With Love in Their Corner (The Boxers of Brook Street #1)

Chapter Six

June 22, 1817

Stapleton Boxing Salon

Mayfair, London

W hen Cecilia pushed open the door to the boxing salon, her gaze went immediately to the man at the wooden frame where the punching bags hung. Oh, dear heavens, it was the earl, and he’d stripped to his breeches, for he was currently pummeling one of the sand-filled bags. From all accounts, it seemed he was working through some hidden emotions, for his face was like a thundercloud.

“Lewis?”

Slowly, she approached but kept her gaze on that bared torso as if she’d never seen a half-clothed man. Perhaps she hadn’t, for he was unlike anyone she’d laid eyes on before. A mat of light brown hair covered the upper portion of his chest in an abstract butterfly pattern. His muscles played beneath his skin with every punch he drilled into the sandbag, and that was when she became aware of how powerful his arms and chest truly were. When he glanced at her from around the sandbag, there was a thin sheen of sweat that glistened over his skin.

“Cecilia. I didn’t hear you come in.” Welcome lit his hazel eyes, like twin gorgeous works of art in the anemic sunlight that streamed through the front windows. “I was, ah, getting in a workout before our lesson officially starts.”

“By all means, don’t let me interrupt you,” she said in a voice that was quite a bit more breathless than she’d intended. The ridges of his abdomen caught and held her attention, and suddenly she knew a powerful urge to lick syllabub or even champagne from his skin.

Pull yourself together, Ceci. He is not for you, and you don’t need a man in your life in such fashion. Have you learned nothing?

“I haven’t had the time to focus on my own fitness since the salon opened.” He took up a towel of woven linen, then wiped at the sweat on his brow and face. “Yet it’s critical a boxer remain in top form.”

“So I would imagine.” There were many questions about him she wanted to ask, but now didn’t seem the time. “It probably helps also to work out aggressions or clear your thoughts.”

“A bit. I still carry heavy responsibility even after punching the hell out of the bags.”

She cocked an eyebrow at his use of vulgarity, but it wasn’t that offensive. She’d heard worse while working at the docks. “Are we still having our lesson today?”

“We are.” When he gestured toward a table in the corner where padded mittens rested, he said, “Collect a pair of mittens. I’ll start you on the bags today.”

“All right.” After removing her cap and her tweed jacket, she dumped the garments onto the floor near the wall behind the punching bags. “You still wish for my hands to be protected? If I’m accosted on the street, I will not have mittens.”

“While this is true, I do not want your knuckles bloody and busted, for while a man might go about society with such and no one will say much, if a woman does the same, talk will jump from the dinner table to all over Town in three seconds.” As he wiped his chest with the towel, she followed the movement with her gaze. “You don’t need to find yourself a victim of the silver-tongued gossips.”

Warmth filled her chest, but she chose not to comment as she picked out a pair of mittens she liked. “I appreciate that. However, I rarely go out into society these days.” Truly, her life had grown quite dull, and she hadn’t been aware of that until she’d started coming to the boxing salon.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The earl tossed the towel on the floor near her discarded garments.

“Why?” She frowned at him as she drifted back into his orbit, and he helped her to don the mittens.

“You are an attractive woman whose father is an upstanding member of the ton , and a gentleman from all I understand,” he said with a shrug, then pulled the laces of one of the gloves tight. “Does your past history make you frightened of doing brave things?”

“Some.” As he did up the laces on the second glove, Cecilia had difficulties concentrating on the conversation with him half-clothed and so close. The scent of his shaving soap and cologne mingled with the earthier scent of man in her nose, and her pulse increased. Did it make her a fool that she enjoyed and appreciated this man’s form even while she’d made incredibly stupid choices in her past? To be fair, she’d been led down the garden path by her former fiancé, but shouldn’t she have more discernment? Yanking herself out of her thoughts, she sighed. “I have apparently no intuition when it comes to men, and quite frankly, I don’t wish to try again only to find myself disappointed or broken again.”

The admission might make her more vulnerable or an object of pity to him, but she couldn’t help but be authentic. Life was too short for anything else.

A muscle in his cheek ticced as he nodded. “Consider this, though. Many of us are broken; that doesn’t necessarily mean we are useless.” He moved behind her and nudged her over to one of the bags. “This one is filled with straw. I’ve put you onto this one before, but go ahead and throw a few punches until you’re familiar with your stance and form, then we’ll graduate you to the other one.”

How was she expected to concentrate on that task when the heat of him seeped into her body? Cecilia did as instructed, and there was a familiarity there with the mittens from when she used them during her last lesson. “This is different than hitting your hands.” When she drilled a mittened fist into the straw bag, it didn’t have the same satisfying purchase as hitting his hands had.

“While I understand, in this way you can correct your approach as well get a feel for the differences in things you might encounter during an attack. Men’s bodies are not the same.”

Well, that was an understatement, for it was night and day between Lewis and Mr. Derrickson. She nodded, and continued to hit the straw-filled bag with her right hand.

“Use both, Lia. Your attacker certainly will.”

Punch.

“But I’m not as strong with my left.”

“That won’t matter when either your life is in jeopardy, or an attacker is trying to rape you.” His expression was sober and his eyes like hard pieces of green sea glass when she met his gaze. “You’ll want every shred of skill and fight with you if that happens.”

“Thank you for the reminder.” Emboldened and slightly worried, Cecilia made a point to utilize her left hand more.

Punch.

“Remember, your knuckles guide the punch.” His voice was at her ear as the earl stepped close. He took hold of her left hand, corrected her stance. “Even with mittens, don’t forget the basics. Once you master those, you will be unstoppable.” The heat of his breath skated along her nape. “I can’t wait for that day.”

“Does that mean our lessons will go on indefinitely?”

Punch, punch.

“Not indefinitely, but certainly for the conceivable future.”

Another few punches came from her, and though she was weaker with her left, with some practice, her confidence would grow. Sweat rolled down her back, pasting her linen shirt to her skin, and the muscles in her arms began to ache, but she enjoyed the exercise. There was a certain amount of freedom there knowing she was learning how to defend herself.

“Lewis?” She half turned toward him, found him watching her with an intensity that sent heightened awareness sailing over her skin.

“Hmm?” When his gaze dropped to her mouth, a shiver of need went down her spine.

“Will you and I spar again today?”

“I wager we will, in a few ways.” He put a hand to her elbow. “Do you enjoy sparring?”

“Very much. I look forward to learning even more about the sport. It’s fascinating.” She gazed up at him, for she was at least a handful of inches shorter than he. “Also, you are a lovely teacher.”

In more ways than one.

“Are you always so honest?”

“Why would I lie? There is no value in it.” She shrugged. “Over the years, I’ve learned to take joy in the little moments where I can, because life has the potential to turn horrid all too soon.”

For long moments, he held her gaze, and his eyes shifted to that green hue again. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“My office.”

“Why?” She couldn’t help but frown as she struggled to keep pace with him as he guided her into the familiar space.

“Because I have apparently lost my damned mind.” As soon as they both had come into the room, Lewis caught her into his arms and brought his lips crashing down on hers.

Merciful heavens, this is becoming quite the habit!

For a fleeting second, Cecilia froze, met his gaze with surprise and shivering need coursing through her veins, but then she uttered a sigh mixed with a moan, looped her arms about his shoulders regardless of the padded mittens on her hands, and applied herself to kissing him back.

It was much as if a match had been dropped onto a pile of tinder.

In next to no time, something akin to a fire consumed her. What was it about this man in this time of her life that had her acting the wanton merely to experience another kiss? There were no answers, and at the back of her mind, she wondered if this was how she should have felt when she first became engaged years ago.

Or even more darkly, would the earl become something she hadn’t seen yet?

All thoughts flew out of her head when Lewis walked her backward until the window prevented further movement. Then he slipped his hands beneath her thighs and hefted her upward, pressing her back against the glass and trapping her between that and his body.

Dear God , if anyone came into the salon, what they were doing would be fully on display. And suddenly, it didn’t matter. For too long, she hadn’t given herself permission to enjoy life, and this was a moment of joy that would be over far too quickly. He tasted of coffee and sin and scandal; it was a heady combination that she chased with every frantic meeting of their mouths.

When he ran the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips, she opened for him. The second his tongue touched hers and the glide of satin and silk made the connection with her brain, Cecilia was in danger of being lost. Over and over again, he fenced with her, explored her mouth, tangled with her tongue, and it was all she could do to keep up with those heated kisses.

In order to find better purchase, she slipped her legs about his waist and locked her ankles at the small of his back. She wasn’t quite so innocent that she didn’t notice the bulge of his erection rubbing against the center of her. The friction at the rapidly swelling nubbin sent flutters of need careening down her spine to lodge between her thighs.

When a tiny mewl escaped her, quickly followed by a barely audible moan, he growled in response. And it simply wasn’t enough. Wanting more, craving it even, Cecilia nibbled and nipped at his bottom lip, then left his mouth entirely to press featherweighted kisses beneath his jaw. The smell of him, the taste of him, the heat of his bare chest all worked at her undoing.

Why didn’t I remove the mittens so at least I could touch him!

There were no answers, not in that moment where she fell through heat and passion and plain lust. In this moment, she felt wanted when she hadn’t been for such a long time, and had kept herself removed from even being close to a man.

“Bloody hell, Lia, what are you doing to me?” Renewing his grip on her thighs, Lewis turned her about, and still kissing her, he moved them to his desk. When he planted her arse upon it, a pile of invoices fluttered to the hardwood floor.

They both ignored the mess.

“I don’t know, but I can’t understand why this keeps happening between us,” she whispered and felt as if she were flying through fog.

“We should probably have more decorum or willpower.” His voice was a graveled whisper while he encouraged her backward over the desktop. As he settled himself between her splayed thighs, he dragged his lips down the side of her throat. When undoing the strings that held her borrowed shirt closed, he uttered a huff of apparent frustration, for then he grunted and yanked the shirttails from her breeches.

“You’re right. This isn’t proper at all.” Did it matter? They were both past the age of majority, and she had been on the shelf for a long while already. Nearly gone, Cecilia managed to wrench a padded mitten from her right hand, and once she did, her fingers went to his nape, pulling him closer. She put her lips to the hollow of his throat, then drew her fingertips down his naked chest, reveling at the tactile feel of him as his breath steamed her cheek.

“It is not.” Yet that didn’t deter him, for he slipped his hands beneath her shirt to cup her breasts.

When he kneaded them, the sensations tugged a surprised moan from her throat. She grinned against his mouth, but as he brushed the pads of his thumbs over her hardening nipples, she moaned as if she had no shame. “Lewis…” Familiar tingles zipped up and down her spine, for she remembered this from her engagement, but it was so different with the earl. As her back arched the longer he played, he shoved up the shirt so he could take one of the buds into his mouth. “Oh!” How was it possible to feel like flying with him, when this act had been fear-laden with her fiancé? While he continued to torment the nipple with his lips and teeth, he teased the other with his thumb. “This is…” Her words dissolved beneath another moan of pleasure. “Do that again.”

“So responsive.” A chuckle escaped as he again flicked his tongue over that tip.

Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Fires erupted in her blood. Oh, how she wanted to give herself over into this man’s care, but something held her back, a tiny niggle of fear that played her spine, yet he made her feel so wonderful it was confusing. Did it mean he was merely like all the rest of the men she’d come into contact with, and he only wanted access to her body? She knew nothing about him beyond what pertained to the boxing salon. That would prove problematic. “Lewis, I have…” The questions vanished beneath another wave of pleasure. When he took her other nipple into his mouth, her arm with the padded mitten still attached flailed outward. A ledger book tumbled to the floor with a loud thud.

The noise must have jarred the earl from his task, for he pulled slightly backward and peered down at her with darkened eyes. “Good thing we’re alone, hmm?”

Except the sound of an exhalation of breath at the door echoed loudly in the sudden hush of the room. “What the devil is going on in here?”

And that wasn’t a product of her imagination.

“Alexander, what the hell are you doing here? It’s Sunday.” The low rumble of the earl’s voice reverberated in her chest, and as he turned about to face the man she vaguely remembered as his brother, he shielded her from the newcomer’s gaze while she scrambled to tug the padded mitten off her left hand.

Oh, no! As Cecilia struggled into a seated position on the desk and tried to set her borrowed clothing to rights, she unashamedly listened to their conversation.

The other man, perhaps a couple of years younger than Lewis, bounced his gaze between them as amusement lined his face. “I thought to come here and tackle the books and invoices in the quiet where I wouldn’t be interrupted, but obviously the desk is being used for other… endeavors just now.”

Embarrassed heat fired in her cheeks. She slithered off the desk. “I should go.”

The odd mix of pleading and panic in Lewis’ eyes as he darted a glance at her stayed her flight. “Please stay. At least for a bit.” A muscle in his cheek ticced. “I apologize for taking advantage of you.”

Though she nodded, the other man—Alexander—spoke before she could. “My brother is correct, Miss…?”

“Dawson,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Miss Dawson. Please stay.” His grin was wide but genuine as he rested his gaze, so like his brother’s, on her. “Even more so since you have seemed to garner the interest of my brother. That instantly makes you interesting.” He stepped around Lewis and extended a hand to her. “Hullo. I am Viscount Wexley, but you may call me Alexander. I have a feeling this won’t be the last time I see you.”

If possible, the heat in her cheeks intensified. “Lovely to meet you.” Barely had she slipped her hand into the viscount’s when Lewis uttered a sound suspiciously like a growl and broke their contact.

“Enough. Alex, you should go.” As he crossed his arms at his chest, he scowled.

Which seemed to amuse his brother even further. “Not likely.” He focused his attention on the earl. “Miss Dawson is a lovely woman. You should go out into society with her, Lewis.”

He scowled even more fiercely. “She is a student. We are not in a courtship.”

“One could argue that point since you are half naked and she was sprawled over your desk in her own form of undress.” But there was no censure in the viscount’s voice. “Obviously, you have a connection with the lady, so you should court her.”

“Do shut up,” was all Lewis said, while Cecilia looked on in some interest.

“I won’t.” Alexander shook his head as his grin grew wider. “What’s wrong with Miss Dawson? I imagine when she’d not dressed as a boy, she is quite pretty.” He tossed a glance her way, and her cheeks heated again. “Are you by chance related to a Captain Dawson?”

Though it was odd, this standing between two brothers on the heels of a scandalous embrace, she was thrilled that someone knew her father. “He is my father. Are you a contemporary of his?”

“No, but I know of him, and I see his name on the ledger books.” He gave her a wink, much to the annoyance of the earl. “We purchase equipment, and the fabric for the sand and straw bags, through his shipping outfit.”

“Oh!” She gasped. Were the brothers the new client her father had spoken of a month or so ago? “How interesting.”

“Indeed.” The viscount nodded. “Also, I could swear he was friends with my father.”

“I believe that too. Papa said as much regarding the earl a couple of days ago to me when I mentioned I was taking lessons here.” She stooped to collect the scattered invoices as well as the ledger book that had fallen from the desk. “If you should run into problems with the accounting, I’d be willing to assist you. It’s what I do for my father’s office; numbers have always come easy to me.”

“Ah, I might just ask you to do that, for numbers vex me.” Alexander rushed to assist her in putting everything onto the desktop. “Has my reprobate brother told you that he’ll be fighting in a public bout tomorrow?”

“What?” With another gasp, she glanced at the earl. “You fight outside of this salon?”

“I do upon occasion. For coin.” He unbent enough to search out a shirt in one of the drawers of his desk. “When my shoulder and knee allow.”

What did that mean? “Have you sustained injuries from the sport, then?”

“Some, but they haven’t killed me yet.” Quickly, he smoothed the fine lawn garment over his head and down his torso as he shoved his arms into the sleeves.

She frowned when he covered that lovely expanse of naked chest. “I see.”

Alexander chuckled. “How much has she ascertained about boxing and you?”

“I don’t know.” A dark flush rose up the earl’s neck. “Enough. I suppose.”

“Ha!” A snort issued from Cecilia. “Not nearly enough, about him or boxing.” When she transferred her attention to the viscount, she shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about himself.”

“That sounds like Lewis.” The cheeky grin didn’t fade from his face. “So I’ll give you a quick history. Because our father squandered the family fortune, we’re not far from dun territory so we need to make income. Lewis is trying to win prize purses that will help with that. Duncan and I are also taking slots in bouts.” As he talked, he moved closer to her. “If you want to know the truth of the matter, I’m the better boxer, but not nearly as good as Duncan. I’m also much more charming.”

“That’s quite enough, Alex,” the earl warned, but his brother paid him no heed.

“Miss Dawson, if Lewis fails to interest you, I’d be more than happy to escort you about Town. Perhaps take you driving on Rotten Row, do all the usual summertime things ton ladies enjoy.” He winked again. “I wouldn’t mind having such a woman on my arm.”

“Oh!” What had she done in her life to have two men from the same family showing an interest in her?

“Over my dead body,” Lewis said in a voice that echoed with sounds of a growl. It was quite possessive, but it was more protective as he moved toward her.

She frowned at him. Outside of the two kisses she had shared with the earl, he hadn’t made any such offers to interact with her beyond the bounds of the salon, not that she’d encouraged him, but it was lovely to think that a handsome man might wish to. “It’s truly a wonderful offer, Lord Wexley, and I wouldn’t mind—”

“No.” Lewis shook his head. Briefly, he touched a hand to the small of her back before breaking the connection when Alexander eyed him with speculation. “Leave her alone, Alex. She is not for you. Or even Duncan for that matter.”

“Oh?” One of the other man’s eyebrows rose in challenge. “Why not? You apparently don’t know how to treat a woman.”

Another flush rose up Lewis’ neck. “Miss Dawson deserves much more than to be squired about for a few weeks, bedded, then abandoned as is your usual way of things. She is not destined to be someone’s mistress or plaything.”

“Ah, so then what I just saw you doing with her must have been something different?”

The sarcasm was apparently lost on the earl, for both she and the viscount stared at him.

Finally, Alexander chuckled. “That’s rather how Duncan lives his life. I’d be different, but I can see how you already have laid down a claim on Miss Dawson even if you don’t know that yet.” Dismissing him, the viscount turned the full of his attention on her. “Would you enjoy attending the bout with me as my guest? It will be early enough that we can all return to Town before dinner. You can come to the salon disguised. I’ll escort you there so you can watch Lewis fight, and find out what bare-knuckle boxing is truly about.”

That sounded all too interesting, and if it would afford her another chance to see the earl shirtless, why shouldn’t she? Besides, it might help her understand him better, and there was no harm in it since she would be in a disguise. Of course, being in that company would see her reputation ruined if something were to happen… “I would enjoy that. Thank you.”

“The bout is tomorrow around midday. They are usually on the weekends, but it depends on who is organizing the bouts. In the outskirts of Surrey. Meet me here around nine o’clock in the morning.”

“I will.” She nodded.

Lewis blew out a breath as he captured his brother in his annoyed gaze. “You realize I am traveling with you and Duncan, don’t you?”

“I do, but since you are acting like a Barbarian, I thought I’d play the gentleman in front of Miss Dawson so she can easily see the contrast between us.”

While she bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing, the earl glowered. “Do shut up, Alex. I won’t ask you again.” For long moments, the brothers stared each other down.

“And after the bout?” the viscount asked, clearly not backing down, which was providential because she was interested in the outcome as well.

“Fine.” Lewis blew out a breath of apparent frustration or even resignation. “I will take Miss Dawson out into society, perhaps a trip to the British Museum. I owe her at least that.”

“Good.” With a wide grin, Alex winked at her. “It seems I have much to look forward to in the upcoming days.” Then he made a shooing motion with his hands. “Now, the two of you need to get out of this office. I have accounting work to take care of.”

Cecilia nodded. “And our lesson isn’t over.” After retrieving her discarded padded mittens, she left the office with a queer little spring to her step, for it felt rather as if she were teetering on the edge of something far larger than boxing lessons.

But what? Nothing much had changed, except the desire she had for the earl continued to grow. That was a problem for another day.