Page 36 of Eloping With The Princess
She closed her eyes. “This isn’t what a princess would do, is it?” She dropped the rag onto the floor, then sat back on her heels.
“No, nor a viscountess.” He stood and helped her to her feet.
“It’s only that I’m used to leading a more physical lifestyle.” She wiped her hands against her skirts as she spoke. “I asked about taking a walk the other day, but was told I could not do so alone.” She shook her head. “This is simply not how I imagined my life would be. I expected to be surrounded by children and running about. At school when I was frustrated or angry, I would clean. The work—”
“Took your mind off things, allowed you to concentrate on only the movement of your muscles,” he said. He watched her eyes widen. He’d been so selfish thinking only of himself and how this impromptu marriage was affecting and testing him.
She took a step closer. “Yes,” she said, her voice faint with awe. “That’s it precisely, but how did you…” She shook her head as her words faded.
“I do the same.” He knew that he wasn’t alone in such a process, but he’d not expected it from a woman. He also recognized that this was his fault. He’d put her in a position where frustration ate at her so much that she’d resorted to scrubbing the floors. Few people had seen his private retreat. Normally he did not share his sanctuary with anyone save his closest of friends, and he’d certainly not intended to share it with her. But considering his options, it was the lesser of two bad scenarios. He couldn’t make love to her, but he could invite her into his private sanctum. It seemed that, as his wife, she certainly had a right to know more about his life.
“Come, I want to show you something.”
They did not speak as they climbed the stairs. Isabel, impressively enough, did not seem the least bit winded when they reached the top floor. This room had been nothing but a large storage space when he’d inherited the house. He’d begun work on the area almost immediately, and now he affectionately referred to it as his strategy room. His valet, Ricks, walked over to them.
“Will you be needing anything else, my lord?”
“No, that will be all, Ricks, thank you.”
Ricks said nothing, but he gave Jason a look that said plenty. Only Ricks would recognize the weight of Jason sharing this room with someone outside of the Brotherhood or his staff. Jason knew that he’d likely pay for this in the future, but for now he shoved off the thought. She required a physical outlet, and this would provide her one that wouldn’t have the staff interrupting him every hour of the day.
“What is this place?”
“My duties with the Brotherhood require a certain amount of agility and athleticism. I prefer to work on such things here in my own home,” he said. “Although plenty of gentlemen do the same sorts of things in their clubs. Boxing and fencing and the like.”
Appreciation lit her eyes as they went from one area to another. He’d worked hard on this room, and to have someone recognize that meant something to him.
“I’ve lined the floors with thin mattresses and then blankets to give it more spring. It makes some of the tasks easier, and if you fall, it’s less painful,” he said. He pointed to the rope hanging from the rafters in the right corner of the room, knots dotting the long strand. “Excellent for climbing practice and getting your arms nice and fatigued.”
“This is amazing.” She stepped forward. “What is that for?” she asked, pointing to the roped-off area with the extra-padded flooring.
“Fighting and boxing.” He stretched his jaw, rubbing at the spot where Ricks had punched him.
“And this?” She had moved over to the fencing area.
He followed her. “That is why I brought you up here. I thought we could have a lesson.”
“A lesson?”
He handed her a foil and a vest. “Put this on over your dress. It will give you some measure of protection.”
“Fencing?” she asked.
“I can’t very well teach you to box.”
She grinned broadly, and the sheer joy emanating from her seemed to slide over to him, wrapping him in the warmest of sensations.
He held out a large pillar candle, and the flame flickered between them. “Dip the tip of your foil into the wax a few times to build up a blunt end. I’d prefer you not puncture one of my lungs on our first go-around.”
While she did what he asked, he stepped behind her and tied her vest in place. “You said you cleaned at the school,” he said. “Was that out of requirement or choice?”
“Mostly choice,” she said. “I found that after a day of physical exertion, I slept much better.”
He’d never met anyone who sought exercise the way he did, especially a woman. Most were ruffled if they had to walk too far in Hyde Park. Although he didn’t often speak of such things, he’d never seen any of the other men in the Brotherhood devote themselves to physical exertion, except at their clubs when they drank too much and settled things with a good box. His own brother was perfectly content with a book or ledger to occupy his mind.
“Now then, fencing is the most precise type of swordplay. It is more about lunging and striking. It is as much about your mind as it is about your body.” He positioned himself in a starting lunge pose. “Start this way. Then as you shuffle toward me, I shuffle backward, and then we switch.”
“It is very civilized.”
