Page 50 of Return of the Scot
“Fine. Lead the way.” She waved her arms forward, the same way she shooed away the birds who flocked the ship decks.
Lorne took her hand in his, and they followed Malcolm back to his gymnasium. It was much brighter inside than it had been the last time she’d been in there. But still, the sight of the pugilist ring, the fencing planche, and the various dumbbells scattered around had her face heating and her mind swinging back to the night of the ball when he’d kissed her. Hovered over her. Delicately touched her ankle. Oh, but she could swoon.
Lorne wrapped his hands around her waist, and she gasped at the contact as he lifted her until her feet touched the platform of the pugilist ring. She ducked beneath the rope, turning in a circle, mostly to get as far away from his touch as possible. Malcolm remained in place, arms crossed and a goofy grin on his face when Lorne leapt up to join her. The platform bounced with his weight, and she laughed in surprise.
“Hands up, Miss Andrewson, like this.” Lorne showed her how to place her fists—thumb outside of her curled fingers—and her elbows bent.
“Are ye truly giving me permission to hit ye?” she asked. “And are ye going to hit me back?”
Lorne chuckled. “I’ll no’ hurt ye. And I doubt ye’ll get in a lick.”
Oh, that was a challenge worth taking. A decade’s worth of pent-up frustration where this man was concerned, and here she was being given a chance to quell it? At the very least, it would keep her from kissing him. “Deal.”
Lorne bobbed back and forth on his feet, a grin splitting his face that showed how eager he was for her to fight him. She watched his feet and imitated him, finding the surface flexed beneath their feet ever so slightly with their movements. She’d only ever been to a boxing match once, years ago, having snuck in with Giselle, dressed up like lads. But it was so long ago that she barely remembered it.
“Come on then, take your best shot,” Lorne urged.
Jaime stepped forward, shot her fist out toward his belly, but he danced away, much quicker than she’d been able to punch. She tried again, still feeling her movements were constricted by her bodice and the thick layer of skirts she wore. But alas, she wasn’t going to undress in front of them—as much as Lorne, and even his cousin might enjoy that.
As they circled one another, with her taking shots at him with her inadequate fists, she realized this was very much like a dance. And dancing, she was good at. She grew more confident, adding in a few of the dance steps she knew and was able to clip his elbow barely as he bounded away.
“I win,” she said, dropping her fists. “I got ye.”
Lorne laughed, a deep, hearty sound that made her smile. “Och, nay, lass, ’tis no’ that easy. Ye have to take me down to win.” He pointed at the base beneath their feet.
“Down, as in, to the ground?”
“Aye.” The teasing glint in his eyes was almost too much for her.
Because when she thought about being down on the ground, she imagined them here not too long ago, in a similar situation, and her body tingled all over again.
“And yet, we both know who has had to catch whom since we’ve met, aye?” She reminded him of how clumsy she was compared to him, and hopefully not of the kiss they shared.
“Indeed.” But the wicked curl of his lips, the heated intensity of his stare told her she’d not succeeded.
“Ye have an unfair advantage with your inhuman ability to balance,” she said stiffly in jest.
“All right, I’ll give ye an advantage then. Malcolm, hand me one of the ties.”
His cousin tossed him a length of fabric, and with a grin, Lorne put the fabric over his eyes and tied it at the back of his head.
“Blindfolded,” Jaime said with a sigh of exasperation.
“Aye. Come at me again, lass. Let’s see if ye can take down a blindfolded fellow.”
Well, this ought to be easy and quite entertaining. As quietly as she could, Jaime tiptoed around Lorne, but he seemed to know where she was at all times. Even when she swung at him from behind, he whirled around and dodged. When she feinted right, then swung left, he still caught her.
“How about one hand behind my back?” he teased.
“Aye, I’ll take that challenge,” Jaime goaded, sweat marking her brow and her breath uneven from exertion. She was having a lot more fun than she would have guessed.
Lorne held one hand behind his back, seizing her flying fist with one hand and bearing a thwack to his ribs with her other.
“Aha!” she said with a laugh. “I finally landed a decent blow. And ye need not remind me it was to a blindfolded, one-armed man.”
Lorne chuckled. “Again.”
This time, she came at him with a similar move, but he snaked his free arm around her waist, whirled her around, and dipped her backward over his bent knee. All the breath left her, and her heart pounded so hard, she was certain Lorne could hear it. Maybe even Mungo, wherever he was.
