Page 97 of The Lyon's Pretty Pugilist

“I’d like a bath and a back rub. I smell, and I hurt.”

“I think you smell delicious. Like victory,” he said.

She playfully punched his shoulder.

He pretended to rub out the sting. “A bath and a back rub it is.”

“Now you can write an article about women’s pugilism since that arse, Egan, refuses to talk about us,” she said.

The woman was beyond single-minded. “I shall call itWomen’s Pugilism, The Rise of the Female Warrior,” he said.

Her cheeks red from exertion and caked with blood, she grinned at him. Unable to control his urge, he gently brushed his mouth over the split on her swollen lips. His brave warrior didn’t even flinch.

“And then tomorrow, let’s make a baby,” she said.

“Nothing would make me happier.” Especially if they had to work at baby-making night and day. Nicolas wrapped his wife in his arms as an enthusiastic crowd cheered, “Lady Jabbing Josie.”

“Do you hear that?” he asked. “They adore you.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. “They are calling me a lady. All I ever wanted was to be taken seriously. Thank you, Nicolas.”

“Then it seems we both got what we wanted,” he said.

“What is it you wanted?” she asked.

“Do you even have to ask?” Nicolas smiled, hoping she noticed his dimples. “All I’ve ever wanted was my very own pretty pugilist to love and cherish.”

The End