Page 31 of Earl of St. Seville

Chapter 10

Sin took his place at the side of the ring where Patience had bidden him to wait—and watch—as she demonstrated a defense maneuver that she purported would have saved him from his defeat the previous night. The man who’d been in the room when they entered was another trainer who worked with fighters at Southlund’s House, and he kindly stepped in to work with Sin and Patience.

“It is called the Bess step,” Patience instructed as she maneuvered into the common boxing stance. “First, you must know if your opponent favors his left or right side, and then you step away, duck, and twist. Yes, the footwork takes you away from your opponent; however, when you duck and twist back, your strength doubles due to your trajectory.”

Patience signaled for her sparring partner to advance on her and demonstrated the move with a quick deftness he’d never be able to replicate. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, yet, was too distracted to truly comprehend the maneuver she attempted to teach him. The lithe movements of her body, the confidence in her voice, and the way she grounded and balanced her frame surprised Sin—in a delightful way.

As soon as he’d removed his shirt, she’d grasped the hem of her skirt and tucked it into her waistband. Sin hadn’t known what he expected when she’d offered to instruct him, but Patience physically being in the ring hadn’t so much as crossed his mind.

He’d thought, perhaps, that she would stand to the side and shout moves at him while he sparred with another fighter. But, no, she’d entered the area with as much confidence as a seasoned boxer.

Her skill was that of an expert. It had only served to spark his jealousy as she instructed him to wait and watch while she jabbed, weaved, and parried every move her opponent attempted. Sin hadn’t been allowed to show her what he had mastered in his years on Brownsea Island as she led him through the basics of bare-knuckle boxing. They were all techniques Sin was aware of but had never paid particular attention to thinking himself strong enough to ignore true technique. Even today, he was having a difficult time remaining focused on anything but the lace of her stockings and the way her blouse, damp with perspiration, clung to her bosom. She’d removed her gloves again, and Sin remembered all too clearly the soft touch of her skin against his battered face and neck.

In the last several hours, she’d barely glanced in his direction as she focused on her movements, not even noticing the men who’d come to watch—and then left once the novelty of seeing a woman spar waned.

Sin had underestimated her. Or perhaps he hadn’t wanted to assume more than was proper. Even as the daughter of a famed prizefighter, Sin hadn’t expected her to share the same level of expertise as her mother.

The heartache had been plain in her demeanor when they met in the hallway. As the time passed and she continued to demonstrate move after move, she’d relaxed, the tension leaving her. It had to be difficult for her to be here, after all these years. A place her mother frequented.

If he’d known that she planned to bring him to such a familiar place, would he have argued against it or turned down her offer of help?

“Did you see what I did with my last movement?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder. “He had all his weight on his front left foot after throwing a jab. I ducked to the right and came around with a solid punch just below the ribs. Throwing him off balance and causing him to fall to a knee.”

Sin nodded, and the fighters reset.

He’d had no other option but to agree to her conditions, and truly, he needed her help, and she had offered it. If he’d said no, he would have continued his plight, and she would have returned to her life and society.

Never again would their paths have crossed.

Perhaps that fate would have been far wiser than the course they were currently set upon—together.

Sin hadn’t wanted to walk away from Patience. Every moment with her near only solidified that in his mind.

“I think St. Seville has seen enough for one morning, and it is time to see if he’s learned anything from our demonstration,” Patience announced, stepping forward to clasp her opponent’s hand. “Daniels, thank you for remaining to assist the earl and me.”

“It was my pleasure, Lady Patience,” the man said, ducking his head. “Your mother inspired my love of pugilism, and it has been an honor to teach at Southlund’s House.” He turned to Sin. “My lord. I do hope to work with you again.”

“As do I,” Sin grunted, gaining a sideways glance from Patience. The woman should be satisfied that he hadn’t growled at Daniels. The instructor was obviously smitten with Patience and had been afforded the opportunity to touch her in ways that made Sin want to challenge the man—but not in the ring, with pistols at dawn. “Thank you for your time.”

She reminded him of the island fishwives whose strong, capable hands knotted ropes as if they were singlehandedly responsible for hauling their husbands from between the teeth of the storms, returning them safely to shore and their families. Patience had the confident fists of a woman who would never lose.

The instructor hurried from the room, leaving them blessedly alone for the first time since their brief conversation in the hall.

“Are you ready?” she asked, gesturing for him to take his place.

She could not be serious, Sin mused. A slip of a woman in the ring with a man of his size? He’d witnessed her skill up against Daniels, but certainly she realized one well-landed punch from him could do much damage.

He—at nearly eighteen stones and well over six feet in height—was to fight against a woman of no more than eight stones?

Those facts notwithstanding, he didn’t want to fight her—he longed to hold her…the closer the better. Smell the floral scent of her dark hair, stroke her creamy skin until his fingertips teased at her collarbone. Stare down into her upturned face as he held her tight…

She must have noticed his hesitation because she smirked and tilted her head slightly. “You truly do believe sheer size and strength are all that is needed.”

If the last several hours had taught Sin anything, it was that prizefighting took more skill and expertise than being blessed with an overabundance of muscle. “What if I unwittingly harm you?”

She outright laughed, threw her head back as the sound bounced off the walls. “You still have much to learn, my lord.”

“So you keep informing me.” Sin couldn’t help his smile as he joined her on the sparring floor. “I am your pupil to shape and instruct, Lady Patience.”