of defense.
"Needless to say, the boys and I found considerable humor in the very idea of a defense relating to the strange slow dance. Against the protests of my interpreter, I approached the man leading the dance. A man named Hiroko. I asked for a demonstration of its application to fighting. He refused. He said the ancient art had no application to fighting; it was used only for defense, and besides, he rather doubted an Englishman, any Englishman, being a lowly uncivilized barbarian who did not own the sense or consideration to bathe, could benefit from a demonstration of the ancient art. At length we agreed on a payment and Hiroko, half my size and weight, gave me a demonstration of the strange dance's rather startling application to fighting. I returned to consciousness the next day
"Again Hiroko refused my request for instruction. Not for all the jewels in the Kyoto, he said, as productive a use of his time 'as tossing cups of water into the ocean.' The ancient art was taught from boyhood, the training had far more to do with the mind than the body, and I, being a barbarian, could certainly never benefit. Finally, a price was set. I stayed six months with that man, and teach me he did." With feeling he added, "I think I learned more in that six months than many men learn in the whole of their lifetime. For instance, child: I know you did not learn the Oriental tricks in an English seminary for girls."
Her eyes held his for a long moment before looking away, surveying the surroundings for something, anything familiar. A mind-numbing weariness washed over her; she fought it back. The depth of her confusion scared her; she didn't know anything but that she had to escape.
She had to run.
He studied the girl: bare feet spread and arms slightly raised, looking more ridiculous than Blackbeard in a nightshirt and cap. She rubbed the palm of her hand against her forehead, a gesture of distress. Rather extreme distress. He saw her fear now, and the sight of its magnitude brought an awareness of the herculean effort she put to hiding it. Perhaps they should ring for breakfast. The brat could certainly use a decent meal.
"So where were you in the Orient?"
She did not understand the question, yet alone his changed manner. Where was she in the Orient? Malacca, but—
She shook her head, hesitantly as if trying to clear the incoherent jumble in her mind. All she knew was that someone was trying to kill her.
There was only one person with her and he could do it.
She turned to flee.
"Oh, for God's sake,” he swore softly as he came off the bed and pretended to lunge for her. Anticipating the strike of the hard sole of her raised foot, he was not disappointed. He caught the small foot, aiding its flight into the air. She dropped backside to the ground, but used the defeat to roll backward, legs over head until she was upright again, though crouched, her toes holding her weight, her hands lightly touching the cold floor.
"You're very good, child. I am impressed."
She took one look, her eyes widened dramatically to accommodate the magnificence and wonder of his unclad state, the erect and engorged manhood—he was quite naked!—far more threatening than the bit of amusement and much larger flash of irritation in his hazel eyes. For a long moment, she was utterly transfixed by him, it, that part, the novelty of its transformation, a previously unimagined horror.
"You suffer a deformity!" A grotesque deformity, she saw, swallowing her fear with effort."Like a demon, you are!"
He followed her wide-eyed gaze to discover the genesis of her words. His eyes narrowed as he chuckled meanly at this, probably the last thing he expected from the wench. "I might have known that on top of a battered and beaten bag of bones, the foulest and most ungrateful disposition, you'd be a virgin to boot. Listen, child: where did you come from? I'll pay a handsome sum to send you back—"
She did not wait for him to finish. She sprung high in the
"Needless to say, the boys and I found considerable humor in the very idea of a defense relating to the strange slow dance. Against the protests of my interpreter, I approached the man leading the dance. A man named Hiroko. I asked for a demonstration of its application to fighting. He refused. He said the ancient art had no application to fighting; it was used only for defense, and besides, he rather doubted an Englishman, any Englishman, being a lowly uncivilized barbarian who did not own the sense or consideration to bathe, could benefit from a demonstration of the ancient art. At length we agreed on a payment and Hiroko, half my size and weight, gave me a demonstration of the strange dance's rather startling application to fighting. I returned to consciousness the next day
"Again Hiroko refused my request for instruction. Not for all the jewels in the Kyoto, he said, as productive a use of his time 'as tossing cups of water into the ocean.' The ancient art was taught from boyhood, the training had far more to do with the mind than the body, and I, being a barbarian, could certainly never benefit. Finally, a price was set. I stayed six months with that man, and teach me he did." With feeling he added, "I think I learned more in that six months than many men learn in the whole of their lifetime. For instance, child: I know you did not learn the Oriental tricks in an English seminary for girls."
Her eyes held his for a long moment before looking away, surveying the surroundings for something, anything familiar. A mind-numbing weariness washed over her; she fought it back. The depth of her confusion scared her; she didn't know anything but that she had to escape.
She had to run.
He studied the girl: bare feet spread and arms slightly raised, looking more ridiculous than Blackbeard in a nightshirt and cap. She rubbed the palm of her hand against her forehead, a gesture of distress. Rather extreme distress. He saw her fear now, and the sight of its magnitude brought an awareness of the herculean effort she put to hiding it. Perhaps they should ring for breakfast. The brat could certainly use a decent meal.
"So where were you in the Orient?"
She did not understand the question, yet alone his changed manner. Where was she in the Orient? Malacca, but—
She shook her head, hesitantly as if trying to clear the incoherent jumble in her mind. All she knew was that someone was trying to kill her.
There was only one person with her and he could do it.
She turned to flee.
"Oh, for God's sake,” he swore softly as he came off the bed and pretended to lunge for her. Anticipating the strike of the hard sole of her raised foot, he was not disappointed. He caught the small foot, aiding its flight into the air. She dropped backside to the ground, but used the defeat to roll backward, legs over head until she was upright again, though crouched, her toes holding her weight, her hands lightly touching the cold floor.
"You're very good, child. I am impressed."
She took one look, her eyes widened dramatically to accommodate the magnificence and wonder of his unclad state, the erect and engorged manhood—he was quite naked!—far more threatening than the bit of amusement and much larger flash of irritation in his hazel eyes. For a long moment, she was utterly transfixed by him, it, that part, the novelty of its transformation, a previously unimagined horror.
"You suffer a deformity!" A grotesque deformity, she saw, swallowing her fear with effort."Like a demon, you are!"
He followed her wide-eyed gaze to discover the genesis of her words. His eyes narrowed as he chuckled meanly at this, probably the last thing he expected from the wench. "I might have known that on top of a battered and beaten bag of bones, the foulest and most ungrateful disposition, you'd be a virgin to boot. Listen, child: where did you come from? I'll pay a handsome sum to send you back—"
She did not wait for him to finish. She sprung high in the
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