Page 61 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

Then she wiped her nose on her sleeve.

The wool was rough and slightly damp and entirely revolting. She grimaced.

"Good," Matthew said. "Now do it faster next time. Like it's nothing."

"It's not nothing. It's vile."

"It's what common folk do."

She sneezed again, the dust still irritating her nose, and this time forced herself to use her sleeve without hesitation. Faster. More natural.

"Better," Matthew said.

"I hate you."

"You'll thank me when we're across the border."

They rode in silence for a few minutes. Florence's nose itched. Her pride stung worse.

Then Matthew said, casually: "You know how to spit?"

She turned to stare at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Spit. Projectile. Like this." He turned his head, gathered something in his mouth, and spat. A clean arc that landed a good six feet from the wagon. "Common men do it all the time. Common women too, though less often."

"I am not learning to spit."

"You might need to. If we're stopped, if someone's watching, it sells the disguise."

"There is absolutely no circumstance in which—"

"Florence." His voice was quiet. Serious. "If you can't make yourself do the things that breeding forbids, you'll give yourself away."

She fell silent. He was right. She knew he was right.

But spitting. Spitting.

"Show me again," she said reluctantly.

He demonstrated once more, the way he gathered saliva, the positioning of his tongue, the sharp expulsion of breath.

Florence attempted to copy him. The result was less a spit and more a dribble that landed on her own chin.

"Christ," Matthew muttered, but she could see him fighting a smile.

"Don't you dare laugh."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She wiped her chin with her sleeve, she noted grimly, and tried again. Better. The saliva left her mouth this time, though it traveled approximately eight inches before falling to the wagon floor.

"You're not using your tongue right," Matthew said.

"I've never had occasion to use my tongue for spitting."

"Position it behind your teeth. Curl it slightly. Then push the air from your diaphragm, not your cheeks."

She tried. The spit traveled two feet. Progress.