“Close enough.” He thrust the sword at an imaginary foe. “I always told my father those fencing lessons would come in handy someday.”

“So you can really use that thing?”

He grinned. “Try me.”

I raised my cutlass into something that vaguely resembled Kris’s “en garde” position.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded. He lunged forward and knocked the cutlass so hard it flew from my hand, and left my wrist vibrating.

“Hey!”

I ducked to grab my cutlass, then stopped as I felt the tip of his sword pressed against my throat. Still crouching, I looked up at Kristof.

“It would seem, sir, that you have me at a disadvantage.”

“So it would.”

He slid the sword tip down my throat to my chest, and traced a line down my cleavage, caught the edge of the bodice, and plucked it off my breast. The moment his attention was diverted, I flipped backward, grabbed my cutlass, and sprang to my feet. Kris lunged, sword raised. I feinted and swung around him, then lifted the cutlass blade to the back of his neck.

When he felt the blade shift, he ducked and spun, sword raised. We sparred for a few seconds. Then he caught the underside of my cutlass and knocked it from my hand. I quickstepped backward—and slammed into a wide tree. Kristof lifted his sword tip to my throat again.

“Mercy?” he asked.

“Never.”

Kristof laughed and slid the blade down my chest again. This time, he snagged the first lace on the bodice, and sliced through it.

“Kris…”

He caught the second lace on his sword tip.

“Kris…”

“Oh, you know I won’t do anything,” he said. “Won’t even try. Not until I know you’re ready. I just like to…” A small smile as he pressed against me. “Remind you. In case you’ve forgotten what it was like.”

That was one reminder I never needed. I’d had lovers before and after Kristof—never many, I was always too particular to share my body with just anyone—but Kris was the only man I’d ever lost control with, the only one I’d never been able to get enough of. And now, feeling him hard against me…

Oh, to hell with this.

I tilted my hips up. Kris pressed closer, letting me lift my legs and wrap them around him. I wrapped my hands in his hair and kissed him. Kris moaned and slid his hands into my breeches, and grabbed my rear, pulling me tighter against him.

Then he tensed, resisting. After a moment’s hesitation, he tugged my arms down and stepped back.

“You aren’t ready,” he murmured.

“No?”

I took his hand. He let me slide his fingers under my waistband, then jerked his hand away and took another step back.