He smiled, but with a little less of his earlier assurance. But he made a fair recovery.
“You are straying from the point.”
“The point of your sword, sweet sir?”
“The point of my discourse. It was concerning this matter of a blow. If you were a man I am afraid I should have to kill you. My honour would demand no less.”
“With your sword?” she asked him innocently.
“With my sword, of course.”
“Ugh. Jack the Giant-Killer in a cherry orchard! You must see you are out of place here. Get you gone, boy. I don’t think I ever liked you, Randal. Now I’m sure of it. You’re a bloody-minded fellow for all your tender years. What you’ll be when you’re a man ... I daren’t think.”
He swallowed the taunt.
“And what you’ll be when you’re a woman is the thing I delight in thinking. We’ll return to that. Meanwhile, this blow....”
“Oh, you’re tiresome.”