Glory pushed herself ungraciously to a sitting position. “I was, um, just trying out the cushions.”
“How odd.” Aunt Hypatia frowned. “Are you certain you’re well? Your cheeks are rather flushed.”
“I’m fine,” Glory bit out. “And ready to start my lesson with Mr. Chen.”
“Carry on, then,” Aunt Patty said. “I daresay my presence isn’t required. We’ll leave the door open, and I shall be across the hall in the library if you need me.”
Hallelujah.
Although Fi had said to let a gentleman come to her, Glory couldn’t wait. The moment her aunt departed, she jumped to her feet and met Mr. Chen halfway.
Seeing the smile in his eyes, she was suddenly tongue-tied.
“Good morning, Shifu,” she said shyly.
“Good morning, my lady.” His gaze dropped lower, below her face, and he cleared his throat. “Are you, er, ready for a lesson?”
The promise of learning martial arts took some of the edge off her nerves.
“I jolly well am,” she said eagerly. “What are we starting with? Lightness kung fu?”
“Actually, I thought we would start with this.”
Mr. Chen removed a cloth-bound book from the satchel he carried.
She knitted her brows. “We’re…reading?”
“Before one can run, one must walk. I have taken the liberty of translating my shifu’s fundamental precepts for us to review. He compiled them based on the works of great philosophers. They are the basis of his training and what I plan to teach you.”
Striding to the writing table, he held out the chair. Sighing, she went over and sat. He placed the book in front of her, and she immediately leafed through to the end.
“It must have taken you a while.” She peered at him, wide-eyed. “To translate one hundred precepts.”
“It was a worthwhile exercise,” he said blandly. “One can never review the fundamentals too often. Let us begin with the first precept: Patience is the key to knowledge. Without patience, there is no learning…”
Around precept number twenty-eight, Glory started squirming in her seat.
It wasn’t that the lesson was boring…all right, it was a bit boring, especially when she’d been expecting to learn how to scale walls and outrun pursuers. But reviewing the text didn’t bother her as much as Mr. Chen’s presence did. And by bother, she meant that she had difficulty keeping her mind on the lesson and off him.
He paced in front of the desk as he lectured. She loved how knowledgeable and intelligent he was; was there anything the man did not do well? He, himself, must have been a first-rate pupil. He did not need to consult the book, seeming to know everything by heart, and when she had a question, he answered thoughtfully, a crease of concentration between his brows. He looked serious, stern, and cerebral…
And so dashingly attractive. Her heart sighed.
“Humility is the basis of learning. Now, what do you suppose Shifu Lam means by that?”
She forced herself to focus. “Um, knowing what one knows and admitting what one doesn’t know is how one learns?”
“An excellent answer.”
His approval made her toes curl in her shoes.
“My shifu likes to say that the most profound knowledge is self-knowledge.” Master Chen rapped his knuckles against the desk to emphasize the importance of this point.
As he continued to pontificate on the inherent virtue of seeking knowledge, he trailed his long fingers idly along the table. Back and forth, back and forth. Glory found herself mesmerized by his hand. The back was tanned and veined, rippling with tendons. She saw calluses on his fingertips and palms, badges of an active man. A warrior and a healer.
Strong and capable, his hands told the story of the man himself. Recalling the feel of them cupping her face, the way he’d held her steady for his kiss, she became aware of a needy throb between her legs. Flushing, she realized how damp she’d become there. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to quell the ache. She reminded herself that her aunt was just across the hall—could come in at any moment.
It didn’t help that Mr. Chen continued to trail his fingers along the table. Caressing the wood the way he might a…a lover. She imagined him touching her, and the tips of her breasts pulsed beneath her bodice. What would his hands feel like there, cupping her bosoms, touching the straining peaks? Would he touch her like a healer, soothing the ache of her nipples with gentle strokes? Or like a warrior, capturing those needy points between his fingers and demanding her surrender…
