Chapter Fourteen #3
“Then you are an important man,” she said. “I had no idea I married a fighting scholar.”
He grinned. “Every man has his strength,” he said. “Some men’s strength is their brute power in battle. For some, it is tactics or warfare. Still others are diplomats and masters at negotiation. For me, it is the law.”
“Do you plan to return to London?”
“At some point,” he said. “I am valuable to Henry, and he pays me well. Service to the king guarantees me a reward at some point—lands, titles, that kind of thing. Things I should like to pass down to our children.”
Diara produced the slimy white soap that smelled of lavender and lathered up his beard. “You will inherit the Earldom of Cheltenham when my father dies,” she said. “It is a wealthy holding.”
“But that will go to one child, our eldest son, should we have one,” he said. “I hope to have other children with you, and I should like to leave them something. And Adalia and Dorian—they must have dowries.”
“You’re ambitious, then?”
“Not ambitious,” he said. “But I find it necessary to plan. I do not want uncertainty for the future.”
At that point, he held stock-still because she was shaving him. His legs had kicked out at some point, and she was kneeling between them, carefully shaving him as he found her thighs. His hands moved up her legs, cupping her buttocks, and pulling her toward him slowly.
She finally snorted.
“Cease,” she said softly. “You are only half shaved, and I would finish before you have your way with me.”
He was trying not to smile or laugh, trying to remain still while she finished one side of his face before moving to the other.
“Sorry,” he said, barely moving his lips. “I simply cannot help it.”
“You’d better, or I might accidentally slit your throat.”
He remained still after that, his eyes following her as she finished shaving him. Then she washed out the razor and set it aside, using the damp rag to wipe Roi’s face of the remaining soap.
“There,” she said, looking at her handiwork. “You look like a proper lord now.”
His big hands completely covered both buttocks, and he pulled her against him, her naked flesh against his. “You have my thanks, wife,” he said softly, instantly hard and aroused. “Now, it is my turn.”
Diara wound her arms around his neck. “To do what?”
His answer was to slant his mouth over hers, kissing her passionately.
Diara gave herself over to him completely, letting him have his way with her, and he took charge.
His lips moved over her clean skin and to her damp, firm breasts before claiming her lips once more.
The bath was growing cool, and he stood up, still holding her, and carried her over to the bed, where he laid her down atop the coverlet and had his way with her.
Twice.
As they lay there in clean, damp bliss, still wrapped around one another, they began to hear Dorian’s voice as she argued with her sister.
The family chambers were on one level, with Roi and Diara’s chamber being right next to Adalia and Dorian’s.
The walls were thick, made of stone and two feet wide in some places, but the doors weren’t good sound barriers.
Dorian was upset about something, and tangled up in Roi’s arms, Diara sighed heavily.
“Should I see what is amiss?” she asked, her face half pressed into Roi’s chest.
He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to his daughters argue. “Nay,” he said quietly. “I will go.”
“Are you certain?”
He gently let her go and sat up. “Aye,” he said. “They are my daughters. I do not feel as if I’ve been a very good father to them. You’ve helped me to realize that I should pay more attention to them, whether or not you are aware of it.”
Diara sat up beside him. “They do not think you are a bad father,” she said gently, putting her hand on his head in a comforting gesture. “I certainly do not. Your children love you very much.”
He looked at her. “That may be, but I have not been around for them,” he said.
“Watching you with them, seeing how you are with them… They are my family, Deedee. We are all a family. Losing Beckett has made me realize just how important my family is to me. And I want to be a better father to my daughters.”
She smiled at him, and he kissed her before he stood up and went in search of his clothing.
A week ago, Diara had been mortified at the sight of a naked man, but just a short time later, she’d relished it.
The man had a spectacular form. As he pulled on his breeches, she got up from the bed and went to the wardrobe, finding the robe that Dustin had left for her on their wedding night.
She pulled it on, tying the sash around her waist, as Roi pulled on a tunic.
There was a table near one of the windows with a small, polished mirror on it, and she sat in front of the table and picked up a comb, pulling it through her hair just as Roi opened the door to the girls squabbling in the corridor outside.
As she combed her hair, she could hear him trying to negotiate a truce between two girls who hadn’t had much fatherly interaction in their lives.
But Diara smiled faintly as she realized that was about to change.
I want to be a better father to them.
She thought that Adalia and Dorian were lucky girls, indeed.