you anyway?"
“ Your worst nightmare, blackguard," she responded, pressing the dagger to his skin. "Do not move. I will happily slit your throat."
He could barely see the blade but he felt its cold sting. The girl's voice held a curious blend of accents, English and some unidentifiable lilt. He abruptly placed her in memory. "Why it’s you!" He looked at her angrily. "I knew you would be trouble." He wondered out loud as he looked about the room again, "Where is Tilly?"
This made no sense. "Tilly?"-
"You have at least met her? Well, curse the good woman to hell and back—"
The knife pierced his skin. "I am not interested in this Tilly. I do not think you grasp my eagerness to use your weapon. Shall I show you, blackguard?"
His hazel eyes narrowed with annoyance. "So you want to play with danger, do you?" Seanessy seized the offending hand in a hard grip. "Well, listen up, child: you have mounted me naked as I slept and though, normally," he said as his gaze dropped to a tempting peak of breast beneath the thin cotton of his shirt, "I wouldn't be interested in sinking my flesh into a battered bag of thin bones, you're a bit more than passing fair, child; I suspect you'd do in a pinch."
She first was confused, a confusion quickly overcome by shock. Why, he talked of rutting! With her!
Color shot to her cheeks and all of it evidence of fury. More when he added, "And the pinch of it is, child, this waking heat in my loins and an otherwise empty bed."
"You dare threaten me with rutting!"
"Rutting?" He almost laughed. "Pigs rut, child, I—"
She never let him finish, for she never warned twice. A swift jerk of her arm between his thumb and forefinger freed her wrist in an instant as her other clenched fist shot straight and swift and strong, landing a goodly blow at his throat. His neck collapsed painfully and he choked, sitting up to cough.
"What the blazes!"
The girl was trained in the Oriental art.
Seanessy's face changed with his astonishment. More as she leaned over to calmly set the dagger down on the bed. She did not need a knife to kill him. Had she wanted to, the blow at his throat could have been his end; he too knew the move well.
"I do not need a weapon, I need some answers and you will give—"
He never let her finish. He snapped his arm up to his side. Instantly her hand shot out with a quick slice that, had he not anticipated it, would have cracked bone. As it was, a slight jerk made her hit air, while a twist brought her arm behind her back with force, and before she could adjust to his speed, his free hand had struck her at the elbow. She gasped as her arm bent back. His strength knocked her forward to lay on his chest with her arms trapped and held tightly behind her, and knowing the impossibly long legs were far more deadly than her arms, he wrapped his legs around them, pinning them firmly to the bed, her body to his.
Never had Seanessy enjoyed anyone's surprise more.
She could not breathe, then she was breathing too fast. She tried to control it, but this was not possible with the shocking sensation of being held so tightly against his strong body. Hot waves of shock emanated from every place their bodies touched, pulsating most from the vulnerable apex between her legs where she felt his hardness. Her breasts pressed against his chest. A hot congestion grew there, and breathlessly she lifted her head to meet his laughing hazel eyes, realizing their mouths were but inches apart.
"Your Oriental masters should have told you that as pretty as these tricks are, they are no match for a good London street fighter. Though really, child, my mind is as anxious as my body to learn what you will do now."
Her stomach turned queer somersaults as she felt his hard throbbing heat between her legs, somersaults that melted into an alarming hot gush.
A deep husky groan rose up, and to her innocent ears, it sounded like the growl of a wild beast. She tried to hide her fear, her training demanded this, but