Traveler, L.E. DeLano [book series for 12 year olds .TXT] 📗

“Whatever you need to learn, I’ll be happy to tutor, as needed.”

A devilish gleam lights his eyes, and I flush under his regard. “I think you’ve tutored this Jessa enough.”

“Apparently not,” he disagrees. “You need to learn how to fight dirty, love. If you were going to be living a life with a privateer, you’d be spending a lot of time at the docks—which are not always the most savory of locations, unfortunately.” He pulls me up to my feet. “Here. Let me show you something.”

He spins me around, knocking me off-balance again, and wraps his arms around me. I’m still out of breath, and I try my best to calm my breathing down. It must be the corset.

Sure it is, Jessa.

“The key to getting a man off you when he’s already got you in a stranglehold is creating some space,” Finn goes on. “This is best done with the element of surprise.”

He reaches out, taking both my hands in his, and sets his chin down on my shoulder as he instructs me. I can feel his cheek rubbing against mine, the stubble of the slight beard he has here. It feels incredible. And I have to remember to breathe.

He takes my left hand, curling it into a fist, and places it in the palm of my right hand.

“There now,” he says. “Wriggle your hands free any way you can, and get your fist braced in your other hand. Then use the added push from the fist into the open hand to propel your elbow back into his ribs or stomach. Aim lower, if you can. Go ahead,” he urges. “Give it a try.”

I turn my head, and I’m a hairbreadth from his lips. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, keep it gentle and keep it above the belt, then, if you please.”

He gives me a wink, and I can’t help but smile. I push with my right hand and drive my left elbow into his stomach, hearing the whoosh of his breath leaving him.

“Gads!” he complains. “You call that gentle?”

“Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “Now what?”

He straightens back up, rubbing his stomach. “Now that you’ve got him bent over, you can give him a knee to the head or slam your reticule down across his neck, provided you’re like most women and carry an arsenal in yours.”

I laugh. “I really have no idea,” I say. “Do I even know what a reticule is?” I wonder aloud. It’s coming to me.

“Your handbag.” He points at the bag lying on the bench next to my gloves. “With all that beading, you could have hit the cad in the eyes and blinded him for life.”

I look down at myself, raising my arms and slapping them down on my voluminous skirts. “I have no idea what to do with all this stuff,” I complain. “And if I don’t get out of this corset soon, I’m going to pass out.”

“I can help you with that.” The corner of his mouth lifts in an irresistible smile.

“Here? In a garden?”

He just looks at me, and the memory comes flooding back. Oh, yes. In a garden. More than once.

“Oh,” I say, and I blush again.

“I was merely going to suggest that you let me adjust your laces, love. Give you some more breathing room.”

I glance around, but we’re behind a set of bushes not visible from the main path, and there’s nobody out here now that dessert is being served.

“Okay,” I say, turning so my back is to him. His fingers are deft and quick as he unfastens my gown. I can feel the breeze on my skin, and I let out an involuntary groan at how good it feels.

His fingertips brush my skin, raising gooseflesh on my arms as he pulls at the corset strings, loosening them another inch. I feel him tie them off, then suddenly his hands are inside my gown, sliding over my shoulder blades as I feel his lips meet the back of my neck.

“You feel like my Jessa,” he murmurs.

I look over my shoulder and his lips touch mine softly, and then he turns me so he can deepen the kiss. I lift my arms to circle his neck and it’s like we ignite. My hands thread into his hair, clinging, and his hands move and shift across my back to my waist, pulling me in, and it’s all I can do to breathe, despite my loosened corset.

His lips slide down to my neck again and I’m gripping his shoulders hard when suddenly, he pulls away and flips me back around so he can fasten up my gown.

I hear the sound of heels crunching on the gravel walkway that runs along the other side of the bushes a moment later.

“Jessamyn? Are you out here?” My mother’s voice carries clearly in the night air.

I turn panicked eyes to Finn, who puts a finger to my lips, signaling me to keep quiet. He leaves the finger there, stroking it slowly back and forth as he smiles down at me. Finally, her footsteps fade into the distance, and I can breathe again.

I push his hand away and get hastily to my feet.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” he asks, reaching out for my hand.

“I—I really should get back.” I didn’t come here to make out with Finn. Did I?

I take a deep breath in an effort to calm my racing heart, and I’m grateful that I actually can. “Thanks for the adjustment,” I say. “That’s so much better. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I scoop up my reticule and gloves, holding them both in front of me.

“I’ll walk you inside,” he offers, falling into step beside me. “No one will notice me in this crush.” He puts his hands down deep into his pockets, just like my Finn does. I can’t help but smile.

“What?” he asks.

“You do that just like my Finn. Your hands in your pockets.”

“Is he very like me, then?”

“In some ways. You’re a lot more … outspoken.”

“So are