Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

Again and again she forced him backward, forced him to yield to her onslaught. As his back smacked against the ruins of the old abbey wall, he jarred to a stop, losing his grip on his weapon. His foil clattered to the ground between them.

For a moment they just stared at each other, their shoulders heaving as they panted for air. And then her eyes grew wide with shock as she realized what this meant. She’d beat him. For the first time ever, she had won. Eleanor pointed her blade directly at his heart, as the certainty of victory visibly engulfed her.

He’d never been so proud of anyone in his entire life; he was nearly bursting with the force of it. “That’s the girl I wanted to see. You’re a fighter, Elle; never forget it. Malcolm can’t take from you what you refuse to let him have.”

She stood stock still, her gaze assessing as she worked to calm her breathing. At that moment, the sun crested over the horizon, illuminating the pride in her eyes. God, but she was gorgeous. Had anyone ever looked more beautiful with messy hair and a dirt-streaked face?

“If you tell me,” she said sternly, “that this was all meant to teach me some sort of lesson, I may very well plunge this foil into your heart, Nicolas Norton.”

He chuckled before dragging his sleeve over his sweaty forehead. “Bloodthirsty wench.” Grabbing her foible, he pulled the weapon from her grasp. She didn’t fight him, easily surrendering her hold. He dropped it to the ground beside his own, and held out his hand to her. “Come here.”

“I will not,” she said, straightening her shoulders imperiously. “In case you didn’t notice, I won.”

It was all he could do not to tug her into his arms right then. “Yes, and as such, you may collect your spoils, same as I always have.” He turned his cheek, screwing up his face just as she invariably did whenever he claimed his prize, pretending he didn’t want her to kiss him.

Hoping like hell she would.

Her laughter was full of delight, heady in its sweetness. “Do you know, Mr. Norton, for the first time in your life, I think you may have earned a kiss.”





ELEANOR STEPPED TOWARD HIM, feeling strong and in control in a way she hadn’t in days. Years perhaps. Nothing was solved, but hope had been renewed. Faith in herself had been restored. She could at least try for another solution. Nick had given her that much, and for that she adored him.

For the next few moments, at least—then they could return to being adversaries.

With his damp shirt plastered to his body, he looked every bit the gladiator, standing tall and proud on the heels of victory. Ironic, considering he had lost, but still somehow fitting. She hadn’t been exaggerating—he had truly earned a reward.

As she leaned forward, his chest rose with a sharp intake of air. She flicked her gaze from his cheek to his expression, and froze, only inches away. His green eyes were burning, his lips slightly parted. Awareness washed over her, cascading through her veins and landing deep in her belly. All at once the moment took on a whole new meaning.

She wasn’t just sharing an innocent moment with her step-cousin. She was standing almost chest-to-chest with a tall, powerful, handsome-as-sin man.

Alone.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, pounding harder than it had during their entire match. His smell was familiar, his eyes exactly as they had always been, but somehow everything seemed different.

Slowly, deliberately he turned his head until they faced each other directly, the very air they breathed mingling in the narrow space between them. The morning light caressed them as they stood completely still, unable to look away. She knew it should feel wrong—this was Nicolas!—but nothing had ever felt more natural.

Her eyes dropped to his lips. For once they were without any hint of that rakish smile with which he so loved to torture her. He’d always seemed so young, but all she could see right then was the man he had become.

A man her very heart seemed to be beating for.

And yet, still neither of them moved. A sixth sense told her that as soon as they did, nothing would ever be the same. He would never again be little Nick, thorn in her side. Uncertainty warred with unfamiliar passion, and she dragged her gaze up to meet his, helpless as to what to do.

For a moment, she thought he would act, pressing his lips to hers and releasing the desire that both tantalized and terrified her. She held her breath, afraid to so much as blink. How was it possible she could want something so badly, and at the same time want to escape, to run from the emotions she wasn’t prepared for?