Free Frontline by Alexandra Richland Page A

their March issue.” He traces his fingertips up the side of my neck before venturing back down to my arm. “Quite a few pieces are sought after by museums.”
    “So do you just look at them or do they actually serve a purpose?”
    “Most of them are ancient relics that are not to be touched.” He surveys the room with pride and satisfaction. “A select few are an exception.”
    “Are you trained in swordplay?” My eyes roam to the bandage on his forehead.
    “I’m an expert fencer. I took lessons for many years, starting when I was just a boy. But I haven’t competed since college.”
    Hmm, it looks like that Wik i article needs to be updated.
    I think about watching Mr. Merrick in action, his muscles taut as he engages his opponent. Then my mind shifts to what those muscles would look like as Mr. Merrick engages me.
    Damn it, I’m in so much trouble.
    Now that I think about it, I would’ve been safer if Randall dropped me off at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. I’d rather take my chances with the wild animals in the forest —I’d have better success of standing up to them, I’m sure.
    I take a sip of my wine in an attempt to refocus. “Are these the only types of weapons you’re familiar with? Like swords and stuff like that?”
    His hand stills against my arm. “Yes.”
    I regard him casually, despite my suspicion. “You must’ve learned some great fencing moves if you trained for many years.”
    Mr. Merrick slips his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, his eyes shifting toward the wall. “The power is not in wielding the sword, but the discipline one must possess to be worthy to hold the weapon in the first place.”
    His forwardness makes it difficult for me to believe he’s good at restraining himself. If he’s holding back now, I can’t imagine what it’s like when he lets go, unleashing his fierce desire to claim, love, and protect.
    “You said you used to train in fencing? So you don’t anymore?”
    He shakes his head. “Now I just incorporate the sport into my regular workouts, which also include weight training and running. Fencing is grueling physically and helps keep me in great shape. It’s also mentally stimulating and enjoyable. Randall and I will hit the arena in my gym a few times a week to maintain our skill set.”
    “Randall? But he’s so—”
    “Old?” Mr. Merrick smirks. “He’s mightier with the sword than I’ll ever be and smart as a whip. Don’t let appearances fool you, Sara. That’s advice to live by.”
    Don’t let appearances fool you.
    Interesting.
    I recall Randall’s stamina with the stairs in my apartment building and suddenly it doesn’t seem so farfetched that he would face off against Mr. Merrick in the gym.
    “So do you use any of these weapons when you fence with Randall?”
    Mr. Merrick laughs. “No, it’s not that kind of swordplay, Sara. We use a foil—for thrusting . . .”
    Oh, thrusting with Mr. Merrick sounds so wicked.
    “The épée, for closer thrusting . . .”
    Closer thrusting. Even better.
    “And finally, the saber for cutting . . .”
    I crinkle my nose. Even my sex-crazed mind can’t come up with something erotic for that one.
    “That’s what professionals use in Olympic bouts.”
    “I see.” I nudge my chin in the direction of a weapon with carved hieroglyphics in the handle and a blade that’s at least two feet in length. “That’s quite the sword you have there. It’s very . . . long and thick.”
    “I’ve seen bigger,” Mr. Merrick says with an air of confidence.
    I raise my eyebrows. “Bigger, huh?”
    His mouth twitches at the sides. “You have no idea.”
    Mr. Merrick steps behind me, his body hard and warm against my back. My breath catches as I anticipate his next move. He sweeps my hair aside, exposing my neck, and brushes his lips to the sensitive skin below my ear. I shiver as he begins to knead my shoulders.
    “You’re so tight , Sara” He groans and places a soft kiss to