Chapter 15 #2
Idiotically, her color flared at that subject. “Weeks ago. They are almost due again. Why? Oh.” She stared at him, remembering Elf’s pamphlet. “There’s always risk.”
“Did you not want to cast caution on the flames?”
Air became scarce. She had come here hungry for this, yet feeling safe behind the fact that it was impossible. That it posed too great a risk to her carefully planned life, and his.
“There is no need,” he said against her knuckles. “You can have just what you want. You wanted to see me, I believe?”
He let go of her hand and stood to begin unfastening the cuffs of his shirt.
Diana gaped. He was going to take her literally, and strip? She hadn’t meant that. She hadn’t really thought how they would get from current state to nakedness. As he pulled his shirt out of his breeches, however, she couldn’t bear to stop him.
But it was the first step.
To where? To what?
Could she finally satisfy all her burning curiosity?
Here.
With him?
If it were only curiosity, however, she would not feel this breathless sense of peril. They really shouldn’t. They were playing with truly perilous flames.
Her heart raced so unsteadily she feared she would faint, so she picked up the glass and took a deep drink.
Too deep, so she choked. When she had her breath back, he was laughing, the sort of gentle, warm laughter that friends share.
It melted her, turning her soft as the fat tears of wax sliding down the side of the uneven candle.
Honesty and friendship. Honest embarrassment. Friendly humor. With this man she could permit herself to be exactly what she was. Even uncertain.
Trust. Astonishing trust. She’d never realized how little she allowed herself to trust.
And he, who must live as guarded as she in many ways, was trusting her.
He pulled the shirt up over his head and dropped it. Then he tugged the ribbon off his hair so it fell loose around his face to his naked shoulders.
His broad shoulders.
Did all men look stronger out of their clothes, she wondered, studying him as he paused to allow her to. Paused, perhaps, to allow her to retreat, to run back to her room.
Oh no. She welcomed this fire, even though it could burn her to a crisp.
Dressed, his movements spoke of strength, but here strength was clear in long elegant muscles flaring up to those broad shoulders, and in a subtle ridging of muscle beneath the fine line of dark hair down his chest.
She looked up into his watchful eyes. “You’re beautiful.”
Perhaps there was the tiniest blush as he smiled. “A delusion, but I’m grateful for it. Shall we go on?”
She picked up the abandoned blossom and took strength from the perfume. “Yes, please.”
He sat on the bed to take off his shoes and stockings, then unbuttoned the bands at the bottom of his breeches.
He stood and slowly undid the fastenings at the waist, watching her.
When she made no objection—in truth her mouth was so dry she wasn’t sure she could speak!
—he removed both his lower garments in one.
She knew how men were made. She knew about penises soft and hard.
She even had colored pictures in some of her books.
There was nothing to surprise her here, and yet she turned dizzy at the simple beauty of a naked man in the flesh.
So real. So close. She almost felt able to sense the heat of his body, to inhale the scent of his skin.
A perfect, naked man, partially aroused, and waiting. For her pleasure. “It’s rather unfair,” she said as steadily as she could. “As a standard for your gender, I mean.”
“I assure you, there are many finer made than I.”
“I’m not sure I could bear it.”
When he laughed softly, she put the blossom carefully back into the bowl and stood. “My turn, I suppose.”
“I can give you all you want and more as you are, Diana.”
“Skin to skin,” she reminded him. “Anyway, I want to. It’s a challenge, and I thrive on challenges. You must know that. I just wish I had more layers to play with.”
Standing there unconcernedly naked, he made one of his beautiful gestures, ruby ring flaring by candlelight, inviting her to compete.
With a deep breath, she loosened the coverlet as slowly as she could, letting it slide down her arms to the floor.
Unfortunately, that left her only one garment, her silk shift.
It was a pretty piece covering her to elbow and calf, of fine weave, and delicately embroidered, but she couldn’t think how to draw out its removal.
“If you move a little to the left,” he said, “you will have the candle behind you.”
A glance showed her what he meant, and she moved then spread her arms. “Yes?”
His look was definitely more intense. “Yes.”
She turned, therefore, slowly, raising her hands above her head. When she faced him again, he was intriguingly more erect.
“How revealing men are,” she teased, but when she thought how she might not let him complete the act, it seemed cruel.
“There are ways of dealing with that, without …” She couldn’t say it, damn it. “I mean, I could …” Perdition! Anyway, what an idiot she was. He knew. Of course he knew.
At his raised brow, she muttered, “I have a great many books.”
“I should have guessed. Rid yourself of that garment, wench, and come to bed.” He slid under the covers, then lay there propped on one elbow, revelations concealed.
Come to bed. For some reason she’d not thought of being in bed with him like …
like a married couple. She realized that her books never showed couples in a bed.
On it sometimes, in chairs, on the ground, on cushions, on a swing, in a tree, even on a rocking horse.
But not under the covers of a conventional bed.
There wouldn’t be much to see under the covers of a conventional bed and that was doubtless the reason, but this unexpected twist almost killed her courage. There was so much more to it …
Get on with it.
She grasped the hem of her shift to pull it up over her head.
“Take it off downward,” he said softly. “Show me your breasts first.”
She straightened and looked down. The low neckline had a drawstring. She began to tug it loose, then with a wicked smile, she took three blossoms from the bowl and tucked them there, between her breasts.
Cold water trickled down her belly as she turned back to him, carefully unfastening the tie.
She moved the silk down, letting the blossoms slide lower until they nestled between her naked breasts, which were pushed up by the neckline running tight beneath them.
The darkness of his eyes and the warm perfume made her sway.
“I like this,” she said, meaning the look in his eyes.
“So do I. Come here. Just like that.”