A peal of laughter erupted from her.
But then…then she felt it. The power of his touch on her shoulder. The way their bodies connected and how she stumbled back, lost balance, overcorrected, and fell through the air toward him. Just as if gravity conspired to make them one.
He caught her, his arm swooping around her waist.
The length of his body stroked hers as she slid against him. Her skirts enveloped his legs, and she grabbed onto his shoulders. Her breasts pressed into his hard chest, and his scent surrounded her. It was a terrifying heaven, for there was nothing formal about this hold.
A long pulse of need traveled through her. She did not know what to do, it so overtook her.
His hands froze on her body as he clasped her to him. For one agonizing moment, he angled his head toward her, his dark hair dancing against his cheeks. His palms pressed into her side, holding her tightly to him as if he did not wish to ever let her go.
And then he abruptly set her to rights and stepped back, his chest expanding in a deep breath.
“My goodness,” she confessed, brushing her hands down her skirts, desperate to put her rioting thoughts in place. “You were not mistaken.”
“If you do not have your balance right,” he replied, his voice lower and rougher than before, “you shall keel over faster than a drunk after a long tipple.”
“How very vivid,” she replied, still feeling his arm about her middle. She’d liked the feel of it. Yes, she’d liked it far too well, for she could still feel the strong sinew of his forearm pressed to her side.
“Keep your knees bent,” he said simply. “Adjust your step. Your feet must not be parallel. If you have one slightly in front of the other, you will have a better purchase.”
She did as instructed, her insides aflutter at his nearness as he continued.
“Good. Very nice. Now—”
“Yes?” she prompted, meeting his gaze, which sparked as it took in her stance.
“Here. I shall show you,” he said, quickly crossing to her side and facing the windows as she did.
He brought his guard up, and she almost laughed, for his fists were above her head.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked.
“You are so very tall,” she observed honestly, craning her neck to make good view of him. “I shall get quite a crick if I have to continue in this.”
“A seeming difficulty,” he admitted, his lips tilting with amusement. “But height is not necessarily an advantage.”
“Is it not?” she asked, hardly believing it. He all but towered over her, despite the fact she was no waif. “I would have thought being the biggest and the strongest was the best advantage.”
“It is a good advantage,” he agreed. “But it is not necessary to win. Sometimes, to be the smallest and the fastest is the best.”
“Why?” she queried, suspicious that he was merely placating her. “Couldn’t you knock me flat with your fist?”
He cringed at the very idea, apparently. “Yes,” he concurred. “I could knock someone of your size into next week if I wished.”
She marveled at the idea of his power, but she was also glad to know that he would never do such a thing to her. Will was a man of honor. That was very clear.
She did not envy his brothers and the men who came into play with those fists for entertainment. How anyone could wish to be entertained by having their head struck, she did not know.
Men truly were odd.
“If you are fast and nimble,” he pointed out easily, “you can outmaneuver me and you can tire me out so that I don’t even get a blow in.” He gazed down at her. “You see, my reach is longer—”
She shook her head, confused. “What do you mean by reach?”
Slowly, he stretched out his arm and placed it on her shoulder. “Do you see?”
She studied that arm, swallowing. Indeed, she could see how long and muscled it was through the thin linen. And she felt the power and energy of him through his palm resting on her capped sleeve.