Robert did not even flinch.
“Not bad,” he said with a slight nod.
She stood, relaxing her shoulders. “I could do without the condescending tone.”
“I wasn’t being condescending. I meant it. That smarted.”
She wanted his hand to more than justsmart. “Shall we go again?”
“Yes, I think that is a good idea.” He got into his previous stance, a lock of his fair brown hair trailing over his brow, askew from his efforts. “Do your worst.”
“I do not believe you can handle my worst.”
His mouth lifted into another heart-stopping smile before he narrowed his eyes and concentrated on his task. Louisa focused on his hand, readying her feet and imagining her fist thrusting right through to his face. And then she threw her fist forward with every last drop of strength she had.
And fly forward it did, past Robert’s hand, and straight into his nose. His head snapped back, and his hand covered his nose and mouth as he bent forward.
“Blast, Louisa.”
She ran forward. “I am sorry!” Putting a hand on his shoulder, she bent down to get a better look at what damage she had done. “I had imagined punching through your hand to your face and I suppose I must have inadvertently adjusted my aim—”
“Inadvertently?” He straightened, tipping his head back as he held his nose. Louisa saw a small strand of blood trickle down to his lip. “I would say thinking of my face is a very advertent thing indeed.”
“I really am sorry.” She looked about, trying to find something to stop up his nose.
“Inside my jacket.” His words were muffled behind his hands.
She spun toward him. “What?”
“Inside my jacket there is a small pocket with a kerchief. My hands are covered with blood or else I would do it.”
“Oh, of course.” She pulled his jacket forward, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach as her hand grazed his chest. How could she have been so inept at punching as to miss the hand that had been directly in front of her and punch her husband in the face? Her fingers inched across his broad chest. “Which side?”
“The left.” He sniffed, and she cringed at the sound of blood muffling his nose.
She ran her hand along, trying to find the pocket. Where in the blazes was it? How hard could a pocket be to find?
“I know my pugilism makes for a fine figure, Duchess, but the blood is beginning to drip off my hands.”
She stopped, her mouth falling open as she gazed up at his face. One eye was clearly visible from behind his hand, and it was staring down at her. Was he . . . flirting with her?
Fine. If that was the way he wished to play it, two could play at his game.
Taking her time, Louisa slowly ran her hand along his chest. No, that was not where the pocket was, but his remark would make him pay. He did not seem the type who was comfortable with physical affection, and she planned to make him as uncomfortable as possible after what he said. His one eye widened as a result of her meandering. Finally, she found the kerchief, pulling it free with a flick of her wrist. “There.” She held it out to him.
He released his hand from his nose, snatching the kerchief from her. “Thank you.”
“How is your nose?” She ran her hand across his shoulder, then trailed her fingers up his neck.
He shuddered, his one eye shutting with her touch. He swallowed. “It will be fine.”
“I am glad. I would hate to think I broke it. We cannot have your handsome face marred with imperfection.” Her fingers teased the hair just above his ear and a low groan sounded behind his hand. His shoulders immediately tensed, and he took a small step back, color creeping into his cheeks.
It was gloriously delicious. Who knew it would be such fun to make a decidedly stiff man crack beneath her fingers?
“Excuse me.” He cleared his throat, then tipped his head farther back, scrunching his lids tighter against the brightness of the sun. “I suppose my nose does hurt quite badly.”
“Oh, I see.” Liar. She knew very well what elicited that groan.
