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Her lips tightened.
“I was wrong.” He gazed deeply into her eyes. “And when I saw how I hurt you—how I scared you—everything changed. I don’t ever want to hurt you again, and I don’t want you to fear me. Just the opposite, in fact. I want to protect you.”
She whimpered.
Did that mean she was yielding? “In the maze, you accused me of being rabbit-skittish. You were right. I was skittish. Skittish because you stirred overwhelming desires in me.”
She turned her face to the side.
“You make me want decent things. Like peace.” Peace he wasn’t sure was possible. Briefly, he cast his gaze out the window to Asquith House’s dormered roof. For the first time in years, he wanted to abandon the Albany. “Like home.”
He glanced back. Her features had softened. She leaned toward him, looking as if she craved more.
He’d give her more. “You made me want indecent things, too.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then moved from him to the bed and then back.
“Shall I explain?”
Her lips drew inward, her breath caught in her chest, and a slow, almost hypnotic nod followed.
“In the maze, you lifted your dress and showed me your shift. Do you remember?”
She nodded again.
“Ever since, I’ve imagined you lifting your dress for me again.”
She fisted her hands into her skirt, consciously or not, he wasn’t sure.
“Sometimes you lift your dress for me in that maze. Sometimes in my former bedroom in Asquith House. Sometimes here in the stables. Over there on the bed.” He indicated the location with a head tilt. “Only higher. Much, much higher.”
She glanced down to her feet and back. Her eyes asked for more.
“Sometimes,” he said, “I picture you in your chemise alone. Those times, I long to touch you gently through the sheer fabric, and then whisk the fabric away to behold you as you saw me.” He dropped his voice to a rumble. “Completely bare.”
Her shoulders dropped as she collapsed against the door jamb.
“Poor support, my darling. At least compared to me.” He held out his hand. “Come, Lenora. You want me. You’ve wanted me from the start. And, by offering myself to you,” he rephrased her words. “I’m only complying with your wishes.”
“I know,” she whispered.
She pushed herself off the wall. A flicker of doubt crossed her face.
She swiveled away, shut the door, and fastened the latch. With head bowed, she splayed her hands against the wooden panels.
Her posture, combined with what he'd already imagined, magnified his indecent thoughts. He could envision stealing up behind her, threading his arms around her waist, drawing her back against his body.
Blood pounded in his ears as he imagined her yielding to his touch. His throat felt tight and dry.
He could kiss her neck, lift her dress, and...
He closed his eyes.
No. He would not press himself up against his future wife. Not when she had no words for what she would experience. And he certainly refused to begin her carnal education against a door in his stable.
“Lenora?”
She turned back toward him, tucked both hands behind her back, and angled her head with a slight, downward tilt. She studied him with a hot gaze as if her lashes could hide her own indecent thoughts.
