Chapter Twenty-Seven
Perhaps it was customary to feel wonderful for a long while after making love, because everything about Franny’s morning brought her joy.
When she arrived at Greenpark House, Papa was sitting in the drawing room, his cheeks a healthy hue, drinking coffee with the Davenports.
Despite Lady Davenport’s protests, Papa insisted he was ready to return to his normal activities.
A compromise was settled upon; Papa would stay one more night and then go home tomorrow.
Even though Harry had greatly improved over the past twenty-four hours, he had not recovered enough to leave the Davenports.
When Franny entered his room, he was smiling at Grace, the chambermaid who sat beside his bed, coquettishly fluttering her lashes.
Once he was strong enough to walk, Franny would suggest he invite the infatuated girl to promenade in the park with him.
Just as Franny and Edward prepared to leave, Josie and Nicolas entered the foyer.
The perfect timing gave the four of them a chance to talk.
Luckily, Josie agreed that it was time to reopen The Silk Knuckles.
She and Nicolas had already tidied up and aired out the gymnasium, so there was little for Franny and Edward to do, which meant they could spend the afternoon exercising.
Nicolas and Josie agreed to contact young Sky Johnston to ask him to get the word out to their regulars.
Once they left Greenpark House, the newlyweds were going home to ensure that Nicolas’s sister, Bridget, hadn’t ensconced herself in trouble during their absence.
Franny would wager that the bluestocking had not only found trouble but had also instigated it.
In the evening, Josie was to meet Franny at The Silk Knuckles, where hopefully, they would have a gymnasium full of eager students and athletes.
It was almost noon when, feeling positively giddy, Franny pushed the heavy door of her gymnasium open and breathed in the smoke-free air. Edward followed her into the center of the room.
She faced him, looked him over from head to toe, and then panicked.
She had no idea how a woman was to act after making love to a man.
Could she kiss him anytime she wanted? Should she wait for him to kiss her?
What kind of woman wanted to charge across a room, knock a man on his arse, and have her way with him?
Apparently, her, for one, hopeless, lustful, sod that she’d become.
Taking in a large breath and exhaling slowly, she centered herself.
She absolutely, positively could not make love to Edward in the middle of her gymnasium.
Firstly, it was indecent, and anyone might come upon them.
Secondly, even though Ruth the Jewel was a charlatan, Franny desperately needed to prepare for their fight.
“Shall we start our training?” Edward asked.
Yes. Right away. Before she did something stupid, like untie his cravat and sniff it.
What in the dickens was wrong with her? Only an insane woman sniffed men’s cravats. Although Edward’s probably smelled like fresh cedar and tempting man.
“First, we shall do calisthenics,” she said, her voice annoyingly squeaky. “One hundred deep knee bends, fifty lunges, fifty squats, and fifty push-ups.”
Edward sent her one of his cunny dampening grins. Damn the man to hell. “Shall we see who finishes first?” he asked.
A contest? How exciting. “Be prepared to lose, Robinson. I will calisthenics your arse off.”
Edward chuckled. “Not if I calisthenic your arse off first.”
It seemed she found competing with a man to be an aphrodisiac, because her nipples tingled.
Enough is enough, Frances Valentine, she scolded herself.
If you don’t concentrate and get yourself mill-ready, Ruth will humiliate you.
Besides, if she didn’t pull herself together, Edward would think her wanton and depraved and want nothing to do with her, unless he found depravity an attractive quality in a woman. “Ugh,” she mumbled under her breath.
A master contortionist, Franny turned her back to him and undid her buttons. She tied her sleeves around her waist, anchoring her dress in place. By the time she faced Edward, he’d removed his cravat, waistcoat, and boots. With his shirt untucked, he resembled a comely privateer.
Averting her eyes from his tempting form, she hopped up and down, windmilling her arms. From her peripheral, she could tell that Edward imitated her. Every few moves, he edged closer to her.
Once her muscles were loose and pliant, she stepped away from him, claiming her own space. Without meeting his gaze, she asked, “Are you ready?”
“Ready, willing, and able,” he said in a deep baritone.
Wait a dashed minute. She was trying to behave, while the bloody fool was trying to drive her wild with desire.
Well, she would not take his bait. With a full body shake, she steeled herself against his sensual energy.
Once she’d made up her mind, nothing and no one, not even a man as tempting as sin, would veer her off course.
“One hundred deep knee bends, fifty alternating lunges, fifty squats, and fifty push-ups,” she repeated.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “Let’s go.”
She settled her feet hip distance apart and squared her shoulders. “Ready? Begin!”
And they were off, counting in unison.
Franny finished her knee bends and called out, “Fifty, at the same time as Edward. She thrust her left leg forward in a deep lunge. Edward mimicked her movement.
Like a galloping herd of horses, their feet hit the ground, creating a steady beat. “…Five. Six. Seven. Eight…” they counted in perfect synch as they lunged.
Since Franny was going as fast as she could, there was nothing she could do to increase her advantage. But she simply couldn’t lose. She was the professional athlete, after all.
“Fifty,” they called at the exact same time.
With her strong as oak thighs, squats were Franny’s favorite exercise, so now was her time to move out ahead of him.
She lowered her body weight into her feet and then drove up through her heels.
“One. Two. Three. Four…” she said as she panted.
At this point, it took effort to breathe in and out while counting out loud.
How unfair that Edward kept pace with her. She performed this routine at least once, sometimes two or three times a day. She should be winning.
Her breathing became more labored and sweat dripped down her forehead. As soon as she completed her last squat, she dropped onto her belly and balanced on her palms and toes.
Edward landed on the floor at the same time as her. His face inches from hers, his forehead coated in sweat, he smiled.
She growled and lowered her body until her chest almost touched the ground. Keeping her elbows at a forty-five-degree angle, she pushed away from the floor. “One,” she called out at the same time as Edward. Thereupon, she made the unfortunate error of meeting Edward’s gaze.
The fool lifted a palm high and did a one-armed push-up. “Two.” He smirked.
Franny hissed out, “Two.”
Once they reached twenty-five, Edward clapped between his push-ups. Lord help his arrogant arse when they sparred, because she would unleash the fury of a thousand soldiers on him.
“Fifty,” they both called as they dropped onto their bellies. The floor cooled Franny’s heated cheek.
“Tie!” Edward stood and extended his hand.
Ignoring his offer, she climbed onto her feet, rested her hands on her hips, and glared at the far wall.
“What’s next?” he asked.
After she caught her breath, she chuckled. Now that she’d accepted her fate, she found it titillating that he’d kept up with her. Actually, he’d bested her, since he had performed fancy push-ups worthy of a circus routine. “Rope skipping,” she said.
“How long are we skipping for?” he asked.
“How about another contest? The first person to make two hundred successful jumps wins.” There was no way he would beat her at this. She was the unofficial rope skipping champion of the gymnasium. No one could outskip her. Not even Josie or the male champions Papa coached.
“Prize for the winner?” he asked.
She tapped her finger to her cheek as she pondered what she truly wanted the most in the world. She couldn’t ask for him to use his mouth on her cunny again, could she? Her cheeks heated until she thought she might incinerate from a combination of want and embarrassment.
She shrugged. “Glory.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Glory?”
“Take it or leave it,” she said with a feigned nonchalant shrug.
“Glory.” He held out his hand to shake on their deal.
If she touched him, she would melt all over the gymnasium floor, so she bypassed his hand and approached the equipment wall. She easily found her favorite rope.
Edward took his time finding the center of a few ropes, stepping onto them, and measuring where they came to on his body. “Perfect,” he said at last.
“Do you see how the end is marked with a blue dot?” Franny pointed at it. “That is how you know which one is the proper length for you in the future.”
“Does that mean I will be invited back?” He winked.
Again, she shrugged. “I suppose that depends on how much you annoy me today.” She pushed past him and situated herself in the center of the room. To her surprise, Edward did not follow her.
She faced him to see what had held him up. He stood staring at the rope in his hand, his eyes wide in what looked like horror. He looked up, met her gaze, and even from this distance, she was certain his cheeks turned scarlet.
She didn’t take him as a sentimental ninny who’d be hurt by a joke. Still, she apologized. “Of course, you will be invited back. I was teasing.”
He blinked half a dozen times.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Don’t you know how to skip rope?
“Oh, I know how to skip rope,” he said, his voice so raw and raspy, it landed in her cunny.
“Then, what is the problem? Are you afraid I will beat you?” she taunted.
“That’s not what I am afraid of.” His throaty voice was both unsettling and arousing. He wrapped the rope around his hands, and then his shoulders slumped forward. His gaze scorching, he stalked toward her. He halted in front of her, looking shockingly predatory.
Her heart beat against her ribcage. Both afraid and aroused, she swallowed.
His lids hung heavy over his eyes. “Are you ready?” he asked.
To be whipped? To be chased down and tied up? To jump over a rope two hundred times?
Surely, he meant the latter. “Yes,” she squeaked out, her heart pounding. “May the best skipper win.”