Chapter 103

How to Tame My Beastly Husband — Chapter 103. Love Makes Him Clumsy (1)

After that, they were quiet. Annette and Arjen could easily pretend that they had never had such a conversation, and after receiving such a splendid gift, Raphael treated both guests very warmly. Not just to please Annette, but because he himself wanted to.

The moment he had some time to spare, he and Claire both headed straight to his training yard, carrying his new sword in hand. They both slept like stones every night after so much exertion during the day, and the moment they woke up, they went straight to the dining room to satiate their ravenous appetite.

They did not even have to speak to each other. The moment they met, one would ask the question in a single glance.

Shall we have another duel?

The answer was always the same, no matter who had asked.

What’s wrong with ten duels?

Once they finished devouring massive quantities of protein, they immediately went back to the training yard. Their passion was tremendous.

Annette was observing firsthand two soulmates, whose other half was a sword.

Watching them go, Arjen sat back and crossed his legs.

“My God. My wife is manhandling your husband.”

“You mean that bruise?” Annette asked, recalling the slight bruise Raphael had had near his temple the night before. It looked like it was caused by an elbow rather than a punch, but this was not a significant distinction.

“Why doesn’t Bavaria have a swordsman gene?” Arjen wondered, toying idly with the glass of milk in his fingers. “A prestigious family with such a long history, and not one famous swordsman in the lineage.”

“Yes. Probably because we are lacking the build for it,” Annette remarked, cocking her head as she looked at her brother. The Bavaria family tended toward a thin, elegant physique. It made them perfect figures to be dressed in magnificent clothes at society events, but that was it. The men of Bavaria did learn basic skills with a sword when they were young, as part of their education. But generally these produced poor results for the amount of time invested.

Or, more bluntly, they had no gift for it. More of them had Arjen’s talent for ruling, as high officials in government.

“Why don’t we go out, too,” said Arjen, rising from his chair and turning to look at Annette. “The weather is so nice, it will be good to have tea outdoors, and we can amuse ourselves by watching the gladiators.”

Annette nodded cheerfully, hurrying upstairs to fetch some books. It was a given that Arjen would bring some work with him. He was likely to work himself to death.

The light purple shadows under his eyes showed no signs of fading, and even the spider on his cheek looked a little dull. Just as he had said, the higher one rose, the more arrows came flying at him. In his case, many of those arrows were made of paper.

Meanwhile, unlike the placid morning tea of the Bavaria siblings, the situation in the training yard was a bit more volatile.

“I’m on fire today,” Claire said, stamping her feet approvingly on the dry ground. “The weather is perfect!”

Normally, Raphael would have responded with equal bravado, but at the moment, he was distracted. And trying to hide it, Claire noted.

“What’s the matter? Are you nervous to have people watching?” Claire asked, straightening up with her hands on her hips and a provocative grin. Raphael flashed her a look of disgust, as if this were the most ridiculous nonsense he had ever heard, but his bright blue eyes still kept flicking in the direction of the grassy area outside the training yard.

Toward Annette.

“Look at this! Isn’t that silly, you care about your wife, but you don’t want her to know it? Shall we begin?”

“Whenever you’re ready to do more than talk.”

Claire smiled like a fox. Provoked by that expression, Raphael drew his sword. She looked like she was up to something. But Claire swung immediately, as if she had just been waiting, and after several parries, Raphael’s eyes turned cold.

Raphael was always enthralled by the moment when he completely lost himself to his sword. All his senses felt sharpened. All noises and distractions around him faded away, and the only thing in the world was the opponent in front of him. There was her breathing, the angle of her sword, the movement of her body. Raphael lost all sense of time as he focused on these things.

There was no need to speak as their swords clashed together. Both of them had dedicated their lives to the blade. But there was one thing about Claire that Raphael had not yet learned.

She liked to talk, when there was an audience.

“You’re not yourself today,” she jeered. “Your footwork is slow and look at that, you telegraphed that swing a mile away. Are you nervous or something? Hmm?”

The sharp edge of her sword flashed toward him, and he immediately swung downward to block it, sparks flying between the clashing blades. Her face moved close to his as she put her weight behind her sword, her green eyes examining him almost suspiciously.

He hadn’t the foggiest idea what she was thinking, but he didn’t like the way she was eying him. For a moment, Raphael frowned and considered walking away altogether.

“You tell me the truth,” she whispered. “Do you love Annette?”