Guarded Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

brow, perhaps for her ironic tone. “Because your lower limbs are in more equal proportion to your torso, compared to men with their longer legs, you will be more stable as you move up and down the strip, less likely to stumble or be forced backward against your will. Women are neater in their movements, generally speaking, also not given to wasting effort with showy moves that have no purpose. Some masters feel that women are better able to divide their attention during contests, to concentrate on what their opponent is doing while planning their next attack.”
    If he was aware of the sacrilege in speaking to her of lower limbs, he seemed not to recognize it. That fact allowed her to ignore the heat in her own face. “And the disadvantages, since I’m sure you mean to point those out to me?”
    â€œA shorter reach in the lunge for most females, merely because their arms are not as long in proportion to their bodies. Added to that is an ingrained reluctance to attack when the opportunity presents itself or to take advantage of an opponent’s weakness.” His smile twisted. “The last two are traits to be encouraged in future wives and mothers, of course. You will have to overcome whatever lessons you may have learned in that direction.”
    â€œI’ll endeavor to do so. Is there more?”
    He tipped his head in assent as he turned to lift the other foil from its case. “Look at your weapon, if you please.”
    â€œYes?” She held it in imitation of the way he handled his, with her right hand grasping the handle and the tip balanced on the fingers of her left.
    â€œThis is a foil, the practice weapon of fencing, lighter than an épée, more limber by far than a sword. It will become an extension of your arm, another finger on your hand.”
    What followed then was careful instruction in the various parts of the fencing foil—handle and pommel, guard, crossbar, blade and blunted end—plus its care and cleaning. He then fitted the one she held to her hand, adding padding so the handle would not be too large, and showing her exactly how to hold it. She was introduced to the idea of the canvas chest padding which protected vital organs and the screen mask which prevented facial injury—these last by description only since they were not on hand this evening. When that was done, he directed her attention to the canvas fencing strip where he pointed out the exacting etiquette which applied there at all times, including the salute to an opponent and other aspects of sporting conduct.
    Ariadne listened to every word as if her life depended on it, which it might. As he spoke, her gaze rested on the face of the sword master. It was plain that he took special pleasure in the details of the profession he had embraced. His thoroughness also hinted at why he was a master of it. She could respect that, if nothing else.
    She had no wish to respect him, nor did she care to stand listening to the rhythm of his deeply mellow English voice which gave his French such a musical lilt. He was much too personable, too utterly sure of himself and his skill. The set of his shoulders and tilt of his golden head, the superb athletic control with which he moved, his manner of dress and the excellent fit of his clothing—everything about him set her teeth on edge. She could feel the magnetism of his masculine presence aligned to an effortless charisma which seemed to draw her to him. The way the light in the long room fell across his face—gilding it, picking out hollows, angles and shadows—was far too intriguing. The caverns of darkness beyond the candle’s glow and the clattering rain outside the windows closed them in together in a most disturbing manner. If they did not soon get down to the business at hand, she would scream.
    â€œMonsieur Blackford,” she said at last. “I have no desire or plan to set myself up as a female teacher of fencing. The