Page 72 of His Betrothed
Spencer grinned. “Now, see how I’m holding this, Tom? Try my grip.”
Her mouth dropped open, but when she noticed the sword in Thomas’s hand, she felt like her bones had melted clear out of her. Spencer wasteachingthe young man.
She wanted to giggle in sheer, draining relief and collapse back into the straw. But that lasted only a moment—she found her eyes drawn to Spencer, and she realized with a start that he had altered his cane, nailing a piece of wood perpendicular to it, like the hilt of a sword. His right knee rested on the cross, holding him up and freeing his hands. As long as he didn’t try towalk, he could balance and fight.
She stayed hidden within the empty stall, watching. Of course he would be good with a sword—he would naturally have had to defend himself after any number of his famous scandals.
But the patience he showed impressed her. He didn’t belittle or scold the boy for his lack of knowledge, even though she knew that at Thomas’s age, eighteen years, Spencer must havebeen far superior with the weapon.
Their voices became murmurs as she found herself studying his body, watching the way every muscle moved. She remembered his naked chest, gleaming during his bath. Cocooned in these new and heady sensations, shewasn’t surprised when Spencer looked over Thomas’s shoulder, right toward her hiding place.
She was trapped in his gaze, knew he could see her, buthe merely smiled and continued teaching Thomas.
But his awareness of her was potent, powerful, and when he complained of the heat and removed his shirt, she knew he did it just for her.
She could see the lines of his hipbones disappearing into his low-slung breeches. His skin glistened beneath the scattering of hair across his chest.
Roselyn knew with wicked certainty that if Thomas left, herwild self would emerge from long slumber, and she would draw Spencer into the shadows with her, and pull him down into the straw. She licked her dry lips and clenched her shaking hands, and wondered what he was thinking as he glanced at her again, his face intent—and not on sword fighting.
