Page 43 of Romanced By the Orc

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—shecould 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 itstraightaway. 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 impressivemuscles 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!”

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