“Aside from my dashing good looks and rakish charm?” Blake quipped, jabbing at Richard quickly before ducking.
“And of course your modesty.” Richard swung at Blake as he rolled his eyes.
Blake blocked the blow and pushed his friend away, panting as he wiped the sweat off his face. “Modesty has never done anything for anyone.”
“Has it not? I find that rather hard to believe. After all, isn’t it most prized in a woman?” Richard danced out of Blake’s reach.
“Perhaps, though I confess I have never understood the appeal.” Blake grinned and dropped his guard a moment, giving Richard a clean shot.
Richard took it, just as he had planned. At the last possible moment, Blake sidestepped and slammed his fist into Richard’s side. He punched him hard, but not so hard that it would do any permanent damage.
“Was that hard enough for you?” Blake grinned as he stepped away.
Richard clutched his side and shook himself. Blake watched him warily.
He does love to strike when my guard is down.
Sure enough, his friend launched into a flurry of fierce blows that Blake countered with his own.
The thud of skin on skin echoed in the yard as each man punched at the other, ducking and darting away, ignoring safety to score a particularly good jab or hook. They were both panting, the few clothes they were wearing clinging to their bodies.
“Have you had enough, Glassbury?” Blake asked as he circled Richard again.
“Never, Rochester. You know I won’t stop until I best you.” Richard held his fists up.
“Then it appears we will never stop.” Blake threw jab after jab.
Richard blocked the blows. “Are you really so sure of that?”
“Of course. In all these years of friendship, you have never bested me.”
“Perhaps I have an ace up my sleeve.”
“You aren’t wearing sleeves,” Blake pointed out, aiming a punch at Richard’s ribs.
“Have you always been so pedantic?” Richard panted.
“Yes.”
“Well, the fact remains. As much as I love this sparring, I came here to tell you something.” Richard weaved to the left and then the right, swinging his fist towards Blake’s stomach.
Blake dodged, landing his own blow as he did so. “Did you, indeed? I thought you came here to lose.”
“Very funny.”
“Well, go on then, why don’t you spit it out?” Blake goaded as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
Richard took a deep breath and said, “I am getting married.”
“What?!” Blake exclaimed, so shocked that he forgot to keep moving and dropped his guard.
Richard let out a triumphant yell and punched Blake three times in quick succession, his final blow making Blake’s head snap back. For a moment, everything went out of focus, and Blake struggled to remain upright.
Come on, focus. You cannot let him beat you—you’ll never hear the end of it.
Shaking his head in the hope that it would stop the ringing, he lunged at Richard, his fists moving as fast and as hard as he could drive them. He backed his friend into a corner.
“You’re getting married?” he panted, still not letting up his attack. “And you chose to tell me at this moment to get in a cheap shot?”
