“The obvious choice is Malcolm, for he’s the most handsome. But I confess I’m more partial to Edmund, as he’s the eldest and most responsible. Jasper is too … Jaspery. Frances always goes for Benjamin, though he’s far too young for me to take him seriously. And a horrible singer.” Alexander laughed.
“How practical of you.”
“Now,youmust tell me a secret.”
“Pardon?” The secrets he had—and he had plenty—were not the sort to be whispered in bed to an innocent. He may not have female friends, but he knew that.
“You must share something with me! That’s how these late-night talks go.” She nudged him with her foot, and again his body responded. It was as if his cock had no idea they were practicing friendship.
“Does the butcher have any daughters?” he deadpanned. Harriet laughed loudly, her entire body shaking and her head dropping between her hands.
She turned back on her side to face him, and they both grew quiet at their closeness. After a moment, Harriet flipped onto her back, pulling her hands out of the tightly tucked covers. If he didn’t know her so well, he’d have thought she was settling into sleep. Alexander knew she wasn’t going to miss a chance to talk. She kept her gaze on the ceiling, worrying her bottom lip and fidgeting herhands. Alexander’s heart clenched in preparation for what came next. If Harriet was shy to say something, it must be grave indeed.
“What were you doing last night?” she inquired, in a soft voice, so soft he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. Blood rushed through his ears, and his heart began racing. Surely, she didn’t mean—
“In bed,” she clarified, removing any hope that she might have been referencing something else.
He groaned and sat up, the bedsheet falling around his waist. Some part of his brain registered Harriet’s eager eyes on his chest, which stirred him, even as a cold panic set in.
“I was—It is—What I was—” Alexander was making an ass of himself. He never should have taken himself in hand in the same room, in the same bed as her. And why was he even considering explaining himself?
Her eyes. Her eyes were why. She let out a soft laugh, a friendly one, as she drew circles on the coverlet with her finger.
“Not often you’re at a loss for words in bed with a woman, is it?” She hitched up half of her mouth wryly. Something about the look made him think she was embarrassed, self-conscious, as if she was the problem.Hell. Now he had to tell her.
“No, although most of the women I’ve been with know about tossing off.”
Harriet’s brow furrowed in confusion. Alexander took a deep breath and began. Might as well be honest with her—how else was she to learn? And what a pity it would be to live without knowing how to bring oneself pleasure.
She scooted and sat up in bed, her back against the headboard, ever the eager pupil.
“Do you know anything of intercourse? What happens between a man and woman?” Alexander almost amended that it could happen between any number of people of any sex but felt that was getting off topic. Besides, Harriet was already blushing madly.
“Not really,” she whispered, the blush having traveled from her cheeks down her neck and across her chest. He would dearly like to see where else it spread.
“I see. Well, there’s a … point … at the end of intercourse. A crisis.”
“A crisis?” Harriet looked concerned again.Blast it.
“Or, rather, a peak. A culmination.” Harriet nodded along with him, waiting for more.
Dear God, was he really going to explain self-gratification to a blushing innocent? Apparently so. “This, uh—”
“Apotheosis?” she provided, hurrying him along adorably.
“Thisapotheosis,” he said, trying desperately not to laugh at the suggestion, “well, it feels … blissful. Heavenly. It’s the reason men do half of what they do.”
“Half?”
“True, it’s vastly more than half, come to think of it. We’d hardly be managing land or fighting duels or racing curricles or wearing skin-tight breeches if coming didn’t feel so damned good.”
“But last night—” Harriet began, clearly unsure of how to ask what she wanted to know. “You believed me to be asleep.”
“I did not intend to subject you to my actions; I am sorry.”
“I see,” she said. “Is it always that way? With the woman asleep?” And then Alexanderdidlet out a laugh.
“No, no, the woman isn’t asleep for intercourse at all.”
