Arching his back, Lincoln springs onto his feet. My mind calculates the possible moves from this stance. The Prince lunges at me again with his wooden sword; I block his strike with an upward thrust. As he slices from different angles, I keep blocking.
No matter what I do, I stay stuck on the defensive. Grr. I need to break through his hits and get on the attack.
When Lincoln spins around for another strike, I see my chance. For the millisecond his back is turned to me, I leap into the air and kick out feet-first, looking to connect with his shoulders and slam him face-first onto the mat.
Lincoln senses my move, dodging before I strike. Instead of pummeling into Lincoln’s shoulders, I kick empty air and tumble onto the ground, landing flat on my back. Lincoln springs forward, pinning me to the mat, his hands holding mine immobile.
“I warned you about wrestling moves, Myla.”
“And I should have warned you about my tail.” With all my focus, I will the arrowhead end to curl, giving Lincoln a good punch in the gut.
But my tail has a mind of its own. Ignoring my commands, the arrowhead end slides up Lincoln’s arm and begins mussing his hair. Long brown strands fall over the Prince’s slate-blue and wheat-brown eyes. Half his mouth quirks with a grin.
“Some secret weapon you’ve got there.”
I groan. “My inner demon and I don’t always see eye-to-eye.”
Suddenly my brain slips out of battle mode, entering into the very pleasant sensation of Lincoln’s body atop mine. I twist my wrists; he holds me firmly to the mat. Damn, that’s hot. I stare at his mouth. Kiss me.
Nat steps up beside us. “You’ve proved your point, my Prince. I’ll fight the young Miss.” He nervously scans the room. “The pair of you need to be getting up.”
My eyes stay locked on Lincoln’s. “No.” My voice comes out a low whisper. “Just one.” I shift my hips so my leg brushes between his thighs. Come on.
Lincoln grins, then he leans in closer. His mouth presses onto mine and damn, he tastes better than I remember. Our tongues slide and explore while he holds me firmly to the mat. Desire burns through me, body and soul.
Somewhere on the mansion grounds, a lightning bolt strikes the earth, followed by a deep roll of thunder. I actively ignore the fact that this is the second time lightning has struck the moment I feel strong emotion for Lincoln. Kissing him is just too good.
Nat leans over, pulling on Lincoln’s shoulder. “That’s quite enough, you two.”
The Prince rolls to the side, then we both slowly rise to our feet. Damn, damn, damn. After feeling his touch, being this far away from him almost hurts.
Nat guides Lincoln off the practice mats. “Let’s begin the lesson.” He picks up a wooden weapon from the floor, tossing it between his hands. He pauses, eyeing me closely. “You’re a little bit of hellfire, aren’t you, young Miss?”
I grin. “I hope so.”
Nat and I shift into battle stance. He shows me some basic moves, and then we slide into a rhythm of thrusts and parries with our wooden swords. After a few minutes of lusty thoughts about Lincoln, my head clicks back into battle mode. There’s nothing but challenge and counter-challenge, dodge and strike. Lincoln watches from the sidelines, his arms folded over his chest. The hours fly by.
Nat pats me on the shoulder. “That’s all the time we have, little Miss. You done well.”
“Thanks, Nat. That was great.”
He raises his meaty pointer finger in my direction. “Don’t forget to practice. An hour with the sword, every day.”
“I won’t.” Stepping across the floor, I sit with my back to the ballroom wall, panting for breath.
Nat heaves the practice mats about, stacking one onto another. Lincoln sits down beside me, his hands gripping a water bottle way too tightly. My inner battle mode instantly ends. Worry, desire, and affection duke it out inside me.
I know what’s coming now. Bad news.
“Want some water?” Lincoln tilts the tall plastic bottle in my direction.
“Yes, please.” My tail slides the water from his hand. “And thanks for setting up training with Nat. He’s amazing.”
“I’m glad.” Lincoln drums his fingers on his knees. “I asked you here for another reason as well.” His voice is low.
My breath hitches. I won’t make him do this.
“I know what you’re about to say, Lincoln.” I take a swig from the bottle, hoping some water will steady my nerves. “Walker told me about the Earl of Acca. About Adair. It’s pretty obvious why Nat’s playing chaperone today.” Lincoln was only allowed off compound with some anti-Myla protection.
“Walker told you?” The muscles along his jaw tighten. “I’m gonna kill that guy. I told him to deliver a message, that’s it. He doesn’t even know you.”
Um, actually he does. Not that I’ll get into that right now. “He was only trying to help.”
Lincoln turns to me, his eyes stretching wide with disbelief. “And you still came here today?”
“Of course, I did.” I elbow him in the arm. “Besides, Walker said you had a master plan to defeat the Earl.”