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She closed the door very quietly behind her.
MELISANDE HEARD A muttered curse followed by a sharp bark as she left the dining room. She smiled. No doubt Vale had forgotten Mouse’s leash tied to his wrist. She mounted the stairs quickly, not looking back. She could feel the beat of her pulse, was aware that he would be following her. The thought sped her feet as she reached the upper hallway.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind her on the stairs, drawing swiftly closer. He must be taking the treads two at a time. She reached her bedroom door, her breath coming in short pants of excitement. She pushed through the door into the empty room and ran to the fireplace, where she whirled around.
Vale prowled into the room a moment later.
“What did you do with Mouse?” She struggled to keep her voice even.
“Gave him to a footman.” He locked the door.
“I see.”
He turned back to her and halted, his head cocked. He seemed to be waiting for her move.
Melisande inhaled and glided forward. “He sleeps with me usually, you know.”
She grasped the edges of his coat and drew them apart, urging it from his arms.
“In this room?”
“In my bed.” She laid his coat carefully on a chair.
“Ah. Indeed.” His eyebrows were drawn together as if he were puzzling something out.
“Indeed,” she repeated softly. She pulled loose hi Sullfons neck cloth and laid it on the coat. Her hands shook as if she had a palsy.
“In the bed.”
“Yes.” She unbuttoned his waistcoat.
He shrugged out of it and dropped it to the floor. She glanced at it and decided to leave it. She began working on his shirt.
“I would think . . .” He trailed away, seeming to lose his train of thought.
She drew his shirt off over his head and looked at him. “Yes?”
He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should sit down.”
“Why?” She wasn’t about to let this go the way of their wedding night. She laid her fingertips on his chest and traced down lightly over his stomach, reveling in the freedom to touch his bare skin.
He sucked in his belly in reaction. “Ah . . .”
She reached his breeches and found the buttons.
“Slow.”
“You think we should slow down?” she asked gently. She slipped buttons through their holes.
“Well . . .”
“Yes?” The flap of his breeches sagged open.
“Ah . . .”
“Or no?” She slid her hand into his smallclothes and found him hard and heavy, waiting just for her. Warmth pooled at her center in anticipation. She’d have him tonight—have him the way she wanted.
He closed his eyes as if in agony and said quite distinctly, “No.”
