Once Upon a Temptingly Ruinous Kiss: #2 The Whickertons in Love, page 11
Without questioning him, she did as he bid her. Her breath slowly evened, and some of the tension left her shoulders. She still looked like a frightened little deer, but she was no longer about to bolt. And then Drake stood no more than an arm’s length away from her, her chin slightly raised so she could hold his gaze.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded. For another heartbeat, her eyes remained on his before they moved over his face, to the tip of his head, taking in his full height. They swept over his shoulders, down his arms and to his hands before she lifted them once more. “You’re tall,” she observed with a slight chuckle, her voice barely audible, nervous tension still lingering upon her face. “What now?”
Wondering if she would be up to the task, Drake said, “If you feel comfortable, I want you to try and push me away.”
She frowned. “Push you away? I thought you would teach me how to fight.”
“We will get to that,” Drake replied, noting the way she allowed herself to be distracted by the conversation. It was a good sign. “However, before we can do so, you need to get used to being close to me. I will not lay a hand on you, but you need to touch me if you want to learn how to fight. Fighting involves contact. There is no way around it.”
She bit her lower lip, doubt in her eyes. “I could use a weapon. A stick perhaps.”
“A weapon can be taken from you and used against you,” Drake counseled. “If you do not want to, we don’t have to—”
“I want to!” Lady Leonora insisted. She inhaled a deep breath, then lifted her hands looking at them as though they did not belong to her body. “You want me to push you away?”
Drake grinned at her and set his feet apart. “I want you to try.”
Challenge lit up her eyes, and that nervous flutter retreated once more. Nevertheless, her first push possessed no more strength than that of a mild breeze drifting through the trees. Drake knew she was afraid to touch him, but she had to get past that. “Again.”
Shifting her own footing, Lady Leonora once more lifted her hands, fingers splayed. Her eyes fell from his and settled upon his chest, her target area. Then she extended her bent arms and gave him a slight shove, all the while maintaining that last bit of distance between them.
Once again, Drake barely felt it. “If you want to throw me off my balance, you need to put your full body weight into this.” He cocked one eyebrow at her, daring her to refuse him. “If you merely extend your arms, you will never knock me off my feet.”
She regarded him quizzically. “What if you fall?”
Drake could not help but chuckle. “Do not worry about me.” His gaze urged her on. “Again.”
And this time, Lady Leonora did move. She moved away from that safe space and came toward him, almost flinging herself forward, her hands outstretched. This time, Drake felt a dim thump as her hands collided with his chest. This time, he was called upon to use his muscles to keep himself from rocking backwards. “Better,” he told her encouragingly. “Again.”
For the better part of that afternoon, Lady Leonora kept trying to knock him off his feet while he remained firmly in place. Still, with each try she grew bolder, her nervousness replaced by a single-minded determination. Her touch was no longer tentative, but full of purpose, and by the time darkness fell over London, she was out of breath. Her cheeks shone with color, and her eyes glowed with accomplishment. In all the weeks Drake had known her, he had never seen her so much at peace with herself.
Perhaps this would work after all.
Chapter Fourteen
Where To Strike
Every night Leonora returned home from Lord Pemberton’s townhouse, she fell into bed utterly exhausted. Her muscles ached, and her lungs demanded release. Still, she felt…good. There was no other word for it. The training sessions brought her peace of mind, something to focus on, something to accomplish. She could feel her body grow stronger as she continued to lift the weights as he had instructed. She knew she was no match for a man towering a head or two above her, but her increased strength made her proud and gave her hope.
And it was showing for she could see a reflection of it upon her family’s faces. Where before they had been deeply concerned for her, barely able to hide their anxiety for her well-being around her, now Leonora saw them smile at her, relief written all over their faces.
“You have new color upon your cheeks, my dear,” her mother remarked one morning after breakfast. “Are you working on a new project?”
Smiling, Leonora nodded. “I suppose I am.” Indeed, strictly speaking, she was.
Her mother eyed her curiously. “Would you care to share what it is about? I know, I don’t truly understand the scientific interactions of your projects. However, there’s no harm in learning something new, is there?”
Leonora thought for a moment. “Well, at present, I am most interested in overcoming deep-seated fears.”
Her mother’s face darkened. “Fears?” Clearly, that was not what she had been hoping to hear.
Leonora nodded. “Yes, we all fear something, do we not? I have tried certain ways of dealing with them; however, most have proved ineffective. My latest one though is most promising.”
A tentative smile came to her mother’s face. “That is quite obvious. You look happier than I have seen you in a long while.” Leonora could see a question in her mother’s eyes, one she had expected to form given the topic of the conversation. “What fear is it that you’re trying to overcome, my dear?”
Leonora sighed, hating the lies and secrets that stood between them. “I suppose you could call it social anxiety. I feel uncomfortable when…people step too close. It makes me nervous.” She shook her head in a dismissive gesture. “It is completely irrational, and I’m hoping to conquer it.”
Her mother smiled at her gently, brushing a curl of Leonora’s dark hair behind her right ear. “If there’s any way I can help you, please let me know. Will you?”
Leonora nodded, then gave her mother a grateful hug, relieved to have said as much as she had. It was not the complete truth, but at least it was a start.
With her family busy most afternoons, Leonora found it surprisingly easy to slip away. She always wore her dark cloak, moved with care, watchful eyes cast about in every direction as she quickly strolled down the path toward the gap in the hedge. Indeed, she ought to consider herself fortunate that such a simple connection between the two townhouses existed. Without it, sneaking over to Lord Pemberton’s would have been a major undertaking, one which at some point would have most likely been observed by someone.
“When you make a fist,” Lord Pemberton instructed on one such afternoon, “take care that your thumb is always on the outside. Otherwise, you’ll break it upon contact.” He showed her how to curl her fingers into a fist, how to position her thumb at just the right angle so it sat comfortably.
Leonora looked down at her own hand, felt her muscles flex and mimic his movements. Never before had she looked at her hands as weapons with which to defend herself. Sometimes, the thought of learning how to fight off a potential attacker still felt quite odd. Leonora could not help but wonder if any other lady had ever been taught in such a way.
It was far from usual.
“If someone were to come at you from the front,” Lord Pemberton began, his eyes watchful as he observed her movements, “where would you strike?”
Leonora considered his question carefully, sensing from the tone in his voice that the answer would not be obvious. She tried to imagine him as an opponent, someone who would do her harm…if she gave him the chance. It was a most unsettling thought, and Leonora inhaled a deep breath to steady her nerves before her emotions could run away with her. She looked down at her fist and then swept her eyes over his face and lower, wondering where best to strike. “I suppose, any area protected by bone would be ill-advised,” she concluded, thinking out loud as her eyes once more swept over him, trying to see beneath, imagining the bone structure. “If I were to strike you on the jaw or anywhere on the head, I suppose I’d break my hand sooner than injure you.” She looked at him, wondering if he agreed with her conclusions.
Indeed, Lord Pemberton watched her most curiously, a strange sense of astonishment in his eyes. “You are quite right. If you were to strike me on the jaw, I would most certainly obtain a bruise, but nothing worse. It would not, in fact, incapacitate me, and I would still be able to get to you.”
Another shuddering breath found its way down into her lungs. “And what would you suggest?”
Holding her gaze, Lord Pemberton took a careful step forward. She could see him watching her, taking note of the way her breath quickened and she fought to remain where she was. He always pushed her to the edge, forced her to face her fears, but he never pushed her over it, demanded more than she could bear. “Of course, it always depends on the attack itself, your opponent’s height and stature, his strength and expertise. However, as you have correctly concluded, choose an area not protected by bone.” He lifted his hand and placed it upon his throat, lifting his head to give her a better view. “A punch to the throat will give you a very good chance to get away. The stomach, too, is a good place; however, you will need sufficient strength.” For a moment, he looked as though he was about to say more, but then he shook his head almost imperceptibly and did not.
Leonora’s hand went to her own throat, to feel the softness underneath. Certainly, there was muscle there; however, she could easily imagine that a strike to the throat would bring someone down.
“Let’s try this,” Lord Pemberton exclaimed, an encouraging look in his eyes as he waved her forward. “As I don’t relish the thought if you actually striking me down, we shall do it like this.” He lifted up his hand and positioned it in front of his throat, palm facing outward. “Strike me here. Put all your strength into it.”
Leonora blinked, looking from her closed fist to his open palm only an inch away from his throat. “But…but…what if…” She stared at him, shaking her head. “What if I hurt you?”
The right corner of his mouth twitched. “Do not worry. I shall be fine, and if not, then I suppose I needed a lesson.”
Leonora sensed a hint of amusement in his words and offered him a careful smile. “Very well.” For a moment, she wiggled her fingers before closing them into a fist once more. Her eyes moved to her target, trying to ignore the man behind it. Then she pulled back her arm and let her fist fly forward.
While her aim was good and her fist actually landed in his open palm, Leonora immediately knew that she had not put enough strength into it. She had hesitated. She knew she did not wish to hurt him, but she also knew that she dreaded the contact of his skin against hers. She was not wearing gloves, neither was he. Her fist had briefly brushed against his palm before she had jerked her arm backward, overwhelmed by the contact.
The look in Lord Pemberton’s eyes told her that he knew quite well why she had hesitated. He turned away and walked over to his desk, upon which lay a pair of gloves. It would seem he had anticipated this problem for he slipped them on without another word and returned to where he had stood before. “Again,” he instructed, “and this time, set your feet apart. Center yourself.”
Giving him a grateful smile, Leonora did as he asked. She tried to find her point of balance, moving back and forth on her feet to see how steady she was. Then she once more fixed her eyes on her target, pulled back her arm and let it fly forward.
This time it landed with a satisfying smack, and a wide grin came to her face as she felt the strength of the punch reverberate through her arm.
Lord Pemberton nodded. “Better.” He gestured for her to return into position. “Again.”
Leonora found that she did so most willingly. Indeed, she had never expected such physical training to give her such confidence and enjoyment. She felt every part of her body, was aware of her own limitations as well as her own strength, and it felt good. Yes, in the beginning, she was hesitant and uncertain of herself, but as the exercise progressed, she began to feel more at ease. Her face felt flushed, and her breath came in fast pants. The muscles in her arm began to ache, and before long, she had to fight against a sense of exhaustion. Still, it only spurred her on. It was a challenge, and she wanted to master it.
At the end of each of their training days, Leonora returned home, feeling exhausted, but at peace. It was the strangest sensation. Now, it was her body that ached and demanded rest and consideration while her heart was almost dancing with joy, completely at ease and perfectly satisfied.
Leonora could see upon her family’s faces that they too had noticed the change in her. However, most of them refrained from mentioning anything. Only Grandma Edie chuckled every so often when her gaze fell upon her granddaughter, a knowing twinkle in her eyes.
Although Leonora doubted that her skill had improved to a degree where she would indeed be able to defend herself, the training alone gave her strength and confidence. She found she stood taller now, and whenever she accompanied her family to a social function, she no longer felt the need to hide in a corner. Yes, the company of others still unsettled her, but now it was as though she had a weapon in her arsenal with which to defend herself. It was not the knowledge of how best to land a punch, but instead her ability to remain calm and collected, to count her breaths and her heartbeats and not allow her emotions to drag her off in a panic. Indeed, Lord Pemberton had stepped close to her countless times, that distance she had needed between them before no longer existent. Of course, it had been necessary, and he had never once touched her without asking permission first. His nearness still unsettled Leonora, but she trusted him. She knew she was safe with him, could see it in his eyes every time he looked at her.
“Thank you,” Leonora all but blurted out one such afternoon. “Thank you for your help, for…for everything.” She looked at him, the expression upon his face making her wonder what he was thinking in that moment. “I was so caught up in these daily struggles that I had not realized I had never told you how grateful I am for your assistance in this matter.”
Lord Pemberton turned away, a spark of displeasure in his eyes. “There is no need,” he said brusquely. “It is nothing.”
Unable to see his face, Leonora watched him as he kept his back to her, wondering why her words had upset him. “To me, it is not nothing. Before, I had no hope of ever…moving past this. I thought I had lost everything, every chance for happiness. Now…” She shrugged, inhaling a deep breath.
Slowly, Lord Pemberton turned around, the spark of displeasure now gone, replaced by a sense of intrigue as he stepped forward and looked at her. “Do you relive what happened when someone steps too close?”
Leonora had not expected such a question, and it made her flinch. She could see that her reaction was all but an answer to him.
Lord Pemberton nodded knowingly and began to approach, slowly, carefully, his gaze fixed on hers, watchful, gauging her reaction. “How did he attack you?”
Leonora wanted to turn and run. Her feet jerked, urging her to comply, but she knew that if she ran now, she would be running for the rest of her life. And so, she lifted her gaze and held on to Lord Pemberton’s inquisitive eyes. “He grabbed me from behind.” The moment the words left her lips, that sense of helplessness and panic washed over her again, and she had to grit her teeth to keep herself in place.
The look upon Lord Pemberton’s face told her that he saw every one of these emotions flash over her face. “Close your eyes,” he told her, now standing only an arm’s length away from her. “Close your eyes.”
Leonora’s rational mind still seemed to function, analyzing the situation and concluding that once more facing that moment of her past might help her in eventually overcoming it. Still, her heart almost beat out of her chest, and fear raised goosebumps upon her skin. If she closed her eyes, would the memory of that night materialize in front of her? It did so at night in her dreams.
“Close your eyes. Trust me.”
Leonora held his gaze a moment longer, looking for something that would reassure her. She could not say what it was or put a name on it, but a few heartbeats later, she felt brave enough to do as he bid her.
And so, Leonora finally closed her eyes, shutting out the world around her and allowing herself to be drawn back to the night of the masquerade.
Chapter Fifteen
Memory Lane
Drake felt like a beast for demanding this of her. Her whole body was shaking, and she held her fists clenched at her sides. Was she even aware of it? Her eyes were not merely closed but pinched shut as though she wished to keep something out, afraid to look upon it once more.
Drake knew about demons, had battled a few of his own. “Turn around,” he told her, trying his best to keep all emotion from his voice.
For a brief moment, Lady Leonora hesitated. Then, however, she slowly moved until her back was to him. She inhaled a shuddering breath, and her arms rose to wrap around herself.
Drake slowly moved closer until he stood right behind her, until she could feel his breath upon her neck.
A tremor went through her, but she did not flinch. She did not back away or run. She stayed, her fingers digging into her arms as she fought for control.
“May I place my hands upon your shoulders?” Drake asked carefully. He did not want to make her bolt, but she needed to relive that moment, once again feel that terror and helplessness.
After an endless moment, Lady Leonora nodded.
Inhaling a slow breath, Drake lifted his hands and then carefully lowered them down upon her shoulders. Instantly, her head flew back and she drew in a sharp breath, a new tremor running through her body. Drake could feel the tremor as it jumped into his own. “Breathe,” he told her calmly, keeping his hands in place. “Breathe. Focus your mind. You are safe. You are safe here. No one will harm you. Breathe.”
