Page 15 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

T he next morning, Daisy was in knots after she finished breakfast with Amelia and her brother.

She’d hoped they’d eat with Alston, to have another chance to look at him in the daylight, but Amelia said he was still asleep.

Afterward, they wanted to take her around London, but Daisy promised she’d rather stay in and read.

She expected them to pressure her to comply, but instead they hurried off together.

The weather was looking dreadful now as Daisy paced her room.

It had not begun to rain, but the sky was dark and brooding.

She left her room and took the back stairs down to the second floor.

When she peeked down the hall, there was no one outside Alston’s room.

She’d brought a book, just in case Miss Smith was still there.

That way she had a reasonably appropriate reason to visit him.

Approaching Alston’s door, she slowed, listening for voices, but all she heard was a soft, masculine humming coming from inside.

Could Alston sing? She imagined him performing at a musicale, surrounded by swooning ladies.

A charming and gorgeous man like him, with his delectable blonde curls, singing a romantic ballad would steal any woman’s heart.

Should she knock? Her heart was already making a racket in her ears. Daisy settled for a soft tap.

“Enter,” came his voice, and her stomach fluttered. Was this the right thing to do?

Helping someone in need was always the right thing to do, but this was different.

She was defying Amelia’s wishes and, most importantly, entering a man’s bedchamber alone.

To be caught in this situation would ruin her reputation.

There was a mountain of consequences she would be taunting by entering this room.

Her hand froze on the knob, and she rested her forehead on the wood and closed her eyes.

Her heart was racing, a frightened fox being chased by a hoard of dogs.

She drew in a breath, and cold sweat beaded on her lower back.

Walking barefoot on grass was one thing, but this? What had she been thinking to agree to help him?

“Daisy, is that you?”

Her heart skidded to a stop. Her feet would not move. He knew she was out here. There was a heavy thud, and Daisy wrenched the door open, visions of him sprawled on the floor in pain filling her head. She stopped just inside the entry, holding her breath.

He stared at her with a raised brow. “You look pale. Are you well?”

“Me?” she panted as she inspected him. He was sitting up in bed, presumably well, and there on the floor was a book. Her chest pinched. Her heart surely was not capable of withstanding the ups and downs of committing acts of good trouble. She was not built for this.

“Close the door, if you please.”

Daisy blinked and refocused on the present. She closed the door gently, hesitating. Should she lock it?

“Don’t lock it,” he said, reading her spinning thoughts. He chuckled. “Could you imagine what they’d think if anyone discovered it? You and me in a locked room.”

A calamity. It would be a disaster of epic proportions.

Daisy turned to face him. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Too late. You already agreed, and you’re already here. Come closer. I won’t bite. It will be hard to help me regain my strength with you all the way over there.”

Daisy gathered her courage and approached the bed.

His gaze wandered over her, and for every second he studied her, her temperature seemed to rise a degree.

Her plain white gown was modest, the sleeves reaching her wrists and the neckline a ruffle at her throat.

It wasn’t that she thought he’d attempt to seduce her, but it made her feel a bit more proper.

In any case, he was likely used to more fashionable women who could flirt effortlessly and smile mysteriously. Not hapless, inexperienced wallflowers.

Though she wouldn’t be a wallflower if she were allowed to behave like other young ladies, would she? Instead, all she knew of society was sitting beside Lady Claystone at a handful of private balls and waiting for Lord Cliffton. Perpetually waiting.

The reminder steeled her nerves. Good trouble.

Cliffton would not like this. The countess would have an apoplectic fit to learn Daisy was alone with a young, handsome lord.

She was making a choice they could not control.

Daisy never knew defiance could feel so splendid. But more than that, he needed her help.

“I had Petrov open the curtains,” he said as she finally went nearer, “but the day seems to not want to shed light in here. Forgive me if the room seems a tad dark and gothic.”

Daisy assessed the room. “It’s fine. What is it I’m supposed to do?”

“Well, Dr. Sloan is gone, and he didn’t have much to say other than move about . So far, I’ve been allowed to move from the bed to that chair.” He pointed to the chair on his left that was only a couple feet away.

“That is not very far,” Daisy said.

“Exactly. It’s only two steps, and I had to fight for that extra step. Can you imagine how much longer my recovery will take if I can only take a step further a week?”

Daisy nodded. “I can, almost. How difficult are the two steps?”

He sighed. “It’s a combination of factors.”

Daisy bit her lip. He didn’t want to admit those two steps were difficult. What was she supposed to do to encourage him?

“Dr. Sloan gave me some books about physical muscle systems.”

Daisy bent and picked up the book from the floor and handed it back to him.

“This book is about a man who didn’t leave his bed for a year due to a prolonged illness. It took him months to learn to walk again. He had the strength of an infant. The muscles in his limbs withered away.”

“I see.” But she didn’t. She was lost, and looking at him as he spoke made her thoughts disassemble into nonsense.

Weak was not what came to mind when she looked at him.

Weak was what she was, embarrassed and nervous just to be alone in a room with a man who couldn’t take two steps.

Her and her shameless body! It wanted to erupt in sensations and temperatures whenever their eyes connected. She had to get hold of herself.

“I need to resist you,” he said.

Daisy’s attention snapped back to him. “I beg your pardon?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Were you listening to anything I said?”

She nodded. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Get on the bed.”

Her knees wobbled. But if she asked him why, then she’d be admitting she hadn’t been paying attention. This was his fault. He had no business looking like he did. Shirt open at the neck, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Even his hands and forearms were distracting.

He shoved the coverlet lower, and her throat dried. She didn’t know what she expected, but his brown breeches seemed just as scintillating as if he’d shown his bare legs.

Why was her head filled with nettles when it came to him?

Daisy turned, put both hands on the corner of the bed behind her, and hopped up. “Now what?” she asked.

“Pull the coverlet down past my feet. I promise they are clean.”

What was she going to do with his feet?

He chuckled. “If you could see your expression...”

“What? What am I doing?”

“You look like I just asked you to eat a bug.”

Daisy shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This is highly unusual. For both of us.”

“It is?”

“I don’t normally invite women into my bed to touch my feet, Daisy.”

Her blush could have set the linens on fire. He smirked.

Daisy snatched the coverlet down. “Are you enjoying yourself, my lord?”

“Just Alston will do.”

Daisy bit her cheek as she refused to look at his beautiful face and instead stared at his somehow attractive feet. His calves were shapely and dusted with fine golden hair. Something tugged low in her belly, and she squeezed her thighs together.

She licked her dry lips. “And now?”

“You’ll have to lift my foot, and I’ll push against your hand. We’ll repeat that exercise a few times and go from there.”

She was going to touch him again. Daisy drew in a slow breath to calm her nerves.

The racing thumping in her ears did not relent as she shuffled closer to him and scooped up his ankle, trying to appear cavalier.

She swallowed as she lifted his foot to her midsection and braced her other palm against the sole.

When she peeked at him, the sight of his glistening brow and tense expression caught her off guard. She almost dropped his foot.

“Does this hurt?”

“My muscles are too tight. The pulling behind my knee feels like I’m being sliced open.”

“Should we stop?”

“No, keep holding it like that. It’s a good stretch. It’s already feeling a little better.”

Daisy adjusted her hold. The feel of his warm skin under her hands sent a shiver down her spine.

They were alone on a bed, and she was touching him.

This was her first intimate encounter with a man, whether it was intentional or not.

Though it was not even remotely romantic, it was still deeply personal and scandalous.

She was doing something good to help him, but it felt like trouble. Big trouble.