Theo lips curved in helpless amusement. “Nor is it… save when I am most cruelly provoked. See what you do to me, Hetty?”
“I have done no such thing.”
“Haven’t you?” Then, with a gentleness that belied the heat beneath, he asked, “Would you like to touch me? Only so you might see I am not nearly so fearsome as you suppose.”
She bestowed upon him a look of equal parts scepticism and ire, but after a muttered oath not entirely fit for a lady, she extended her hand regardless, wrapping her fingers tentatively around him.
An involuntary sound escaped his throat as the warmth of her palm encompassed him. He caught it back at once, tightening his jaw.
“There,” he said at last. “Perfectly manageable.”
She regarded him with parted lips. “It is… rather warm.”
He allowed a breath of laughter to escape. “I am, after all, a living creature.”
Her eyes darted up, and her tone turned sharp with accusation. “You said nothing ofthisin the library.”
Theo forced his composure. “I was occupied, madam, with the far more pressing business of making you moan. And you, if memory serves, were not in any state to receive a lecture on anatomy.”
Her colour rose, though her lips curved with sudden, dangerous mischief. “I see. So you withhold knowledge at your convenience, and I am to be left in ignorance until your lordship deigns to instruct me?”
“Yes.” He set his hands gently at her waist, drawing her nearer across the coverlet. “Allow me to instruct you now. Would you prefer a verbal explanation… or shall I provide a demonstration?”
As he spoke, he placed his hand over hers, guiding it along the length of him. She followed, her blush deepening, though her eyes remained fixed on his face, defiant even in her uncertainty. The sight near undid him; her unstudied touch was more exquisite than any polished caress. His breath had grown uneven, though he made every effort to conceal it. “You see? It is only flesh. Entirely at your mercy. Yours, should you desire it.”
“Hmm,” she said, as she stroked along his length. “If this is what wives must endure, I begin to see why some feign headaches.”
Theo’s bark of laughter was helpless. “You shall be the death of me,” he muttered, before catching her lips in a fervent kiss.
At once her hand faltered, slipping from him as though the kiss had stolen all thought from her. A lesser man might have caught it back, urging her onwards, but Theo did no such thing.
“What is it you wish now?” he asked, his lips a breath away from hers. “Shall I undress you?”
She hesitated, lowering her lashes. “As your wife, I suppose it falls to me to attend to your instruction.” She paused then, long enough to make his very pulse falter, before adding, with a sudden lift of hergaze, “Yet as a woman… I believe I should prefer to be kissed until I can scarcely recall my own name.”
With a low laugh that was half groan, he bent, and kiss her he did, until he thought indeed, she might forget not only her name, but the very hour and place in which she sat.
“I cannot comprehend,” he murmured against her mouth, “how I have passed so many years without kissing you senseless.”
He meant it in body and soul, with a sincerity so profound it stilled all other thought. He kissed her for what felt like hours. Indeed, if London had fallen to ruin that very hour, he would scarcely have noticed.
At long last, he eased her back against the pillows, ever mindful of the ache at his still-healing side. He followed her down, one arm braced, the other slipping to trace the length of her thighs through the fine linen of her shift. She lay soft and yielding beneath him, her shift damp and clinging to the contours of her form. He drew back a fraction, if only to look upon her and see the woman who had undone him with nothing more than a kiss.
“May I?” he asked softly, his hand resting at the hem of her shift.
She looked up at him, wide-eyed and flushed, and gave a breathless nod.
With all the tenderness he could muster, Theo drew the linen over her head, exposing her by slow and reverent degrees. When at last she lay entirely bare beneath him, he could do naught but gaze upon her. “Good God,” he said hoarsely. “You are… entirely beyond me.”
Hetty gave a startled laugh and raised her hands to cover her face. “Do not look at me in that fashion,” she protested from behind her fingers.
“In what fashion?” he asked, gently prying her hands away.
Her blush deepened, the colour spreading most enticingly down her throat and across her breast. “As though I were – oh, I do not know – a statue in some gallery. It quite unnerves me.”
“Well… that is because you have never before had me look upon you as a man looks upon his wife. As the very woman he desires above all else.” His voice was hoarse with feeling. He pressed close, letting his lips graze her temple, and then the curve of her cheek. “You asked me to kiss you until you might forget your own name. There is more than one place a man may kiss his wife.”
Her lips parted. “Theo…”
