"Don't be ridiculous," Oliver gritted his teeth, advancing carefully.
"No?" Peter feinted left, then struck from the right. Oliver blocked it, their forearms colliding with a thud. "Then perhaps ifI mention how utterly enchanting Her Grace looked at the ball. Or how I had the pleasure of dancing with…"
Oliver lunged, a flash of irritation flaring in his chest. Peter twisted aside at the last second, causing Oliver's fist to swing past harmlessly.
"Touched a nerve, have I?" A knowing smirk lit Peter's face.
Alexander covered a laugh with a cough. Nicholas winced in sympathy for what was likely to come. Oliver reset his stance, muscles taut.
"You are really pushing your luck," he muttered at Peter.
"Admit it," Peter taunted lightly, stepping in to throw a body blow. Oliver deflected and countered. "You were brimming with jealousy that night."
Jab.
"Nearly crushed my toes when you cut in on our waltz."
Another jab.
"And glaring daggers whenever I so much as smiled at her."
A hook.
Oliver blocked each strike but the truth was that Peter's teasing hit uncomfortably close to home. Oliver had been maddeningly, irrationally jealous at the ball. The memory of Peter dancing with his wife still made Oliver's fists clench.
He felt heat rising in him now.
"Drop it, Peter," he warned.
But Peter went on breezily. "Why should I? It's not every day I get to witness the cool Duke transformed into a green-eyed monster." He danced around another punch, laughing. "You should thank me, I likely hastened your realization of your own feelings!"
Oliver's composure finally snapped. With a growl, he surged forward and landed a solid glove-square on Peter's chest, shoving him back into the ropes. Peter let out a surprised oof, eyes wide. In the next instant Oliver had fisted the front of Peter's shirt, pinning him to the ropes.
The room seemed to go utterly still. Alexander straightened from his relaxed pose and Nicholas rose as well. Peter himself blinked at Oliver, momentarily speechless.
Oliver's blood pounded in his ears. He hadn't exactly intended to grab the man, but impulse had overtaken him. Peter held fast in Oliver's grip, Oliver's breath coming harshly between them.
Peter recovered his voice first, though it came out slightly strained.
"Careful, Your Grace," he joked weakly. "If you mar my devilish good looks, the ladies of London will riot."
Oliver realized abruptly what he was doing. With a muttered curse, he released Peter and stepped back, chest heaving.
What in blazes had gotten into him?
Embarrassment flooded him as he became aware of Alexander and Nicholas staring, and Peter rubbing the back of his neck where his collar had dug in. A tense silence followed. Oliver flexed his fingers, trying to dispel the adrenaline.
Peter studied him for a long moment, then a triumphant grin spread on his face. "I'll be damned," he declared. "You are in love."
Oliver opened his mouth to snap a denial, but the words caught. The last days played through his mind: his jealousy and the way that he had kissed her. It all pointed to the same undeniable fact.
Peter saw the flicker of admission in Oliver's eyes and crowed,
"Aha! He's finally realized it!" He flung his arms wide as if announcing to the heavens. "Oliver Lockhart, Duke of Redhaven, is head over heels in love with his own wife. Would you believe it?"
"Shut it, Peter," Alexander interjected, though he was grinning widely now. He clapped his hands. "I think that's enough sparring for one day, gentlemen."
Nicholas hopped into the ring, placing himself between Oliver and Peter lest any further scuffle resume.
