Her Notorious Viscount (16 page)

Not a woman like her, that was certain.

“You shall see, Jane, after the party in a few days, everything will change.”

She opened her eyes and forced another smile for her jubilant former employer who meant so well. “You are right about that, my lady.
Everything
.”

But she intended to enjoy every moment she had left with Nicholas before that inevitable moment.

Near the fireplace, Nicholas and his friend Ronan Riley, the one he called Rage, were talking, their heads close together. Jane’s shiver grew deeper, and not for any fearful reason.

Nicholas was wearing some of his older clothing. A simple pair of trousers rode low on his narrow hips and a cream-colored shirt made from a rough cotton cloth was unfastened to mid-chest. She allowed herself a moment to stare at him before he became aware of her presence. The simple clothing suited him, as much as she hated to admit it. It brought out the wild side of him that the fancier apparel served to oppress.

Would he ever find a balance between the truth of himself and the image Society desired?

She shook her head. It didn’t signify. She would be long gone from his life by the time he resolved that matter. It was not her concern.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice cracking as she tried to draw their attention.

Both men straightened up, and Nicholas smiled as he crossed the room toward her. Jane caught her breath at the sight. He was all lean muscle and casual, elegant swagger as he moved. In those moments, even with his face unshaven and his clothing inappropriate, she knew he would be accepted back into Society. He had too much magnetism to be denied. Women would swoon when he passed and men would stare at him in envy.

She wouldn’t be needed anymore. Perhaps she never truly was.

“Hello, Jane,” he drawled as he stopped before her.

He tilted his head to examine her face, and Jane blushed. Surely he could read her thoughts as clearly as ever. That was one skill he seemed to have from the beginning. He could invade her feelings without even trying.

“You look tired,” he said softly, only for her ears.

“A gentleman never says such a thing about a lady,” she chastised.

He arched a brow and simply looked at her for a long, charged moment. “I am not being a gentleman,” he finally noted. “I am being your friend.”

Jane jerked her gaze to him in surprise at that statement. Friends. Was that what they were? Sometimes it seemed like it. And sometimes it seemed like much more floated between them.

“It was a trying day,” she finally admitted.

His frown drew down, and a dark anger entered his bright eyes. Reaching out, he briefly touched her upper arm and nodded. Then he released her and turned back to Rage.

“I would like to do a brief sparring demonstration, Rage. Then I’ll work with Jane alone.”

“Of course,” Rage said with a knowing twinkle in his eye that made Jane’s blush even hotter. “And a good evening to you, Miss Jane.”

She smiled at the fighter. “Good evening, Mr. Riley.”

“Why don’t you sit over there,” Nicholas said, motioning to a comfortable chair across the room. “I’ll talk you through what we’re doing.” His voice elevated a fraction. “And you can watch while I put Rage here on his arse a few times.”

“Only if you’re lucky.” Rage chuckled as he went to work stripping off his shirt and wrapping his hands with a thin strip of cloth.

Jane found herself shamefully holding her breath as she watched Nicholas walk away. In one movement, he stripped open the final buttons on his shirt. As he tugged it away, she clenched her fingers against the armrest of her chair. There was no point in denying the absolute desire she felt for the man. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

And she liked it. She liked the achy, nervous feeling low in her belly. She liked the anticipation of not
if
he would kiss her, but when. And that morning, when she found herself pinned beneath him, she liked it when he touched her so intimately.

Worse, she wanted more, even though she
knew
there was no future between them other than a few more stolen days at most.

The two men moved to the middle of the empty room, mercifully cutting off her desperate and needy thoughts. She watched as they circled each other, their hands raised up in fists close to their heads.

“I keep my hands up in order to protect myself,” Nicholas called over his shoulder without looking. “If I lower them, Rage could slip in a powerful shot and knock me out before I even get to fight.”

“And I have,” Rage taunted good-naturedly. “Many a time.”

Nicholas laughed, but didn’t stop circling or lower his hands. “There are several kinds of punches, but today I’ll focus on a jab for you.”

Without warning, he shot his right hand out straight forward and caught Rage in the stomach. Jane gasped out her shock, but even though the other man gave him a look and grunted, the punch didn’t seem to disturb Rage’s good humor.

“That punch has the most power. I’ll show you how to increase it later.” Nicholas grinned at his friend. “Ready for the real show?”

“Whenever you are,” Rage said.

Their circling suddenly increased in its urgency and Jane felt the electric tension in the air double. Nicholas no longer spoke as he moved, and Rage’s grin had been replaced by a focused stare.

Without warning, the circling ended. Nicholas moved forward and threw three punches in rapid succession, a right, a left, and another right that swung around in a looping motion. Rage rocked back from the blows, but immediately countered with a quick jab to Nicholas’s body.

Jane rushed to her feet as the two men ended up grappling, locked in a close clinch as they struggled for supremacy. They broke apart again, moving around each other. As the shock of watching the two friends battle wore off, Jane began to understand the basics of what they were doing.

Each man was looking for the right opening, a place where he could throw at least one punch, although the combinations of blows seemed to do the most damage. But they were not just attacking, they always had to defend as well, blocking a punch even as they threw another.

As much as it shocked her, Jane had to admit there was beauty to it, and clear intelligence.

The blows continued to be exchanged until finally Rage staggered back, catching himself with one hand on the back of a settee. Both men were panting with exertion, and Rage lifted a hand in what looked like an act of submission.

Nicholas grinned and moved up to tap knuckles with his friend. “That punch to my ribs nearly put me out.” He laughed, as if they had been playing a boyish game rather than pounding on each other.

Rage shook his head. “If you’d caught me more squarely on the chin with that roundhouse, this fight would have been over far more quickly. Good sparring match.”

Nicholas thumped his friend on the back and then turned toward Jane. When he saw she was on her feet, he moved toward her. “I hope we didn’t frighten you.”

She shook her head, shocked that she
wasn’t
afraid. “I have never seen two men exchange blows like that. I admit I was taken aback, but I can appreciate why it interests you, and why others come to see it. Have you ever played chess?”

He nodded as he began to strip off the cloth that gave his knuckles some small amount of protection. “Yes.”

“That is what it reminded me of,” she mused, trying not to stare blatantly at his now sweaty chest. “A very violent physical chess match.”

Rage tossed his own hand wraps across the back of a chair and gave the two a quick, dramatic bow. “Good evening. Miss Jane, I do hope to see you again soon.”

She waved to him as he departed the room, closing the door behind him and leaving them alone.

Nicholas refocused his attention on her. “That is actually a very good comparison,” he said with admiration. “In chess, one must not only look at the move before him, but think several moves ahead. It’s the same in a fight. It’s not just the next punch, but what combination that punch can lead to.”

“And what defense,” Jane pointed out.

He smiled broadly, and for a moment Jane sensed a sort of childlike pleasure that she understood his life’s passion.

“Not many women would see it that way,” he said as he beckoned her to the middle of the room.

She shrugged one shoulder. “Many women mince and faint because that is what they believe is expected of them. But I cannot imagine any woman not appreciating the way you moved tonight.”

The instant she said the words, Jane wished she could take them back. They had two meanings, and she had intended them both. Judging by the way Nicholas’s lids grew heavy and his smile took on that feral, animal quality it sometimes possessed, he knew it.

“For now I only care if
you
appreciate my…moves,” he drawled. Then he chuckled, and the heavy weight of the moment passed. “Allow me to show you some basic defenses.”

Jane did not resist as Nicholas positioned himself behind her. One big hand slipped around to cup her hip, adjusting her stance until her legs were wider and one was situated in front of the other. His hands lingered against her body for a moment too long before they slid away.

Jane held back a sigh. She felt his body heat behind her, caressing her as surely as his touch. And she smelled him, too. That hot combination of clean sweat, sandalwood, and the spicy scent that was only Nicholas wrapped around her in a pleasant, dizzying blanket.

He moved to stand in front of her, and she blinked a few times in the hopes that her hazy desire wouldn’t be completely evident.

“Now you want to raise your hands as I did,” he explained.

She lifted her shaky fists and positioned them in as close a manner as she could. He adjusted her gently until she was in the right position.

“In a scenario where you’re being attacked,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, “it won’t be as polite as what you saw between Rage and me.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she thought of the battle the two friends had just waged. But Nicholas didn’t return the expression. To her surprise, he was utterly serious.

“I know what you’re thinking, but there are rules in a fight like ours. I’ll hurt an opponent if I must, but that isn’t my main goal. A man who attacks you will not live up to those standards. So you can’t fight politely, either. Kick him between the legs, gouge his eye, flatten your palm to his nose, whatever it takes to protect yourself.”

Jane’s smile faded as she stared up at Nicholas. The solutions he was describing would be born of dire situations, indeed. She shivered.

“I don’t think my cousin would have harmed me.” She turned her head. “At least, I must hope he wouldn’t have. His actions shocked me, but he didn’t hurt me.”

Nicholas’s mouth thinned to an angry line that she had never seen before. “Perhaps he would not have, but I don’t want you to be in a position where you test that theory.”

Slowly, she jerked out a nod. “Then how should I punch him or anyone else who dared attack me?”

“Shoot your fist out straight, twisting your hips to give the hit the most power. Try it.” He flicked his fingers toward himself.

Her eyes widened. “You wish for me to hit
you
?”

He nodded with a small laugh. “You won’t hurt me.”

She frowned. He was so cocksure. She threw the punch. He leaned back so her fist skimmed over his chin without fully connecting. Frustrated, she threw again, trying to mimic his movements as he easily leaned away from them. Every so often, he would adjust her fist or demonstrate a proper stance. Eventually Jane was exhausted, and she leaned over to catch her breath.

“That’s enough for tonight,” Nicholas said with a smile. “You are a natural. You could make a mint in the underground. I’m sure men would pay to watch you fight.”

Jane couldn’t help but laugh at the absurd idea of fighting for a living. “But you were correct, I didn’t hurt you. In fact, I hardly hit you at all. So how could I manage to hurt a man of your size who was intent on causing me harm?”

He shook his head. “I knew your attack was coming. I helped plan it. Many women don’t even think to fight back when attacked. Someone who was intent on hurting you would not be ready for it. If you do land a punch, be sure to follow it up with another attack. A kick, a second punch. And then run.”

Again, she shivered. “I hope I will never have to use those skills.”

He cupped her chin and tilted her face toward his. Those bright blue eyes drew her in, forced her to continue staring when the intensity within made her want to pull away.

“I hope so, too,” he whispered. “Now, do you have any questions?”

She shivered. “Why did you tattoo yourself?”

He froze, and his hand drifted away in surprise. “On my back?”

She nodded, a flush darkening her cheeks. But with Nicholas there was no use trying to pretend away the question.

“That was one thing I did not expect you to ask.” He chuckled.

She shrugged one shoulder. “I have wondered, that is all. I’ve not seen anything like it.”

“Have you had much occasion to gaze upon half-naked men?” he teased, but behind the playfulness his earlier intensity remained.