In the Dark with the Duke by Christi Caldwell Page 0,52

breaking into a nobleman’s household.” And mayhap he was all the way mad, for he found himself shrugging out of his jacket and laying it atop her cloak. “What is this place?”

He didn’t imagine the long beat of silence between his question and her answer.

“Some years ago, the lord who lives here issued a redesign,” she said sotto voce. “He was the earl who was reported to have been fleeced by a builder. To cut costs and maximize his earnings, the builder constructed new halls around the old ones, creating this.” She gestured around. “Hidden passages.”

That familiarity with Polite Society only served as a reminder that Lila March was a woman knowledgeable of this world. That she was a mystery. How did a woman become familiar with this end of society? That was . . . if she wasn’t part of it. And coward that he was, Hugh didn’t want to explore her connections or his misgivings.

Hugh motioned her over. “In ancient Asia, they denoted two styles of fight: hard and soft.”

“I’d think all styles would be hard,” she said as she rejoined him.

“It refers to how forcefully a defender counters the force of an attack in armed or unarmed fighting.”

He backed up several steps and then held his palms up for her to remain where she was. “The hard technique is going to require greater strength for a successful execution; however, it is the mechanics which matter most. If you want to shatter a leg?” Hugh demonstrated a low kick, just landing a breath away from colliding with her knee. “You come at your opponent forcefully, without restraint, and land your blow.”

She gasped and jumped back a step. Her shoulder collided with the wall in a damning echo.

They both went motionless, and Hugh waited for the lord’s staff to descend.

When discovery didn’t come, he urged her over. “Your turn.”

Without hesitation, Lila came forward.

“Now, kicking, just as throwing a punch, is an art form. Get yourself into a boxing stance.” When she had herself slightly hunched over and her hands close to her face, he guided her fists up a tad. “In terms of fighting, everything always comes back to boxing,” he murmured. “Bring your knee toward you and stomp forward, and then bring it quickly back.”

Lila shifted her weight onto her left leg and stumbled slightly.

Lila cursed and caught herself against him to keep herself upright.

“It’s all right,” he said softly. “It’s new.”

Just as this idea of him as an instructor was all foreign. “Knee toward your chest, like this”—he demonstrated the stance in slow motion—“and shift so the foot you’re standing on pivots slightly away. Try again.”

Lila got herself into her fighting stance, and then went through the movements of her side kick. Her plait slapped over her shoulders as she brought her leg sweeping out to the side and nearly collided with the wall.

She gave him a questioning look.

“Better.” And it had been. “But you’ve got your leg fully extended on the kick, and you’re locking it, here.” He touched the back of her knee and instantly regretted it. Of their own volition, his fingers lingered there on her leg, the thin breeches she wore the only barrier between him and her actual skin.

Sweat beaded his brow, that perspiration having absolutely nothing to do with the lesson.

“I-is there a problem?” she whispered, casting a glance down at him.

Yes, there were all number of problems. Every last one of them stemming from his desire for this woman.

Hugh abruptly yanked his hand back. Focus. “No,” he lied, and hastened to put some space between them and get back to the lesson. He kicked his leg out once more at the empty air. “It’s going to be awkward until you practice the rhythm. Eventually, when you have it down, the quicker you move, the easier you’ll find it is to maintain your balance.”

They worked in silence, with Lila practicing several more side kicks.

He peered at her in the darkened corridor, taking in her efforts. She moved with a zeal, an eagerness to learn, and yet he’d also witnessed firsthand the perils of overexcited fighters. It made them careless, and even as averse as he was to training anyone on how to fight, he’d sooner chop off a limb than send Lila March out into the world ill-prepared to fight—should she need it. “Let me help you find the feel of it.” Hugh positioned himself behind her; the cramped quarters heightened their bodies’ closeness. The blood thickened in his veins. And