A blush spread pleasingly across her decolletage.
“This one might interest you.” He reached over around her and slid out a copy ofMemoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, better known asFanny Hill.
She opened the book to a page she’d chosen at random. The passage described a young man’s anatomy, “…that storebag of nature’s prime sweets, which is so pleasingly attached to its conduit pipe from which we receive them along.”
She slammed the book shut, shoved it back on the shelf, and then clamped her hand over her mouth.
Uh-oh.
Perhaps the vault had been too much for her sensibilities. Perhapsbringing her here had been foolish. She was trembling.
“N-n-nature’s p-p-prime s-s-sweets.” She broke out into a fit of giggles. “Not just prime, but p-p-pleasingly attached!”
He closed his eyes and exhaled. Laughter was much better than mortification. And a welcome change from both the tension in their earlier confrontation and his rumination over his mistakes.
Then he chuckled, too. “Don’t forget the pipe.”
“Theconduitpipe.” She turned in his arms and placed her head against his shoulder. “Oh, Harbury. Thathadto have been written by a man.”
“What’s this?” He drew back in mock shock. “You don’t find my sweets pleasing?”
Her giggles erupted anew, causing him to wrap her close.
“I thought,” he said wryly, “only adolescent boys found exaggerated anatomical descriptions amusing.”
“I apologize.” She wiped beneath her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Apology accepted.” He approximated a solemn expression. “That is, as long as you take the state of my pipe into serious consideration.”
“Oh,” she said with mock solemnity, “I promise I will.”
That the same lady who had been mortified on their first night together could laugh and tease him now deepened his affection. She was open. She was brave. And, apparently, underneath her prim exterior, she had a rollicking sense of humor.
His grandfather would have loved her.
She retrieved another book. This one had pictures. She held the book at arm’s length, twisted it sideways, and then upside down. “Is this…pleasurable?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he answered honestly.
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.
“We could try it, however,” he added suggestively.
She put her hands on her hips “Is this why you brought me here?”
“No,” he said sincerely. Not that he’d mind a little joint research. “I wanted to show you something special. Something…private.”
“Private indeed.” She turned the page. “Oh!” she gasped. “Ohhh. What’sthis…?”
“Mmm,” he hummed as he observed. “Looks interesting.”
“Would you be willing to try this one, too?”
He groaned. “Most certainly.”
“Now?” she suggested.
The books, the pictures, the confined space, the scent of her obvious arousal—they worked together, weaving an erotic spell that replaced his anxious thoughts.
