Page 20 of How to Best a Marquess

Chapter Six

The next day, Ellie was determined to keep her mind on her work and forget Hugh’s kiss. That didn’t mean, however, that she would ignore him. If he had discerned her plans for the club, then she had better discover his.

Locating Hugh in the boxing room in the back of the club was not difficult. She expected to find the marquess speaking with Brooks about how best to add another ring or more space for standing spectators to watch the fights. Instead, she found Hugh shirtless and performing some kind of exercise. A steel bar was mounted between two walls in an alcove, and he was pulling himself up to it with his arms, then slowly lowering himself down inch by inch. Then he repeated the effort.

She halted in mid-stride at the sight. His biceps flexed with each movement. His shoulders strained.

Heavens. There were muscles everywhere.

He hadn’t yet noticed her. She was standing to the side of the roped ring, and the soft leather soles of her slippers were silent on the hardwood floor. Memories of their kiss returned in a rush of emotion, and wings fluttered in her belly as she watched him. She’d only touched him through his clothing, and still his heat and strength had left an impression on her. What would it feel like to run her fingers across all that bronzed skin? All night she’d forced herself to forget his kiss, but now, standing here watching him, she realized her efforts had been in vain.

She cleared her throat. Loudly.

His green gaze snapped to hers, but to her chagrin, he persisted in his activity.

He strained to pull himself up, then slowly lowered himself.

“Have you come to spy on me?” he asked, his voice gruff from his exertions.

Despite her resolve to remain distant, her throat was suddenly dry. “Spy? You were the one who insisted on watching me. I decided to do the same.”

“You snuck away and left me in the draper’s shop with an overzealous shopkeeper.”

Up. Then down again.

A rivulet of sweat rolled down his chest, traveled down his abdomen, slipped through a sprinkling of dark hair, and disappeared into the waistband of his trousers.

Indecent. Ungentlemanly.

“You cannot blame me. I don’t trust you,” she said.

“You made that perfectly clear.”

Was he still furious at her for leaving him in the draper’s shop? Was he trying to intimidate her with these calisthenics?

She cleared her throat. “Well? What are your plans to win against me? All I see is…this,” she said, sweeping her hand toward him.

He released the bar to land on the balls of his feet. Somehow the movement was graceful and predatory at the same time and reminded her of a jungle cat. His eyes met hers, his chest slightly rising and falling from his efforts.

Had she wanted his attention? He was giving it to her now. She fought the urge to back up a step.

He reached for a cloth and wiped the sweat from his brow, then his chest. Her gaze followed. It was impossible not to watch him.

He possessed a perfect male form. She didn’t remember him like this. He’d been a lean youth when he’d held her all those years ago. But now, he was… He was huge. It was how she’d attempted to describe him to her sister. No words could do him justice. He should put a shirt on.

He had to put a shirt on.

“You want to know?” he asked.

Her eyes snapped back to his, and her cheeks felt flushed. She was suddenly over-warm, and her lungs strained in her corset. “Know what?” Had he noticed her staring? How could he not have? How humiliating.

One dark eyebrow arched, as if he knew her wicked thoughts and was perfectly capable of satisfying each one. “Do you want to know what I have planned?”

“Yes…yes, of course. That’s why I’m here.” Certainly not to watch him. Never that. “Perhaps you should dress before we converse.”

His lips twitched, but thankfully he made no comment. He tossed the towel on the roped ring and reached for a shirt he’d thrown across a wooden chair. His slipped it over his head. The cotton had been rolled up and revealed his forearms. Without a cravat, she could still see the corded muscles of his neck and the sprinkling of hair on his chest.

She’d asked him to don a shirt, but that did little to cease her racing heart. She dragged her gaze away.