Page 41 of The Secret of the Dashing Detective
“Here.”
“Is this your paint?” she asked as she took it, thinking of the magnificent drawings he had provided her.
“Yes. I used to enjoy the hobby.”
“But you don’t anymore.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have the time. Now, enough questions, Juliana. We must begin.”
She took pity on him and respected his wishes, taking a step back. He placed himself the same distance away from her as he had been before. His knife was in its sheath as he held it out in front of him.
“Pretend I am attacking,” he said. “I will not attempt to strike you – not even with it sheathed – but it will give you an idea of the timing. You have choices. Sometimes you have to do what is available to you. Aim for my hand if you prefer but if you cannot, then be sure to hit one of the strike zones I showed you – heart or stomach.”
“I—”
“It’s a paintbrush. Remember that for now.”
She nodded, even though she couldn’t rid herself of the thought that, at some point, it might not be a paintbrush any longer.
She tried to remember everything he taught her as he lunged toward her and a second later, she reached in to try to paint his hand, but he was too quick for her.
He stepped back and studied her for a moment before nodding his head abruptly as he seemed to make up his mind about something.
“Your footwork is messy.”
“Pardon me?”
“You lunged toward me with too big of a step. It put you off balance and I could have easily knocked you over or, as I did, evade your attempt. Think of dancing – you dance, yes?”
“Of course.”
“Take small, precise steps – one, two, three – but quickly, so that you maintain your balance but take the person off guard. Practice for me.”
She nodded and did as he said. One-two-three, she counted, moving much more quickly across the floor. He was right.
“Try again,” he said, and positioned himself across from her. He made his advance and just before he was able to reach his knife toward her, she painted him right across the chest.
He nodded with a grim smile. “Good. Again.”
They practiced the steps, over and over, Matthew relentless in having her repeat the movements until her legs were tired and her arm was on fire and a bead of sweat broke out along her brow.
Matthew finally must have realized her fatigue as he nodded and said, “That’s good enough for now.”
He reached down, about to pick up his clothing, but Juliana stepped in close to him before he could do so. She had spent so much time wondering about him, about what was growing between them, and while she knew he was trying to avoid it, she couldn’t help but want to pursue it further.
“Matthew,” she said, her voice breathless as she replaced her hand on his chest, where she had last touched him and had decided she wasn’t finished yet. “Don’t get dressed yet.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve just… I’ve never seen a man like you.”
“Have you seen many men?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice, and she laughed back at him.
“No, actually, I have not.”
