Last time, the change had been sudden, just a burst of light she hadn’t expected, and when she’d finished blinking away the sparks, her husband had been a horse.
Now that horse stood there sleeping, his sleek coat shining in the last rays of sunlight. It seemed incredible that those slender legs could carry the entire body, and not just carry, but run and jump and prance. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Lord Dudley that his son was a magnificent beast. If only he could control it. Well, it was fortunate he’d married her, as she knew quite a lot about E?ians. If anyone could help him learn to govern his gift, it was Jane. And her books.
Then it happened. Light flared and the sleeping horse became a sleeping man, lying naked on the floor.
His eyelids fluttered and his nose wrinkled at the stench of his own manure. Jane leaned over the side of the bed and lowered his trousers in front of his face.
“Thank you, Billingsly.” His voice was groggy.
“You’re welcome.”
Gifford’s eyes went wide as he snatched the trousers and shoved the wad of fabric over his nether region. Jane sat back on the bed while her husband scrambled to his feet.
“My lady, please! I am indecent.”
“You are,” Jane agreed. “Not to mention the fact that you are also unclothed.” She slipped off the opposite side of the bed, away from him and his nudity, but also away from the pile of unfortunate smells. “Is there a reason, Gifford, that you didn’t tell me about your condition?”
“Please call me G.” He adjusted his grip on the trousers, letting the legs hang in front of him as though he were wearing them. Almost. “Everyone calls me G.”
“I’ve never heard anyone call you G. Besides Billingsly, but he is a servant. He would call you Josephina if you ordered. Anyway, you haven’t given me an answer as to why I spent my wedding night attending an ale-stinking sot, and the morning after sharing a bedchamber with a horse.”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .”
“I’m sorry, but how would you put it?” She refused to grin, even though his discomfort was delicious. After the utter mortification of earlier, both with Lord Dudley and the guards, she reveled in this feeling of power over him. It was about time something went her way.
“I would say you spent our wedding night with a charmingly tipsy gentleman who was hesitant to pressure an obviously virtuous lady to rush into . . .”
Oh. That.
Jane blushed and glanced out the window toward the busy street. She chose a passing cart full of apples to find fascinating, but it was quickly gone.
“And as for the equestrian awakening, I fail to see a downside.”
“You mean the thing no one warned me about? It seems like a subject that might come up. For example, ‘Oh by the way, your future husband changes into a horse as soon as the sun rises every morning.’”
He shrugged.
“Do you even try to control it?”
“It’s a curse, my lady. Controlling it would defeat the purpose.”
“And what is the purpose?” Perhaps if she knew the nature of it, she could better help him solve this pesky problem.
“I don’t know.”
“Gifford, you never get to see the light of day.” Yet he failed to see a downside. “I fail to see an upside, except for the possibility that I will one day need a quick escape, in which case it will be useful to have a fast horse.”
Gifford grunted. “There will be no riding the horse! In fact, I believe this is an opportune time to set some ground rules for this marriage.”
“Like what? Hay preferences?”
“Number one.” He went to tick off the number on his forefinger and subsequently dropped the trousers. She took a moment to admire the ceiling. Then Gifford retrieved his trousers and continued without the visual aid. “Number one: there will be no riding the horse. Number two: there will be no bridling the horse. Number three: there will be no saddling the horse.”
“Well, then what is the point of owning a horse?”
“You do not own me!” He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “My lady, would you mind exiting the bedchamber while I dress?”
She tilted her head. “No, I don’t think I will, because I have a few rules of my own.”
He slumped a little. “All right.”
“Number one: no touching my books. Number two: no chewing on my books.”
He snorted indignantly. “I would never chew on your books.”
“You ate my bridal bouquet.”
He looked surprised, as though he’d forgotten. Then he nodded. “So I did. Continue.”
“Number three: I will never find hay in my books.”
“Do all of your rules pertain to books? I suppose I understand why, since your social shortcomings mean books are your closest friends.” He momentarily seemed taken aback at his own rudeness.
Jane narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure your true E?ian form isn’t a jackass?”
“Very funny, my lady. And that reminds me”—he pointed a finger at her—“no horse jokes.”