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She planted her hands on her hips and beamed, looking as if she had just been crowned queen of the world. “Oh, that was brilliant! Let’s do it again.”
“Let’s not,” he grumbled.
She stopped grinning and leaned down. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Not at all,” he lied.
“I didn’t?” She sounded disappointed.
“Well, maybe just a little bit.”
“Oh, good, I—” She choked back whatever it was she was planning to say. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I swear. I don’t want you to be injured, but I did put all of my strength into that punch, and—”
“I shall be showing the effects tomorrow, have no fear.”
She gasped with gleeful horror. “I gave you a black eye?”
“I thought you didn’t want me to be injured.”
“I don’t,” she said quickly, “but I must confess I’ve never done anything remotely like this before, and it’s rather satisfying to have done it right.”
James didn’t think his eye was going to sport quite as splendid a bruise as she obviously hoped, but he was rather irritated with himself nonetheless for so seriously underestimating her. She was such a tiny thing; he’d never dreamed she’d get it right on the first punch. And even then, he’d figured she couldn’t possibly possess enough strength to do more than stun her opponent. All he’d really been hoping for was to teach her enough to temporarily disarm a man while she made her escape.
But, he thought ruefully, giving his eye a gingerly pat, it appeared that her punches were anything but temporary. He looked up at her; she looked so damned proud of herself he had to smile and say, “I have created a monster.”
“Do you think?” Her face lit up even more, which James hadn’t thought possible. It was as if the very sun were pouring from her eyes.
Elizabeth started jabbing her fists in the air. “Perhaps you could teach me some advanced techniques.”
“You’re quite advanced enough, thank you.”
She stopped jumping about, her face sobering. “Should we put something on that eye? It might not swell and bruise if we put something cooling on it.”
James almost refused. His eye truly wasn’t that bad off—it had been surprise more than anything that had knocked him to the ground. But Elizabeth had just invited him into her home, and this was an opportunity not to be missed. “Something cooling would be just the thing,” he murmured.
“Follow me, then. Do you need a hand?”
James regarded her outstretched hand with a bit of chagrin. How feeble-bodied did she think he was? “You punched me in the eye,” he said in a dry voice. “The rest of me works quite well, thank you.”
She pulled her hand back. “I had merely thought—You did hit the ground rather hard, after all.”
Damn. Another opportunity lost. His pride was getting deuced annoying. He could have leaned on her the entire way home. “Why don’t I try it on my own and we’ll see how it goes?” he suggested. Maybe he could sprain an ankle in twenty yards or so.
“That sounds a good idea. But be careful not to overtax yourself.”
James took a few careful steps, trying to remember which side it was that had hit the ground. It wouldn’t do to limp on the wrong side.
“Are you sure you’re not in pain?
He had to be a complete cad to take advantage of the concern in her eyes, but clearly his conscience had departed for destinations unknown, because James sighed and said, “I think it’s my hip.”
She glanced down at his hip, which caused other, nearby regions to feel a bit of pain. “Is it bruised?”
“That is all I can think,” he replied. “I’m sure it’s nothing but—”
“But it hurts to walk,” she said with a maternal nod. “You’ll probably feel better by morning, but it does seem silly to overexert yourself.” She scrunched her brow in thought. “Perhaps it would be best if you simply returned to Danbury House. If you walk to my cottage, you’d have to walk back, and—”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not as bad as that,” he said quickly. “And I did say I would walk you home.”
