Page 71 of Snapdragons
Niles rubbed her hands gently between his. “You don’t speak of her often.”
“She can be... difficult.” Penelope shook her head. “Appearance and social cachet are everything to her. So long as I am bolstering her standing and contributing to the flawless facade she insists on, she’s pleased with me. Otherwise, I’m a waste.”
“You have never been a waste, Penelope. Not ever. And you never will be, regardless of what anyone, including your family, says.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I gave up on my mother long ago, I’m afraid. I keep the peace with her, but I have no expectation of affection. But I thought Liam... I never thought he would turn away from me so entirely.”
“Would you ever consider giving up your claim on Fairfield in order to reconcile with him?”
The very idea struck painful fear directly to her heart. “I’ve known Fairfield was mine from the time I was a little girl. It was a source of strength and reassurance my whole life. Women have so little power over any aspect of our existence. Our residence, income, comings and goings, our very persons are, by law, not our own. Any and all of those things can be taken from us on a whim. We spend so much of our existence desperately trying not to upset those who have the power we are prevented from having, knowing our survival depends upon it. But Fairfield meant I always had something that couldn’t be taken away. So long as I had that estate and the ability to make it what I chose, I could breathe. If I lose Fairfield, I will be holding my breath for the rest of my life. Liam doesn’t understand that at all. I don’t think the men of this country truly realize how chronically starved of air the women truly are.”
“Do you know what I think, Penelope Seymour?”
The question was kindly worded, but she felt herself grow tense just the same. “That I talk too much and have too many opinions?” She’d certainly been told that before. Her mother had often made that very declaration.
“No.”
She looked over at him at last, fully expecting to see pity in his expression. What she saw was mischief.
“I think,” he said, “you need to hit something.”
“Iwhat?” A laugh bubbled without warning.
“You need to curl your hands into fists, think of all the things and people who are frustrating you, then hit something as hard as you possibly can.”
“Are you volunteering?”
He grinned almost wickedly, which she found she liked very much indeed. “While I confess I would probably enjoy sparring a bit with you, I was going to suggest the bag of straw I was pummeling when you first arrived.” He motioned to it hanging from the rafters.
The thought of him when she’d first arrived sent a wave of awareness over her that she quickly tucked away. Liam thought her scandalous for wanting to run Fairfield as she saw fit; he’d have apoplexy if he knew she was struggling not to swoon at the memory of Niles Greenberry shirtless and rippling muscled.
“Is there a trick to hitting a bag of straw?” she asked.
“There’s some technique, but when undertaken for therapeutic purposes, the most important thing is vehemence.”
“Will you show me how?”
He was still holding her hand, so it was easy as anything to walk with him back to where he’d been standing earlier.
She set her letter on a windowsill nearby, then stood facing the bag. “Do I just hit it?”
“Let’s get you positioned first. Make a fist, and hold your arm out in front of you, as if you’ve just hit the bag.”
She did as instructed, her right fist just barely grazing the edge of her target.
Niles stood behind her and set his hands on her shoulders. “You need to move a little closer to the bag.” He nudged her toward it.
“But this close, my extended arm goes past the edge of the bag,” she said.
From surprisingly near her ear, he said, “It’s supposed to.”
And before she could sort out why the tickle of his breath on her neck was so enjoyable, he stepped away, walking to where her fist hovered beside the bag.
He took her hand in his and tapped a finger on her thumb. “Your thumb needs to be outside your fist, not inside.”
“Wouldn’t it be safer, better protected like that?”
He gently extricated her thumb. “It’s more likely to be broken if tucked inside.”
