Arven gave a bark of laughter at her reply; he agreed, of course. There was no reason to be frightened. But he could not help but feel that any other girl in her position — daintily-dressed, well-groomed, raised for nothing but high society — would be a little scared rambling through the woods with a wild stranger.

Not this one though.

He turned to walk backwards now along the path, gazing down from the closed parasol back up to its straight-faced mistress. "Is that so? Do you think you could battle me with a parasol?" His tone was playful, roguish. There would be no need to fight him.

Unless she wanted to prove a point.