Gideon’s palm traveled over the layered fall of her skirts, down along the line of her thigh.
And he felt her.
Not merely the warmth of her body, nor the shape of her under the muslin, but the strength hidden there. The firm, athletic line of a woman who climbed, fought, practiced, refused to resign herself to rest. There was muscle beneath all that softness. Control beneath the tremble.
Christ.
He knew, of course, that she was strong. He had seen her move. Seen the quick precision of her body. But knowing it was one thing.
Feeling it beneath his hand was another entirely.
The firm line of her thigh. The taut, living readiness of her.
Not delicate. Not fragile.
Keeping his eyes locked with hers, Gideon gathered the hem of her skirts inch by inch, watching for any hint that she was uncomfortable.
There was none.
Instead, her breath shivered out, and her knee shifted beneath the fabric—to make room for him.
With his hand cradling the back of her knee, Gideon stilled. “Should I resist you here?” His voice was rough.
“No.” Her voice shook. “Not there.”
His hand slid above her knee, to the edge of her stocking.
“Here?”
“No,” she breathed. “Do not resist me there.”
Pulse slamming, he slid his hand higher. Carefully. Reverently.
Beatrice’s breath came in uneven little pulls.
“Higher.” And then… “Please.”
That was the end of him.
He kissed her again as his fingers brushed the tender place between her thighs, skimming the sweetest, slickest flesh.
Beatrice trembled beneath him.
“You are,” he said, “Irresistible.”
She was warm and wet. Impossibly inviting. The knowledge that she wanted him—wanted this—flooded Gideon with such savage tenderness that he nearly forgot how to breathe.
Her body gave a small, helpless jerk beneath his hand.
“God,” he whispered against her mouth. “Beatrice.”
He touched her again, learning the slick seam of her, the way her breathing changed when his fingers found places that had her clutching at his coat.
But when he tested her entrance, pressing only lightly, he stopped.
Not because she resisted. But because he needed to be sure he never, ever, mistook fear for want.
Gideon lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes.
