Helena bit her bottom lip as she thought. As distracted as she was, she absently noted that his eyes had dropped to her mouth, and then darkened. She frowned, wondering why, but then went back to thinking about her strategy.
“I would?—”
“Don’t tell me. Show me,” he said.
“All right.” She lifted her hands, slipping them between his arms and gently pushing against his chest in an attempt to free herself from his hold on her shoulders.
He nodded approvingly. “Good, good. But not good enough. You have gifts that you can use to disconcert your attacker.”
“Gifts?” she asked, puzzled.
His eyes drifted down to her breasts and then up her neck. “You are distracting. You cannot compete with his strength, but you can use your feminine wiles to distract him.”
“Feminine wiles?” she squeaked.
He put his hands on her waist, looking her in the eye.
“Yes,” he said quietly, then leaned in, inclining his head and breathing in her scent from her neck.
She tensed, unable to think what to do. Her hands rose of their own volition and grabbed his shirt. His hands closed tighter around her waist, pulling her closer. He lifted his head, looking down at her breasts.
“Now. You have to kick me,” he said.
She jerked. “What?”
“Kick me.”
She stared at him bewildered.
“You’ve used your body to distract me. Now kick me.”
Helena finally understood what he meant. She lifted her leg, regretful that her gown was too restrictive for her to really bend it, and kicked his shin.
Silas winced slightly, but his discomfort didn’t seem to last more than a second. “Very good, but next time, I suggest you aim higher, somewhere more sensitive.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, “Speak plainly.”
He blew out a breath. “Should you hit between my legs, you are guaranteed to incapacitate me.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Oh…” she said, her face heating up.
She looked down at his breeches, blinking in embarrassment at the thought of touching him there with any part of her body.
“In a fight, you have no space for propriety,” he said as if reading her mind.
She cleared her throat as she nodded, looking anywhere but at him. “I see.”
He tilted his head down so he could meet her gaze. “Have you changed your mind about learning to fight?”
She jerked her head from side to side. “Not, er…” she cleared her throat again. “Not really.”
“We can stop if you have.”
“Well, I have not.”
He nodded once, a small smile ghosting on his lips. “Good. I know you’re brave,” he said quietly.
She hardly knew what to say to that. “I’m not, you know? I’m afraid all the time.”
