Page 73 of A Deal With a Notorious Devil
“Good,” he said. “We can be done for the night when you can escape.”
Escape? “How am I meant to do that?”
“However you must,” he said. “You’re smaller, physically weaker. You’ve more vulnerabilities to exploit. But you’re an intelligent woman. You know my weakness already.”
His knee. He’d had to discard his cane to secure her, sacrificing his stability. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, swallowing hard.
“I doubt you could do too much damage,” he said. “You’re still a novice, untrained—”
She jammed her elbow into his side, then used the scant distance she’d gained as he wheezed to turn and kick at his knee. It collapsed beneath him, and he sank to the ground with a shout of pain.
“Kit!” Her heart in her throat, Phoebe sacrificed the distance she had gained to crouch down beside him. “Are you all right? Have I hurt you?”
Like the swift strike of a snake, Kit snatched her wrist, yanked her across the distance between them, and rolled her beneath him to pin her wrists above her head. “Last lesson for the evening,” he said. “Always run if you can. Never stay to fight if you have the opportunity to escape.”
“Oooh!” Her inarticulate sound of fury provoked a laugh from him. “I didn’t hurt you at all, did I?”
“Oh, you got me. My knee will be sore as hell tomorrow,” he said. “But I grew up brawling.”
In the distance, there was the squeak of hinges, and then Phoebe heard her father’s voice. “I say, what the devil is that racket?”
Oh, no. They’d woken her parents! Phoebe wriggled, wrenched her wrists free of Kit’s hold, and shoved at his shoulders. “It’s all right, Papa,” she called. “It’s only me.”
Kit rolled off of her with a longsuffering sigh, stretching one hand out to fumble for his discarded cane. “I suppose the garden’s right out for amorous activities,” he said in a muted murmur. “Somehow the thrill of potentially being caught is diminished when one considers that it would be your parents to catch us.”
Phoebe could only thank her lucky stars that the moonlight was not bright enough for her vivid blush to be visible to her parents. She scrambled to her feet just as Mama appeared on the balcony over the wall beside Papa.
“Phoebe Horatia Moore!” Mama gasped. “Whatever are you doing out in the garden in your nightclothes?”
“Horatia?” Kit inquired as he braced himself with his cane, grunting as he rose.
“I didn’t choose it,” Phoebe whispered. “Didn’t you hear the reverend say it when we were married?”
“Wasn’t much listening,” Kit said. “Too damned many eyes boring into the back of my head at the time. And too damned many Toogoods to go with them.”
Phoebe suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “No one’s going to see, Mama,” she called back. “And besides, you’re in your nightclothes as well.”
“However, I am not in the garden.” Mama folded her arms over her chest. “Mr. Moore, I had expected better of you.”
“You really should not have done.”
Phoebe elbowed Kit in the ribs. “He means to say that we are terribly sorry to have woken you,” she said. “It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t,” Papa groused, his brow furrowing as he leaned over the railing of the balcony to stare down at Kit. “Mr. Moore, my son has informed me that he spent an afternoon with you at our club.”
“And a number of your sons-in-law,” Kit said. “Do they doeverythingas a group? Rather overwhelming, if you ask—ow, Phoebe.” He rubbed the spot on his side she’d jabbed again with the point of her elbow.
“They enjoy one another’s company. Gentlemen are known to have friends,” Papa said. “Laurence said you proved an amiable companion.”
Kit’s brows lifted. “Really?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” Phoebe muttered.
“Because Iamsurprised.”
Papa gave an impatient clearing of his throat, slanting a stern glance downward at them. “I look forward to hearing what was discussed,” he said. “Perhaps over breakfast tomorrow. Until then, good evening. Do try not to make so much noise at such an inopportune hour in the future.” Together, Mama and Papa shuffled back inside, and Phoebe heard the door to the balcony close once more behind them.
“Ah, hell,” Chris sighed beneath his breath as his shoulders slumped with defeat. “Should have known there would be a catch.” He lurched to the side to neatly avoid another jab. “So help me, Phoebe, if you elbow me again—”
