Harrison stared at the woman on the other end
of the scimitar and tried to remember exactly
how he’d come to have a sword pointed at his
smokes!” The woman sucked in a breath,
clamped a hand over her mouth, and dropped the
on top of him.
pommel conked him on the head and the blade
spun around, almost taking off his nose.
leapt to his feet and grabbed the sword in one
movement, the hours spent in football training
drills thankfully having real-world
application, although he’d never imagined
that would be to defend his life during a trip
back to his ancestral home in the middle of
he got a good look at the woman. A more
unlikely assassin he’d never seen.
Hand-to-hand combat was not the ideal way to
handle this situation; hand to mouth was. Or
rather, mouth to mouth.
woman was gorgeous. Movie-star gorgeous.
Playmate gorgeous. Even in a fencer’s
outfit—which was about as asexual as you
could get—the woman was absolutely stunning
with curves straight out of his most vivid
erotic fantasy, eyes the shimmering
silvery-gray color of the sky before a storm
that promised every bit as much of a wild
ride, and hair the color of a mink that Zane
wanted to sink his fingers into and never let
go. And he was most definitely stunned. But
not only by her looks.
she muttered. “Not en
garde.” She shook her head,
mumbled something else, then looked up at him.
“Good day, um…?”
would hate to see what she called a bad day if
a good one was ending up on the wrong end of a
sword. “Who are you, and what the hell is
this?” He shook the sword.
licked her lips—more centerfold fodder. They
were plump and pink and now wet.
maybe it was
a good day.
Vana, and that’s a scimitar.” Her
expression was crestfallen and her sigh
heartbroken. “I couldn’t even manage a
made about as much sense as anything else.