I give my head a shake. That must be some modern implement. Even in my day, one hardly sees swords outside of a gymnasium, as I well know, having been training in the art for several years, lessons which I consider important for my writing... and great fun.
I lift my head just as the man reaches for something on the table. It’s a bone-handled knife, tip wedged into the cutting-block tabletop. He grabs the knife and flips it, nimble and confident. One last twirl, and then he drops it into a sheath at his side.
Is this a guest of the Thornes, invited to use the house in their absence? Would they dare such a thing in a house with a time portal, where a guest might walk into another century while simply looking for more blankets?
That’s when I remember the open kitchen door. Is it still broken in the future? Could this be an intruder? He does not look like a thief. Also, I rather doubt a thief would write at the table before absconding with the silver.
I consider the matter. Then I take my pocketknife from my boot and slide it where it belongs—in a pocket. I design all my own clothing so that I might have pockets, and I have even converted my sister Portia to the wonders of pocketed skirts, though she insists on using hers for so-called practical items, such as pocket watches and pocket money. What is a pocketknife if not practical? Sometimes I despair of ever understanding my older sisters.
The man has moved to a spot I cannot see. There’s a clattering of dishes that covers the sound of my journey from couch to doorway. Then a sigh and a struck match, as if he’s settling in with a pipe or cheroot.
All goes quiet as he presumably smokes, and I contemplate my options. If he is a guest, I should leave, but I am not yet ready to venture into the wider world of the future. I must borrow some of Bronwyn Thorne’s clothing first. Can I slip upstairs and—?
The cold tip of a knife digs into my neck.
“Do not move,” a voice growls behind me. “I have no wish to harm you but—”
I swing around, my own knife raised. Or that is the plan, but he’s too close for a proper “swing,” and instead, I find myself pressed against the wall withhisknife at my throat.
My word, he has gorgeous eyes.
That isnotwhat I should be thinking, and yet, it is all I am thinking as I stare up into gold-flecked brown eyes ringed with enviable lashes.
“You have the most beautiful eyes,” I say.
He blinks and pulls back. “What?”
I drop my gaze. “I am sorry, sir. That was very forward of me, but I could not help notice—”
I shove him, hard. As he staggers back, I dart to the side. He lunges to grab me, but I meet the attack with a push hard enough to send him flying backward over a footstool. His knife clatters to the floor, and I launch myself on him like a cat, landing on his chest, my own blade flying to his throat.
I tense, ready for him to throw me off. Instead, he only says, “I suppose I deserve this.”
I’d heard his voice earlier, but I’d been too worried about my predicament to really hear it. Now that I do, it’s beautiful, a light contralto with a French accent, made even more melodious by a wry lilt to the words.
“Yes, you do deserve it,” I say. “Now—”
He bucks under me, legs flying up. I brace myself and stay where I am.
“I used a distraction trick on you moments ago,” I say. “Do you really think I’d fall for one myself?”
He sighs and thumps his head back to the floor. “All right. You have bested me, fair maiden. There is a little money in my jacket pocket, which I left in the kitchen. It is yours.”
I propel myself up, my free hand wrapped around the pommel of his sword. I dance away with it in my hand.
He only sighs and shakes his head as he rises. “Put that down, child.”
“Child?” I sputter. “We are of an age.”
“Hardly,” he says. “I am six-and-twenty.”
“As am I.”
He smiles. “Does anyone actually believe such a story, child? You cannot be more than eighteen. Now put down that sword, or I shall be forced to take it from you.”
I raise the weapon, and his eyes harden.
“Do not play this game, little one,” he says as he comes toward me. “A sword is a dangerous weapon that requires years of training, and you will injure yourself if you attempt to use it.”