Page 58 of A Duchess to Reclaim

“Show you how to fire a pistol,” he replied.

Excitement ate away at Amelia’s saddened eyes, and she shot to her feet.

“Really?!”

“Notwith ammunition,” he specified. “We are in city limits and to do so would be dangerous. But I will show you how to hold it, the proper stance, and how to aim.”

The brilliant smile that spread across her face sent his heart throbbing and he couldn’t help but chuckle at her as she pranced eagerly to his side. He fished the key from his pocket they left through the side door of his in-home boxing practice room, which led directly to his armory. It was the only room in the house that did not have a direct entryway into the main hall, and he always kept it locked.

Amelia gasped as he lit a few lamps in the darkened room, and she peered around at his vast collection. Just as he enjoyed collecting truths, he was the same with weapons. Some were of present design, but he prided himself on the ones he’d been able to collect from not just the past, but all over the world.

* * *

“There are so many!” Amelia exclaimed, looking among the many tables and cases filled with them. “And so organized.”

Dominic chuckled as he took her hand and led her over to his small arms table.

“I like to know where everything is at all times,” he explained, then in almost boyish enthusiasm he added, “I also quite like how they look all laid out like this.”

“They’re beautiful,” Amelia breathed, waving a hand over the gun-laden table.

He drew up a curious brow.

“You truly think so?” He asked.

Amelia nodded.

“Oh yes. Not just the designs, but the power you just know they are capable of.”

She then looked away from the table toward him.You are like these guns,she thought.Beautiful. Powerful. Deadly.

Amelia raked her gaze further down his body. He’d removed his jacket for their boxing lesson and had once more rolled up his sleeves like he had during their dancing lesson. Only this time he’d taken it a step further and undone three or four of the buttons at the top of his white shirt. It allowed a swath of dark chest hair to peek through in a rather enticing way. Slowly she brought her eyes up further and when she reached his face, she found an amused smirk on her lips.

“Already feeling better I see,” he said.

It was true. Her emotions had dipped heavily toward sadness as she recalled her past and her current fears, but somehow, surrounded by Dominic and guns, she felt that sadness melt away.

“I will feel better when I get to hold one like you promised,” she replied.

Dominic’s smirk grew into a grin, and he chuckled as he stepped closer to her side. One hand went to the small of his waist as the other reached down toward the table and picked up the smallest gun.

“This is a Derringer,” he explained to her, holding it out before her. “While many English men carry them now, it was actually created by an American man in 1786. It is a single barrel pistol that shoots a .41 caliber bullet with black powder. It is not dueling gun but is best used at close range.”

Dominic then drew his hand away from her lower back to wrap his body around hers and pick up her hand. With the other, he carefully placed the weapon in her palm. Pleasure, not only from his touch but the feel of the pistol as well, tingled through her fingertips as he guided her hands with his own; showing her how to hold it.

“See that little ridge at the end of the barrel?” He asked, his breath warm against her ear.

Amelia nodded, feeling her body relax further into his.

“That is how one takes aim. You raise the pistol up; arms outstretched, elbows slightly bent. Spread your feet a little farther apart- yes just like that.”

Dominic’s voice dipped into a deeper, huskier tone as he added that little note of praise, and the anger she’d felt only a few moments earlier bled completely away.

“Now line your sight up with that little ridge,” he commanded her.

Amelia followed his instructions, her heartbeat feeling more pronounced as the thrill from holding the pistol interlaced with the pleasure from being held closely by Dominic.

“Very good,” he praised softly into her ear. “Now find your target.”

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