“Risk injury?” she repeated. “Without being punched?”
“Have you not engaged in anything that has potential to cause you damage without letting your body warm up a bit?”
“I have not,” she answered. She wagged her finger at him. “Remember, ladies are not encouraged to be engaged in particularly strenuous endeavors. Walking and riding at most. Oh, and dancing, of course. All meant to show one off to the best advantage to get a husband.”
“It is strange,” he mused with a touch of horror. “I think so little about what ladies are not allowed to do that I do appreciate these moments with you. You show me what I need to see, and that allows me to do better.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she said, stunned again. Where was the arrogant duke who had not even wished to meet her? “When we first met, I was fairly certain you hated those moments.”
“I do hate them,” he said. “They make me feel uncomfortable. But that doesn’t mean they’re not valuable to me. I am so used to being right that it’s very difficult to be told when I’m wrong. Still, I do not need to be right all the time. Such a thing is impossible anyway.”
“Do my ears deceive me?” she teased. “Does the duke admit he can be wrong on occasion?”
“More than ‘on occasion,’ but promise not to tell anyone.”
She made the motion of buttoning her lips. “I shall keep your secrets if you keep mine.”
His eyes darkened at that comment.
She had no idea why.
Darkened not with anger but with something else. Something exciting.
“So, what shall I do?” she said, not quite sure what to make of the sudden warmth traveling through her veins. “I am your pupil. I offer myself up to your tutelage.”
“Let’s bounce a bit.” True to statement, he began to bounce on his toes.
She started to laugh. “Are we to dance? Is this a reel or a jig?”
“No,” he replied. “There shall be neither reel nor jig, though both dances could be argued as eminently helpful in the avoiding of one’s opponent.”
She frowned. “I thought one just merely stood there and punched at the other person.”
“If you stand still, you will be hit and hit good,” he pointed out, sliding his coat off his broad shoulders.
Her breath caught in her throat as he turned to face her in his green brocade waistcoat, which hugged his torso in a way that made her wish to discover what lay beneath the layers.
“Oh, dear,” she said. “So I must dodge about.”
“If you wish to be the victor, yes.” William untied his cuffs, then slowly rolled the linen shirt up his forearms. “Being still is quite dangerous.”
She found the process of revealing his lower arms to be…fascinating. The sinew and skin over bone. . .
Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe as adequately as she liked, and they had not even begun.
“That’s interesting,” she forced herself to reply, trying not to fixate on how he was revealing more and more of himself. “Being still in life is quite dangerous, too.”
“Whatever do you mean?” he asked, crossing to her.
She licked her lips, rather disappointed he did not need to remove anything else. “Well, if you stand still, you don’t grow and you don’t change. Of course, it’s good for a moment’s tranquility, but to remain still for too long, well, that’s death of opportunity.”
“You have the mind of a philosopher,” he observed.
She rolled her eyes. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it. Others have put it in a less flattering light.”
“Others,” he said firmly, “are fools.”
Those words—those affirming words that she was in the right, not everyone else—sent a wave of sheer happiness through her, and she couldn’t stop the smile that tilted her lips.