Page 55 of A Duchess to Reclaim

Amelia pressed her lips and appeared unbothered as she pulled her wrist away from him and rose to her feet. She turned away from him without a word and toward the punching bag, and gave it a hit.

“No, no, not like that,” he chastised. “God, you’re just going to get ground into the dirt if you hit someone like that.”

“Well then tell me what to do, oh wise instructor,” she replied haughtily, crossing her arms as she glanced back at him. “How do I not get ground into the dirt?”

She was mocking him again. Only this time it was blatantly heightening his arousal as well as his annoyance. He took a stand behind her, gripped her neck, and forced her to look forward at the punching bag. He then moved his hands down to her wrists and pulled her arms away from one another.

“First thing you need to understand is that your size is already working against you if seeking to hit a man,” he replied, kicking her feet wider apart. “Even a man as short as you is going to be stronger, more balanced.”

“I am taller than most women,” Amelia retorted. “I’m only shorter to you because you’re a giant.”

Her comment made him scoff, but he fought the urge to grin.

“Secondly,” he pushed forward, twisting her hips with his hands so her right leg went further back, “You need to understand that if you’re ever in a situation where you have to punch a man, you’re most likely only going to get one good hit. Don’t stay around and let him knock you down. Throw all of your power into one great hit, and run.”

“Where do I run to?” She asked.

He pushed down on her hips so she would bend her knees as he said, “To me.”

Amelia glanced back at him, some of that haughtiness fading.

“Eyes on your target,” he chastised, turning her head back to the punching bag.

He ignored the emotional slither of warmth he’d felt at the appreciation he’d seen in his eyes.

“When you’re throwing that punch you need to take a proper stance. It will help you not just with balance but force. Keep your knees bent, and your right foot slightly back. When you’re ready to hit lean back slightly on your foot and then send all your strength forward into your fist. Like this.”

He stopped talking for a moment and took his own stance by her side, then demonstrated. The bag sailed backward from the force of his punch, and Amelia’s eyes widened. Dominic then caught the bag is swung back toward them, stilling it.

“Your power is going to travel from your foot all the way to your fist. Very much like how a hammer in a pistol does to a bullet,” he explained.

Excitement glittered in her eyes as she quickly turned her head toward him.

“Will you teach me how to shoot next?” She asked eagerly.

The very idea of her wielding a gun had a strange effect on him, and Dominic grumbled up a prayer as arousal surged through him yet again.

“Let us get through this season first,” he muttered.

Dominic then showed her how to properly hold her fists, and then proceeded to let her throw a few punches at the bag. His irritation slowly turned into satisfaction as Amelia dropped her teasing attitude and took his instruction seriously.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Amelia panted fifteen minutes later. “Whydid you learn to do this?”

Dominic chuckled.

“Not as easy as it looks, is it?” He asked, genuinely enjoying himself now.

She shook her head, still trying to catch her breath.

“My mates and I needed an outlet at school and fencing did not have quite the edge we needed, I suppose,” Dominic told her.

Since her hands were wrapped, he picked up her glass of water and brought it to her lips. Their eyes locked as he gently tipped the glass, letting the water slide gradually into her mouth. Something about it made his arousal return with a vengeance, and he grew tense again. He pulled the glass away more roughly than intended, causing some water to dribble down her chin.

“Why did you need the edge?” She asked, ignoring the drops of water.

Dominic, however, could not, and reached up to swipe them away from his thumb. As he did so Amelia’s cheeks flushed brightly, and he felt a wicked glee in seeing her turn colors.

“We all had our reasons,” he replied, letting his fingers rest on her chin.

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