Page 24 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
He glanced back at her. Was she truly impressed, or was that a lie? He couldn’t tell. She was a master at stroking a man’s ego. He’d seen her do it with Dicky.
“I practiced, is how.” He stomped over to retrieve his knives.
“But where’d you get the idea? I’ve never seen anyone throw knives like that afore. Not drawing from the side.”
He didn’t answer, choosing to let her think about it. Would she take the hint and go away, or persist with her questions?
“Please, sir,” she pressed, and though she’d used the wordplease, there was no begging in the tone. “’Ow’d you think of it?”
“What do you think?”
She pursed her lips, and he regretted looking at her. He’d see her wet, puckered mouth in his dreams tonight.
“I dunno,” she said. “That’s why I asked.”
Well, at least she wasn’t prone to flights of fancy. That was a rarity in his experience. Most people developed elaborate tales about how he learned a thing. It helped that he encouraged them in such thinking, but with her, he simply shrugged and told the truth.
“Saw a gypsy do it once. Got a spider from twelve paces away.”
“And you ’ad to learn it?”
He shrugged again and studied her. He looked at her face, her body, her everything. He couldn’t stop himself from seeing her pert nose in the sunshine, the way her pale blue muslin dress pressed against her body in the breeze. Her blond locks were tucked neatly in place today, and he wished they were in disarray, tumbling about her face and shoulders while he spread her out on his bed and…
He cursed under his breath and stomped back in place. He tried to concentrate again on his throw, but he knew he didn’t have the ability. His mind was filled with the imagined sight of her naked beneath him, flushed and open. It was an obvious thought, so graphic that his blood thumped inside his veins. And he couldn’t draw his knife while thinking that. He just couldn’t.
So he stood there, fighting his carnal nature, while the breeze took her scent to him and made his entire body ache with yearning.
“Go away, Miss Bluebell,” he ground out. “I’ve no interest in play today.”
“I’m not ’ere t’ play,” she said stoutly. “I want me lessons.”
“Lesson. Singular. That’s all I agreed to.”
“That’s no’ true.”
He whipped around, using his fiercest stare. “It is true. You’ll be getting one and no more.” He let some of his lascivious thoughts show on his face. “Unless you want to pay for more.”
She swallowed. It was a small gesture, partially hidden by the way she lifted her chin and looked defiant. She was nervous around him, and yet so determined that he had to wonder why. What was so important that she had to speak like a lady?
“Go home, Miss Bluebell. I’m busy.”
“You’re sticking trees. You can teach me while you do it.”
He’d meant to turn away from her and go back to throwing, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from her. Not when her eyes were flashing so blue in the sunlight. Like gems on fire.
She folded her arms. “I’m not leaving ’til you do as you promised.”
“Very well. Here’s your lesson. Say yourh’s. Ladies speak the letter.”
“I do! I been working on that since I was a babe.”
“Well, it didn’t take. Repeat after me.My husband holds my hand.”
“Me husband holds me ’and.”
He smirked. He hadn’t meant to, but she was so expressive as she spoke. First with clear defiance, but then she realized exactly what she’d said. Her eyes widened, and she scowled. With a frown of concentration, she tried again.
“Me husband holds my hand.”
