“Very good.” He gave a slow clap. “What gave it away?”
“Besides the smell?” She hitched a shoulder with a saucy grin.
“It’s not that bad.” He rolled his eyes.
She gave him a disbelieving look and answered, “Your face.”
“My face.”
“Few men who can boast a position in the House of Lords will engage in fisticuffs, but when they do, it’s in a boxing ring. I’m assuming the man was larger than you, taller as well.” She narrowed her eyes. “The bruising mark is darker at the top of your brow and lesser at the bottom, which means the trajectory of the assault came from above you, rather than below.”
Impressed, Emerson tried to throw her off. “I could have tried to dodge the swing.”
“Then it wouldn’t have been such a direct hit. It would have been slightly off-center, unless you dodgedintohis hit. In which case, your boxing skills are quite pathetic.”
“Why, thank you. And yes, the man is much larger than I, in stature and size.”
“Figured. Does he look like hell as well, or did you just take the beating?”
Emerson gave her a glare and relaxed his stance. “He took a beating as well.”
“I should hope so.” She gave a huff. “Well, there’s nothing for your face.”
“Why, thank you. And here I was under the impression you thought I was handsome.”
Jaxsen gave a slight giggle. It was surprisingly unjaded, the sound. “I didn’t say you weren’t handsome, just that you’ll have several quizzical looks tonight because we can’t exactly do away with the bruising this quickly.” She paused then and studied him. “Which begs the question I should have asked to begin with. Why?”
“Why?” Emerson was certain where she was going with the question, and he wasn’t exactly desirous of answering it.I had to release the pent-up tension that is like static electricity between us in one way or another, and since you didn’t fancy a tumble, I went with boxing.
It wasn’t the most poetic thought, or romantic, he decided, but it was brutally honest. Except the tumble part. That implied that it would be over quickly and only happen once. Or twice.
With Jaxsen, he had the instinct that a hundred times would only be the beginning. Which led him to another question he should have asked at the beginning.
What did that exactly mean?
He wasn’t thinking of making her his countess, was he?
“You’re deep in thought for such a simple question.” Jaxsen’s voice broke through his internal revelation.
He focused on her, studying, truly studying her. Captivating and enticing for sure, but would she be a life partner? She was loyal to a fault, dependable, kind, perceptive, and would be anything but a boring wife. A day wouldn’t go by without some sort of aggression or teasing fight that would certainly end in the bedroom. They could work together.
And suddenly jealousy slammed him in the gut like one of Wallace’s roundhouse jabs.
She would have other partners, other men she’d train.
All he could think was,no. No one else. It was purely selfish, but when had selfishness been rational?
And clearly, all rational thought had left him long ago.
“Emerson? Blueberry? You with me?” Jaxsen snapped her fingers and frowned. She closed the distance quickly, and cool fingertips probed his face and scalp. “How hard did you get hit? You may have a concussion—”
“I’m well and good, just… thoughtful.”
She paused in her pursuit of whatever assault had left him so senseless and regarded him with a concerned gaze. “Thoughtful?”
As far as excuses came, it wasn’t the best, but it was all he had to work with. He’d been having a succession of personal revelations that left him re-evaluating much.
Too much.
