Lord of Wicked Intentions
Page 47

He jerked his gaze over to her. “What? No, of course not. That would be distracting, give you an unfair advantage.” He pulled up one of the ropes, creating a small archway. “Come on. In you go.”
“What are we doing here?”
“Eventually you’ll be on your own. Someone might try to take advantage. You need to know how to defend yourself.”
“You’re going to teach me how to box?”
He shook his head, locks of his dark hair falling forward, making him appear both younger and more dangerous. “I’m going to teach you how to fight.”
“I could punch Geoffrey.”
“If you like. I’ll hold him for you.”
“That wouldn’t be fair.”
“I don’t believe in fighting fair; I believe in fighting to win. Now come on. Into the boxing ring you go.”
She could hardly countenance this, or the exhilaration that fissured through her. She suspected not all the excitement had to do with what he was about to teach her, but with the fact that the sight of him without a shirt was causing something rather giddy to occur in her stomach. As she got nearer, she spied the darkened flesh over his ribs. “Oh my God, you’re bruised.”
Without thought, she reached out and touched it with her gloved hand. Stiffening, he took in a sharp breath, the air hissing between his teeth.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have tended it.”
Wrapping his long fingers around her wrist, he moved her hand away. “I’m on a short tether here, Eve. If my shirt had come off in your bedchamber, your nightdress would’ve as well.”
She looked at him through widened eyes. “Surely not when you’re hurt.”
“When I’m hurt, when I’m ill, when I’m on my deathbed.”
“Is it that way for all men?”
He gave her an expression of pure exasperation. “I have no idea. I don’t discuss this with men. I only know what it’s like for me. Now, into the ring you go.”
As she ducked beneath the hemp, she doubted he discussed anything with anyone, but as he was more worldly than she, she suspected he thought a great deal about what it might be like between them. She was finding her own thoughts turning in that direction more often. She didn’t want to find herself attracted to him, but she couldn’t deny that he was a fine specimen. She didn’t want to stare at him, but it was so very difficult to look away. His arms were firm and muscled. Sinewy. While he didn’t want her arms around him, she realized she would very much enjoy having his arms around her.
“—bring him to his knees.”
“Pardon?” She realized he’d been talking while she’d been lost in thought.
He sighed. “Pay attention, Eve. I was explaining that a man is most vulnerable between his legs. Kick him there and you’ll drop him like a felled tree.”
“I see.”
“With your skirts and petticoats, it’s unlikely that you’ll be able to kick high enough—”
“Well, unless he’s a dwarf. Then I should be able to manage it quite well.”
He stared at her, then released a sharp bark of laughter. It made her smile to hear the sound echoing around her. “If he’s a dwarf, you should be able to outrun him, so let’s assume he’s not a dwarf.” He moved nearer to her and she folded her fingers against her palm so she wouldn’t reach out and touch him again. “You want to allow him to get close.” He curled his hands over her shoulders. “All the while looking innocent—”
She widened her eyes, blinked them.
He grinned. “Well done. He’ll be arrested by your eyes and not notice when you slyly position your leg between his. Then bring your knee up as quickly and as hard as you can.”
She did. Growling, he released her and dropped down to all fours, breathing heavily, head bent. “You . . . weren’t . . . supposed to . . . do it.”
She knelt. “How am I to learn if I’m doing it properly? Are you all right?”
“Just give me a moment.”
She dearly wanted to comfort him, to rub his back and shoulders, to lean in and kiss his forehead. When had she begun to stop wishing that calamity would befall him? Uncomfortable with the thought that perhaps she wanted to be with him, she glanced around. “Suppose while I’m waiting for you to recover, I could take a look about, peek in at the gaming rooms.”
“No.”
“After you teach me to fight, will you teach me to gamble?”
He peered up at her. “No.”
“You rather fancy that word, don’t you?”
With a deep breath, he sat back on his heels. “Why would you risk losing on the turn of a card what it is going to cost you so much to gain?”
“It does seem rather senseless, I suppose.”
“Yes, it does.” He shoved himself to his feet and pulled her to hers. “Now make a fist.”
She curled her fingers around her thumb, tucked everything up against her palm. Taking her hand, he unfurled her fingers. “You want your thumb on the outside, covering your first two fingers. And you want to keep your fist level with your wrist, braced so it doesn’t go up or down. Less likely to break your bones that way.” He held up his palms. “Now punch a hand.”
“I’ll hurt you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Hearing the slap of her fist against his palm, she didn’t much like it.