Page 21 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

One week later

D aisy watched from her chair beside Alston’s bed as Dr. Bradley eased Alston down onto the edge of his bed.

Alston had completed four laps of the distance between his bed and his door with a slight limp after falling and spraining his ankle the day before.

But otherwise, he was looking better every day and putting on weight.

Alston caught her eye and winked. This was all a performance.

They’d been working steadily, strengthening his legs so that walking would no longer be an exhausting feat of will.

He was better, lifting his own legs off the bed with considerably less effort.

Occasionally his left foot cramped, which was what led to the fall.

Dr. Bradley finished his inspection, declared Alston to be improving well, and took his leave. Miss Smith followed him out, receiving instructions from him. Alston pinned Daisy with a stare. The mischief in his eyes meant he had a reckless idea.

“What are you thinking now?” she asked.

“I can do more than four turns about the room. You know I can.” He braced his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed himself up. He’d been doing that too, to strengthen his arms.

“Why don’t you rest? Your ankle is still bruised.”

“I’ve had enough rest for the next decade. You can help me or not.” He straightened, holding his balance well. But still, Daisy came to his side. She hadn’t helped him walk yet, and as she approached him, she realized she would have to be a lot closer to him to do it.

“Don’t be so skittish. I don’t bite.”

He reached for her, his balance wobbling, and Daisy rushed forward to stabilize him.

He held her by the shoulders, and she had her palms on his chest. The warmth of him through the thin shirt shocked her.

She had to tip her head back to meet his gaze, the pale blue not as striking as usual, but softer, more comforting.

She could lose herself in his gaze, forget anything existed outside the two of them.

The more time she spent with him, the harder it became to remember she was engaged to someone else.

Her heart began to pound. Could he hear it this close to her?

“We should walk.” She slipped out of his grasp and under his left arm.

She wrapped her right arm around his back, and she could feel the muscles shifting as he breathed.

His arm settled over her shoulders, the weight surprising her.

His warmth surrounded her, the smell of his linen shirt, and the scent that was just him.

Alston. Being this close to him was like being embraced by him.

Daisy tried to shake herself out of this spell and focus on moving her feet.

She’d seen Miss Smith and Dr. Bradley do this enough to figure it out.

He kept his gaze on her, but didn’t speak, thankfully.

She didn’t have answers to his probing questions—at least no answers that weren’t terribly awkward.

Their first step was more of a shuffle, but then they found a rhythm, and they made an arc around the room from one side of his bed to the other and back again twice more.

“That’s enough,” he said. “Petrov will return soon.”

Daisy led him to his chair by the window, and he lowered himself back down.

Daisy wrung her hands as she turned away.

Being near him like this turned her thoughts and words to mush.

They’d had so much fun this past week, but she couldn’t bear to look at him now.

If he knew how he affected her, he’d be uncomfortable.

Yes, they’d become friends over the course of the week, but Daisy knew that for her it was becoming more.

She was already infatuated with him, but she had not realized that infatuation could become obsession.

He made sly comments and jokes about being better than any man she may ever meet, and she knew he meant them in jest, but it was true—no man of her acquaintance could compare. Especially not Cliffton.

“I think I’ll go lie down. I have a headache.” She spun away from him and bolted toward the door.

“Daisy, please come here,” he said, his tone gentle and pleading.

Daisy turned back toward him. She drew a slow breath and approached. “Yes?”

He held out his hand, palm up. “Give me your hand.”

Warmth spread over her whole body, raising the hairs on her nape, and her heart trembled.

“Why?”

“Please?”

Daisy set her hand in his, and he brought it toward his mouth.

His lips pressed to her knuckles. He never broke eye contact with her, and her whole body went up in flames.

She should have been smoking from her ears.

He lifted his mouth from her hand and stroked his thumb over the spot, like he was rubbing the kiss in.

“Thank you for helping me in secret,” he said.

Daisy bit the inside of her cheek and nodded.

“I am indebted to you. You’ve helped me more that you will ever know.”

Her eyes began to sting.

“That’s all I wanted to say, for now. Go rest for the afternoon. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Daisy smiled her thanks and sheepishly turned back toward the door, measuring her pace so as not to appear as though she were running away. Though she was. Before he noticed the riot of sensation cascading through her body, she needed to escape.

Back in her room, she could breathe again.

She had run the back stairs, huffing like Hesta and her graveyard thief as they haunted each other through the night, never meeting, though sometimes it seemed they were only a breath away from each other.

Daisy knew that once they did meet, their first interaction would be cataclysmic.

The way Alston read those pages, the inflection of his voice, the dramatic pauses, left Daisy breathless, wanting to squirm in her chair.

Daisy wasn’t certain yet, but she thought Alston might be reading one of those novels.

The books her mother had deemed too salacious.

Mrs. Miranda had spotted one when they visited the Wolseleys and tossed it in the hearth, calling it poison to the feminine mind.

But Alston did say that Amelia had read it.

Surely it was fine... or he fully intended to shock her.

Either way, it was working. Whether Hesta and her thief ended up having tea or ended up in each other’s arms, Daisy would swoon.

Alston had built the tension so beautifully that by the last page she’d be nothing but a puddle.

Was there anything more humiliating?

He’d kissed her hand, and she’d felt that kiss low in her body. Sometimes when he looked at her, his eyes would change, the blue turning darker and deeper, holding her captive. This had been one of those times.

This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

Daisy couldn’t bear to be this tulle-headed ninny any longer.

She wanted to feel right in her skin, capable and confident like Amelia, and if there was one thing Amelia never did, it was let her fear stand in her way.

She stood her ground no matter how fierce her opposition was.

She had defied death itself to save her brother.

Daisy wanted just a little of that courage.

Daisy had been practicing good trouble, and so far, the results had been splendid.

Alston’s health was improving swiftly, and most of all, Daisy and Alston were becoming fast friends. Her first male friend.

He was handsome, intelligent, kind, and humorous, even when he wanted to be disagreeable. Alston would never ignore his intended for years and not write a single letter to her. He could never be so cruel and uncaring.

If only . . .

A swift knock presaged Merry’s arrival, freezing the errant thought Daisy was certain would venture too far.

“You’ve received a message, miss.”

Daisy accepted the folded paper, turning it over and praying to see her father’s wax seal, but no. It was a C. Her stomach dropped to her feet.

Daisy sat on the edge of the bed and broke the wax, unfolding the note.

Miss Blakewood,

It disheartens me to know you are surrounded by peers of ill repute.

The situation is far graver than I had hoped.

I cannot be seen at Alston House, but I do request you meet with me at the small park at the corner.

There I will instruct you further. The appointed time will be four o’clock this afternoon. Do not be late.

Octavia Claystone

Four? It was already two! Daisy stood and started to pace. She needed an excuse, an excellent one. A headache? A broken limb? Plague? Anything that would stop Lady Claystone from insisting Daisy leave Alston House. Blast it all, she wasn’t good at being disobedient. She didn’t know how to be.

Amelia! She would know what to do.

“Merry, has Lady Amelia returned?”

“Yes, miss.”

“I’d like to go for a walk in the park with Lady Amelia, if she is agreeable.”

“An excellent idea. The weather is exceptionally pleasant today. Shall I go ask for you?”

Daisy nodded. “Please.”