Page 80 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

He met her in the center of the room, then wrapped her in his arms. “Neither can I.”

He suspected there were very different reasons for their insomnia. First and foremost, he had no idea if they were engaged. And then sitting across from her at dinner, and beside her in the carriage, had obliterated his self-restraint. More than anything, he wanted to make love to her.

She, on the other hand, was probably nervous about her first mill.

Gen had worked hard, but despite her athletic prowess, Roseanna was the larger, more experienced fighter, which was enough to make any athlete fret. Still, he should inquire about Gen’s concerns, since he was shite at predicting a woman’s thoughts and motivation.

He gently tilted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. “Is something troubling you?”

“I suppose I am quite nervous about tomorrow.”

“Ah.” He’d been correct. “Of course you are. ’Tis normal to be nervous before an athletic competition. You should have seen me before a fencing bout. Up all night, partially from excitement and partially from nerves.”

Her tight jaw relaxed with her smile. “I can’t picture you being nervous about a sport. You are so very agile and… well, for lack of a better word, wily.”

“Wily? Like a fox or a coyote?”

“Yes. Exactly. A trickster who is hard to catch, always one step ahead. Albeit a canine with lovely green eyes, and very expressive hair.”

Showing off his “lovely green eyes,” he batted his lashes. However, he had no idea what she meant by “expressive hair.”

Almost as if she read his mind, she wound a strand around her finger. “For instance, right now, it is saying, ‘I am quite the beautiful peacock.’”

He threw his head back and chuckled. Then he met her gaze. “But I’m not always a cocksure fool.” At least not when it came to knowing how to love a woman—love her. And then there were his academic abilities.Although,he reminded himself,you no longer give a shite about your reading skills. These days he had a word shield and a trustworthy man of business.Hallelujah!

“Oh?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I’m only cocksure about ninety-five percent of the time. The other five percent, my hair must be lying flat and personality-less.”

She giggled. “Your hair is never personality-less. Neither are you. And I am teasing. I quite like when you are confident. You should be, because you are wonderful.”

Lord above, she made him feel as if he was the sun in the sky, and he rather liked when she playfully taunted him. He tucked a strand of her silky locks behind her ear. “Seriously, Gen, is there something I can do to help you fall asleep?”Tup? Swive? Rut?Ride St George. Blow the blanket hornpipe? Make the beast with two backs—

“Perhaps if you could help me relax. Mayhap we could try themassafor my muscles that you are supposed to do in the morning before the mill.”

“Oh, I know how to make you relax,” he declared with an exaggerated lift of his brow.

He thought his indecent allusion was delightfully witty. But her shoulders lifted and then heavily dropped with her sigh.

“I’m teasing, Gen. I knew exactly what you meant. Come. Sit.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and escorted her to the bed.

While nibbling on her lip, she perched on the edge of the mattress, her back as stiff as a board. Her legs dangled; her feet not touching the floor. The poor woman was wound tighter than his recently wound pocket watch.

He unwrapped her shawl, folded it in half, and hung it over the footboard. Skirting the mattress, he crawled across the bed to kneel behind her.

“Just relax,” he cooed in her ear, in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “Remember, this is just an exhibition. ’Tis for you to gain experience. It will not go on your record. It will give Bear a chance to see your skills without an official winner being declared.”

She peered over her shoulder and smiled at him, instantly turning him into a pile of sugary pudding.

He hadn’t had his lesson from the lady coaches, but he didn’t feel as though he needed one—knowing his way around a female body like he did. Besides, he knew what his sore overtrained muscles craved. He placed his hands on her dainty shoulders. Kneading gently at first, he worked his hands deeper as her muscles softened. The gaunt waif he’d found on the streets hadfilled out. Her sinew was well-formed, and power packed every stone of her slender physique.

She leaned back against his torso.

Absorbing her body weight, he dug his thumbs into her shoulder blades, working his way to her neck. All the while, she emitted sensual sounds that landed in his pelvis and then tickled the length of his cock.

“That feels wonderful,” she murmured.

If she kept up the utterances, he would cream his small clothes while rubbing her back. Humiliating, that.