mean water,” he replied with a chuckle. He strode over to a bureau against the opposite wall, upon which a pitcher and glasses sat. He poured two glasses, then returned to her, giving her one of them.
Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Or perhaps it was that throat.
She took a swig from the glass, drinking so quickly she started to choke. He immediately began to pound her back, which made her whole body shake, so the remaining water in the glass sloshed out and spilled on her gown and the floor.
He stopped pounding her back as they both stared down at the widening puddle.
“Well,” Ana Maria said in a sprightly voice, “this is getting off to an excellent start.”
His expression froze, and then the most startling thing happened—he began to laugh.
Not only that, he was laughing so hard he’d flung his head back, showing even more of that damnably handsome throat. He had his hand to his chest, as though it hurt to laugh so much, his other hand still holding his own glass. Which had not spilled, despite all of his movement.
So she stepped over to him, snatched the glass from his hand, and poured all the water out onto the floor.
His eyes widened, and then he laughed harder. This time, she joined in, not quite sure what they were laughing at, but pleased to see him so joyful, for once.
She didn’t remember ever seeing him laugh. She’d seen him smile on a few rare occasions, but not outright laughter.
“Anything amiss?”
Nash’s manservant Finan popped his head into the room, his perplexed expression revealing that, yes, Nash’s laughter was a rare occurrence.
“You all right, my lady?” Finan continued, addressing Ana Maria.
“I am fine. But perhaps a mop would be of use?” And some cloths to dry the wood adequately so that no one would slip later on, but she bit back the words because she wasn’t the maid in charge of cleaning this room. Or any room.
“Right away,” Finan said, his face disappearing as the door shut again.
“Stay there,” Nash ordered as she began to move. “I don’t want you to fall.”
“I’ll be fine,” she replied, lifting her now-damp shoes from the worst of the spill.
“Why do you always tell me you’ll be fine? When I am just trying to help?”
Her chest tightened at the sincerity of his tone.
That is why he demanded he teach her self-defense. He is a protector, he knows no other way. It had nothing to do with her, the person, Ana Maria; it was because she was in his orbit, and he cared about people in his orbit.
Just like he had hired so many of the bastards his father had scattered around the country. Not that he’d ever told her that, but she’d heard him and Sebastian speaking about it.
It should be a relief it had nothing to do personally with her. It was his need, nothing more or less. So she couldn’t deny him his basic need to protect.
“Thank you. I know I should be more grateful—”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” he interrupted. “I just want you to agree that there are certain things that I am more knowledgeable about than you.”
She raised her eyebrow. “Such as—?”
Such as. For a moment, Nash couldn’t think of anything. Well, besides not talking. But he’d gotten better at talking, which must mean he’d gotten worse at not talking. Not that he was good at talking; just take a look at, for example, now.
He couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“I suppose you’ll say self-defense and fighting,” she said, obviating the need for him to think of a response. “And that is true. But I believe that once you teach me the essential elements I will be as good as you are, albeit starting from a different place. What with being a female and all.”
And that was why he found himself in the confounding position of not being able to speak.
She was a female. A female he’d realized was far too attractive for him to spend any amount of time with, and yet here he was, alone in a room in his house. With only his assorted family members who were also servants. And Finan.
So. She was a female, and he was an idiot.
“Fine,” he said instead of saying anything that might reveal the extent of his idiocy. And his awareness of her as a female instead of just as the sibling of his best friend. “I don’t want to talk. Let’s spar.”
“You are better than I am