Page 44 of Romanced By the Orc

“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.

HerAlbie.

“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.”

She thought of Izzie’s schedule for the morning, the tactful trip to the apothecary to fetch what Diana needed to prevent worries over any unwanted outcomes of intimacy with Albie.

“This evening, I should be well disposed to more agreeable mischief.”

Rose petals were strewn along the lush rugs and the burgundy coverlet, while a lone rose rested at the foot of Albie’s bed. Daisies and other fresh spring flowers spilled over from various vases, perfuming the room. A bottle of sparkling wine, delicate biscuits, confections, and two crystal flutes were propped on the mahogany side table.

And the pessary she had inserted earlier, successfully after several unproductive attempts, was hardly perceptible. The device bolstered her confidence.

She could scarcely draw her eyes away from the canopied bed, which looked sensual, if imposing, with its solid frame upheld by thickset posts at head and foot. Drapes, matching the burgundy of the coverlet and lush and velvety to her touch, hung from the tester, tied back with golden silk cords so they could easily hop onto the sturdy mattress.

Diana had never fainted in her life, but the thought of what would happen next made the very center of her body, her womanhood, throb with anticipation and longing.

Albion leaned back against the massive pillows propped on his bed, shirt off, and her mind wandered to the rest of him, to what awaited her when she joined him underneath the warm blankets.

“Turn for me, my Daisy,” he said gruffly. “Your beauty is unparalleled. I must see the entirety of your figure.”

“You have provided me with beautiful things… ”

“You would look as elegant in the simplest shift. But please turn.”

Her déshabillé made her shy, the sheer lace of her new night rail markedly different from the modest cotton she had worn to bed at home. Yet she only smiled, dipping her head modestly as she approached him.

She turned. Between her husband’s intense stare and her own mounting desire, she thought the night rail would dissolve and fall from her body.

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