had her cornered, feeling the fierce urge to pummel anything and anyone that might hurt her. And then coming across her in a dockside street, for God’s sake, as another man accosted her. Feeling the righteous anger surge within him, glad to put it to good use.
“Can we agree on a compromise?”
Not that he was going to actually compromise, but she didn’t have to know that.
“Compromise?” She sounded skeptical. He didn’t blame her; he couldn’t think of any time in the past he’d compromised. Mostly because people didn’t usually even try to compromise with him—they just left him alone. And if they didn’t? He hit them.
The barmaid returned with the ales, placing them on the table. He took the glass, gesturing for Ana Maria to do the same.
“Are we toasting to something? To you staying out of my business?”
She was far more irascible than he’d remembered. Not that he’d thought that much about her before; it was only now, now that Sebastian wasn’t there taking care of her that he’d started to pay attention. Not to mention seeing her in that gown.
The protector. Stepping in when required, even if not desired.
“No.”
Her mouth twisted into an adorable pucker.
“But I will if you learn to protect yourself.” He took a sip of the ale. She did the same, sputtering as she drank.
The look on her face made him almost laugh. Except he never laughed.
“It’s unusual!” she muttered. “I’ll get used to it.” She took another sip, this time mastering her expression. “How do you propose I learn to protect myself?”
“I’ll teach you.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh.” A moment of silence. “So—you’ll teach me how to punch people? Like you do?”
She sounded intrigued, not horrified, thank God.
“Yes.”
“But—but I am nothing close to your size. How will that work?”
How will that work?
The question brought all sorts of unwanted images to his mind—images that were most definitely not suitable when thinking about Ana Maria.
But still.
Him sliding his hand down her arm, showing her the correct way to hold her fist. Feeling the movement of her body as she thrust her hand into an imaginary opponent.
Helping her become stronger.
They were intoxicating thoughts.
“Well,” he said at last, realizing she was giving him an impatient look. “I’ll train you. I have a room for boxing—”
“Of course you do,” she murmured.
“And we can work together until I feel as though you can handle yourself. Until then, you’ll need to let me know when you’re likely to be in the kind of neighborhood I just found you in.”
Both eyebrows rose incredulously. “And why would I do that?”
He leaned forward. “Because if you don’t, I’ll tell Thaddeus, and you know how he’ll react.”
That adorable pucker again. He should probably tell her she shouldn’t look so cute when she was mad, but he knew that would likely make her madder.
“That’s blackmail.”
He shrugged. “I just want you safe. Sebastian would expect no less of me.”
“Humph.” She downed the rest of her ale in a defiant gesture. Then ruined the effect by wrinkling her nose.
“Fine. When do you propose we start these lessons?”
Another shrug. “You can tell me. You won’t need them if you can promise me you won’t venture into any dangerous areas by yourself.”
“We’ll start tomorrow, then.”
He smothered a grin at her irritable tone.
Ana Maria had never felt so many disparate emotions in her prior twenty-eight years. Contradictory emotions, as suited her new role as the walking oxymoron.
Gratitude, because she wasn’t entirely certain she could have handled that man on her own. Annoyance, because he’d had to rescue her. Something else that surged when she thought about the power of his body, and how he’d rushed in to protect her.
And something on top of that when she imagined what it would be like to train with him.
Alone. In a room where he presumably wore less and sweat more.
Oh dear.
She needed to get her mind off all of that. “Can we order another?” she asked. He’d finished his ale as well.
“Mmph.” He lifted his hand to beckon to the barmaid, then raised two fingers.
“I didn’t realize your grandmother was in town.” That was an excellent change of topic—if she was thinking about older judging relatives she wouldn’t be thinking of him in his shirtsleeves, thrusting his fists toward an invisible opponent.
“I didn’t either.”
The barmaid returned with their drinks, taking their empty glasses and setting the full ones down. “Pay now, if you please,” she said.
He withdrew some coins from his waistcoat pocket and handed them to her. She looked down in surprise. “Thank you,