Page 26

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T he next morning, Diana changed into the bare minimum necessary to stay respectable—a soft muslin dressing robe to cover her sheer night rail.

She clasped the chain around her throat that held Albie’s gift, the sapphire, in the event she should see him.

Heart pattering, she tip-toed down the stairs to fetch a plate of fresh fruit and a rasher of toast.

A newly minted married woman, Diana could break her fast in bed with a meal brought by her lady’s maid. Customarily, however, she was hardly what one might call an early riser. So she had instructed Izzie not to worry about her breakfast tray until eight of the clock at the earliest.

By the by, Diana hadn’t managed to get much sleep, thoughts all a tumble. Wide awake at five in the morning and seeing little point in lazing about, hoping for a return to slumber that never came, she resolved to get some food in her stomach.

As she made her way to the breakfast room, Diana hesitated before an east-facing drawing room.

The door was ajar, and she caught a glimpse of a fire already flickering in the hearth and a white riding coat thrown carelessly over a pedestal stool.

Was Albie already in there preparing for a business call regarding some family affair?

“Husband?” she called playfully. “What on earth commands you to rise so early?”

She stepped inside and then halted.

Albion stood facing a side window, dappled light from the early sunrise seeping through the panes, overlooking a trellis with lattice woodwork of starbursts and diamonds, which afforded privacy from the townhouse on the opposite side.

His arms and legs were outstretched, legs bent slightly, and he had twisted his oblique muscles so that he looked out the window while his body faced the doorway.

A most admirable callisthenic.

Diana took a moment to appreciate her husband’s striking face in profile, fit to embellish a gold coin of the ancients. Its aesthetic value was only amplified by the thick horn and jutting fang visible from this vantage point.

Her husband was shockingly naked from the waist up, his dark green chest and powerful neck exposed. The great span of his shoulders and sinewy strength of his biceps were so attractive she caught herself goggling and quite at a loss for words.

“Wife!” he said, abruptly breaking the pose. Albie cast an anxious glance at the wall clock ticking away. It was only a quarter of six. “You are an early riser, then?”

“Rarely.” Any further comment muddled in her mind as she tried not to stare at the black hair threading in such an enticing manner from the center of Albion’s chest to his naval, bisecting the delineated muscles of his midsection.

“I asked Miss Isabel to permit me to deliver your breakfast.” He headed for the pedestal stool to grab the shirt he had thrown over it. “If you prefer to come down—”

“Wait.” Diana grasped his wrist, her fingers covering a mere portion of its diameter. Then, hardly believing her boldness, she added: “I see no reason you should stop your exercises, my good husband. Rather, why don’t you show me your practice? I shall endeavor to follow.”

His broad smile returned, the one that dazzled the ton but was now hers alone.

“So be it. But I expect you to dress suitably for this effort.”

“You must provide instruction on the proper attire.”

“Removing your robe as a start.” He hesitated, drawing a breath. “If you so please.”

Though the fire was ablaze in the hearth, she quivered. She longed to bear herself for Albion, to feel her bare skin against his. And what would he make of her? How would she compare to the others that had come before?

Diana could not refuse. Her desire would not allow it.

She did not want to refuse. She wanted him to see her and then come what may.

She loosened the robe and allowed it to drop to her feet.

Now, she stood before him wearing nothing but the thin night rail that accentuated every part of her body, the sapphire around her neck somehow only adding to her near nakedness.

“You are beautiful, Daisy,” he said in a low baritone, the authentic version of his voice that reverberated in her heart and soul. “You know as much, do you not?”

What could she tell him? She had been taught that inner beauty mattered most, but at the same time, outer beauty resulted in a husband and a life of respectability. And that her presentation had often fallen short of her mother’s ideal.

But not in Albie’s eyes. And that was all that mattered. “I own it gratifies me to hear you say so.”

Diana took her place at Albie’s left side and mirrored his lead.

As he ran through the fluid motions—arms extended, then raised high above his head, legs bent and then straightened—she could not help but gawk at his stunning body.

Her attempts to emulate Albie’s movements were lacking at best, but she would not have left the room for all the sapphires in the world.

“Are these movements from the Hidden Realm?” she asked because if she didn’t say anything, her passion would burst, and she didn’t know how to manage it. “I can’t own familiarity with such things, though I imagine men do something to keep themselves fit.”

“Horse riding and some amateur bouts in the fighting rings from what I’ve observed,” Albie said, moving smoothly to hold one ankle and lift his opposite arm so that his body formed a triangular shape.

Diana was intrigued by the pose but deemed it too complex to attempt.

“Do English ladies not exercise their bodies?”

“Oh, we are encouraged to take our dancing lessons and constitutionals,” Diana told him. “Riding. We were taught side saddle. At one point, Mother had me walking around with a heavy book atop my head to correct my posture. I’m not sure that counts.”

“Dunc finds Orcan calisthenics superior to the English habits,” Albie said, straightening once more. “As with many matters, I disagree with my brother. They are different but hardly superior. Still, I grew accustomed to them as a boy and continue the practice nearly every morning.”

“To splendid results,” Diana said before giving her words a proper think.

“Would you like to attempt additional poses?”

“Sometimes it is better to watch to learn.”

“But more fun together, wouldn’t you say? Here. Let’s try a simple one. That which you first saw when you walked in.”

Deeply distracted by her husband’s bare chest and commanding arms, Diana scarcely remembered the position in which she had first found him.

But he moved into it straightaway. She lengthened her legs and arms before turning toward the window, limbs stationary, legs trembling as she tried to crook her knee.

Albion broke his stance to observe. “May I adjust your stature, Dais?”

Body positively thrumming with effort and desire, Diana nodded.

Albie positioned himself behind her, adjusting her arms with a light touch that sent sparks shooting haphazardly inside of her. He lightly tapped her shoulders to encourage her to bend her legs. And then, most shockingly, he placed his hands on either side of her waist to steady her.

“Does that feel all right?”

“More than all right,” she whispered.

Before he could say anything else, she turned toward him.

He slid her arms above her head and tilted her toward the window to take a new position.

His claws had retracted, and she felt only the impressive muscles of his hand and the slight hardness of his perfectly groomed nails as he ran his fingers up the length of her arms, starting from her shoulder, trailing over her skin, and working down to the very tips of her fingers.

“I don’t know if I have the aptitude for this.” Her voice sounded strangled. She punctuated the remark with a foolish laugh.

“This is the first time you’ve attempted them, yet you need little guidance. Let us proceed to the second part of the morning routine.”

His amber eyes seemed hewn of fire, so she thought he would suggest they retreat to the bedchamber.

“Combat,” he told her.

“How do you attend to your business of the day with such a lavish morning routine?”

“Only a few moves.” He postured before her in a manner akin to a pugilist in a ring. “See if you can land a blow, and I’ll demonstrate a block.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Just try.”

“I have no chance!”

“No, but it will be gentle enough and then I can show you how to accomplish the same.”

“To what end?”

“I do not imagine you will walk down many lonely roads at night where robbers, and worse, lurk in the shadows. Regardless, there is something imminently empowering in knowing a body can defend itself needs be.”

“Women practice this in the Hidden Realm?”

“Women are the best at it.”

“Very well then.” She tried to match his stance. “I intend to give you my worst, sir.”

She tried to punch him lightly, like a fencer practicing with a soft-tipped foil. He warded her off with ease, slowly taking hold of her wrists as he caught her blow and pressing them gently into her chest. His face hovered above hers, and his body drew deliciously near.

Her Albie.

“If you encountered some bandit attacking you at night, I would encourage you to fight back. Target something soft. Their eyes, their ears. Please refrain from such tactics for now, but try to knock me over.”

“Husband!”

“You will not hurt me.”

“How could I ever knock you over, given our difference in size?”

“Take my wrists as I showed you. It will disable my balance.”

“Very well.” Diana assumed the pugilist’s stance once more. “Give it a go then.”

“I will attempt to abduct you, but the defense is the same.”

He reached for her. She grasped his wrists per the demonstration. Blazes! It worked. Only when he started tumbling to the soft carpet beneath them she neglected to let go and thus lost her balance, landing on top of him.

They were as close to one another as they had been when they kissed. And their eyes met even more intensely.

“You were right,” she said slowly. “This is fun.”