He lived in the same home with you and your sisters, which gave him ample opportunity to learn much about your behavior. He will use this to predict the future, based upon what’s happened in the past. By your riding through the night, from your home to Edinburgh in order to save your sister’s life, you have demonstrated your bravery and resourcefulness, as well as your tendency to seek friends and family in a time of need. It is in your favor that he has a big world to search.”

“But not for long,” she added.

“No, it won’t take him long. In order to narrow the search, he will adopt the mathematical approach, and work on probabilities.”

“Second-guessing me, thinking as I think.”

“Exactly. He would surmise in the beginning that you probably would not go too terribly far from home, and that would eliminate America, South America, Asia, the Orient and such. Because of the Scots’ conflict with England, he would rule that out as well.”

“That would leave Ireland, or Europe,” she said.

“Yes. I also think that instead of dashing off to those places, he would begin to eliminate countries. Because he lived with you, he surely knows that you speak French, so that would put any English-speaking or French-speaking countries at the top of his list.”

Her hands began to tremble, and the secure, peaceful feeling she’d had since coming here vanished, and worse, she knew it was gone for good.

The time for preparation was drawing to a close.

Soon it would be time for the meeting and the final confrontation. Would she be good enough to beat him, and smart enough to outwit him?

The
comte
put a hand to her cheek. “Do not look so despondent. All is not lost. The worst you can do is give up.”

“I know, but it is disheartening and terrifying at the same time. Here I thought I had it all planned out. I thought I was so smart and capable of taking care of myself.” She put her hands over her face as the emotion began to overpower her. “Oh God, he knows…he knows!” she said, trembling at the fading away of her false security. Then she gained control, and spoke in a detached manner. “He already knows where I am. I am certain it did not take him long to decide I came to
Paris, and once that was realized, he could come up with your name rather quickly.”

He nodded. “Ah, yes, because of your connection to Sophie de Bourbon.”

In the months that followed, Kenna concentrated on each of the new partners she fenced with. She was focused, determined and driven beyond any ambition or drive they possessed. One by one, she either came to best them frequently, or they quit rather than face humiliation of being beaten by a woman, until there were not very many left who would even agree to a match.

When she was not fencing with them, she would practice her moves, and work to strengthen her body, and frequently would fence with the
comte
, until she soon could count more than one time she had won the match against him.

As she knew it would, the time came when her time as the
comte’
s pupil was at an end. It happened on a day they had a match planned between her and the
comte.

Kenna was in the gallery when the
comte
entered, still a youthful figure for his age, and the epitome of grace and elegance in his black pants and white shirt.

They took their foils and checked the round adjustments that were made to each sharp, steel point, so no blood would be drawn during a hit. Satisfied, they took their positions on the
piste
and the match began, with the
comte
scoring the first hit to Kenna’s left shoulder. The second hit went to Kenna. When they started for the third time, Kenna had the advantage of youth, but the
comte
had the years of knowledge and skill behind
him. The fight went on for a long time, until Kenna tested him with a riposte, and he had no time to parry, before the tip of her foil caught him just below the right clavicle. A second later, she saw a bright red stain on the
comte’
s white shirt.

Horrified, she looked at the tip of her foil and saw the protective cap had fallen off. She rushed to see to his wound, full of apology.

“Oh,
cher Maître.
What have I done?”

He chuckled. “Done? Why nothing that is not done on a daily basis in every fencing school. It is nothing that has not happened to me many times,” he said, with a glimpse at the oozing wound. “You see? It is a superficial cut and nothing to fret about, my dear Kenna,” he said.

But, to Kenna, it was much more than a superficial wound. It was a sign…a blood sign that her time in France, her time with the
comte
, was up.

“Please, do not look as if this were the end of the world. You know I have given you a nick or two and drawn blood. Tomorrow you will have forgotten all about it.”

“No, Monsieur le Comte. It is over.”

“Over? You don’t intend to let a little cut stop you.”

“It is a sign…confirmation that it is time for me to return to Scotland.”

As she knew he would, he did not try to argue or second-guess her, but respected her intuition and her feeling that the time they both dreaded had come. “I cannot stand in the way of your appointment with fate. Have you some idea when you plan to leave, or is it something you will have to contemplate?”

“I think I should go right away, as soon as I can pack.”

“I have something for you to consider. Since we have accepted the invitation of the Duc and Duchesse de Pontaillac a week from tomorrow, what do you think about that as a leave-taking celebration? You can go the next day, or the day after, if you prefer. What say you?”

Kenna’s intuition was telling her strongly that she should leave immediately, and that the drawing of the
comte’
s blood was a prophetic herald that pointed to the future…the hour that was to come for the settling of a score with an old enemy.

But when she started to speak of her feeling, she allowed herself to be swayed by the hopeful look in the depths of the
comte’
s blue eyes. She knew he had come to care for her as much as she had come to love him, and many times in the past year he had mentioned his dread when her days as his pupil would come to an end.

Still, her heart and her head wrestled.

“It is only one week,” he said.

There was such hope in his voice, and she recalled how she had felt that day when she first came here, with so much riding on whether or not he would agree to help her. How could she, then, not acquiesce to his request?

“Very well,
cher Maître.
I shall make preparations to leave after the Pontaillacs’ ball.”

He kissed her forehead, and then took her hand in his. “Come with me into the gallery. I have something for you.”

She went with him, and was surprised to see him move a large carving of his family crest. Behind it was a locked door about a foot square. He withdrew a key from his pocket and unlocked it. He withdrew a dark blue velvet sleeve, tied at one end with a velvet tassel.

Curiosity curled around her like the tail of a cat.

He untied the tassel and withdrew a magnificent sword.

Truly, it was beautiful, with the exquisitely modeled head of a woman. Her long hair curled in spirals around the hilt, down to the blade. The image was finely featured and emeralds gleamed in her eyes.

“Take it. It is yours.”

“Oh, I could not, for it is a priceless piece.”

“Oh, it is that. It was my father’s sword, and his father’s before him, and on back many generations. No one knows exactly how long it has been in our family, but the legend says it was made by the god Vulcan, for Mars, the god of war, son of Jupiter and father of Romulus, the founder of Rome. It was said to have magical properties, but I have never witnessed such, and neither did my father.” He handed it to her. “But you will notice that there is one thing magical about it.”

“Its weight,” she said, awed, for it had no more heft than her foil.

That night, Kenna went into Josette’s room and told her about the sword and her hit that drew the
comte’
s blood, as well as the reservations she still had over her agreement to remain at the château until after the Pontaillacs’ ball.

“I know it was an omen that I must leave here as
soon as possible,” she said, her mind racing ahead. “It is time for me to go. I have learned all I can. To stay longer would endanger both of you.”

Josette, with her Gypsy blood, held strong beliefs about premonition, signs and such, but she had been raised with the kind and gentle ways of the
comte
, and taught the value of truth, honor and trust. “You know I believe in presentiment, but I also believe in honoring your word. You agreed, Kenna, and that is the end of it.”

Kenna sighed. “You are right, of course.”

The subject was dropped, and the conversation drifted naturally to the subject of Colin and Alejandro.

“You liked him, didn’t you?” Kenna asked.

“
Like
can have many meanings,” Josette replied.

“You know the meaning I am talking about. You cannot hide it from me. I was there. I saw the way you looked at him as if he were a side of beef and you were coming off a long fast. I saw the sparks flying from the heat of all that hot Latin blood and temperaments intermingling.”