Unable to reply, she nodded.
“That is the reach that I have. Now you try to reach,” he urged.
She guffawed. “I think I can guess that mine is shorter.”
“Do it anyway,” he prompted.
Since he was giving the lesson and she wished to be a good sport, she humored him. Beatrice stretched out her arm.
Her hand was a few inches from his chest.
“So you observe,” he said gently. “My reach exceeds yours, but that is not the end of the story.”
All she could think of was the feel of his hand upon her shoulder and the fact that their bodies were but feet away from each other.
“Now I could easily land a good blow from this standpoint,” he continued as if her body wasn’t suddenly on fire at the mere touch of his hand. “But you are so nimble and quick that it might be difficult for me to catch hold of you or land a blow.”
“Oh, I see,” she breathed, liking this bit of information very much. Life always seemed to be in favor of the big and powerful. It was nice to know there were advantages to the other side. “Who knew I was a veritable David to your Goliath?”
William choked out a laugh. “You shall never bore me.”
“One does hate to be bored,” she replied, feeling merrier by the moment.
“Yes, one does,” he admitted.
It was something that they both seemed to share. Neither of them could be too still or alone with their thoughts too long. They both seemed to find it imperative to keep moving, to keep acting, to keep changing the world.
“We shall begin slowly circling each other,” he said, stepping to his left.
“You’re not teaching me how to punch,” she pointed out, rather liking the idea of hitting something. Ladies were not allowed to express their anger or frustrations physically. And while she did not plan on boxing with someone truly, she liked the idea of at least having the option of punching the devil out of a pillow.
“Not yet,” he said. “Right now, I just wish you to circle and copy my movement.”
They began rotating. Twin points, moving back and forth, slowly round and round. It was hypnotic the way they balanced each other’s every move.
She locked gazes with him, and he with her.
Everything about this moment was captivating. It deviated from the formality of the waltz they had shared, and there was an inescapable fluidity to their exchange.
But William was coiled. Ready for action.
Even in this practice setting, he seemed completely at ease in his body, as if it was the perfect home for him. She marveled at the way he embodied his physique and the way he so easily and kindly instructed her.
She followed him about the room, then her slipper caught in the hem of her gown. “Blazes,” she blurted as she nearly went down but staggered back into circling.
He moved toward her, but she waved him off.
“Oh, dear,” she said lightly. “This gown is a definite hazard.”
He gave a rueful grin. “I confess I don’t ever have to worry about such things.”
“Another thing that gentlemen do not have to worry about.” She sighed playfully.
“We shall have to make a list.”
“It will not be a list,” she said honestly. “It shall be a three-volume tome.”
“Devilish pain,” he replied sympathetically. “It’s most unjust, a damn nuisance.”