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He kissed her—hard. “Very well. If you’ll marry me, I will ravish you.” He decisively set aside her hands. “But, for once, let me take the lead.”

She stared as he pulled his coat the rest of the way off. Now capable of full motion, he lifted her up and turned them both around.

She let out a yelp when he set her on her feet, and he brought his mouth over hers before she’d fully found her balance. His hands, clamped around her waist, left her completely at his mercy. This time there was no shudder of unease, only a deep and quiet thrill.

“By all means, take the lead,” she said. “But I’m going to help.”

He advanced one foot, then the other, gradually herding her backward toward the bed. She allowed his powerful presence to sweep her along while she undid his waistcoat buttons.

“This would be easier if your shoulders weren’t so broad.” She assessed them. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

A guttural, reluctant rumble of laughter rippled the flesh beneath her fingers. “Minx.”

Her satisfied smile spread across her lips and filled her heart. She would forever crave his laughter, along with the nickname Minx, spoken with a touch of bewildered surprise.

“I take it you want this off, too?” He indicated his waistcoat.

“If you would be so kind,” she replied.

He pulled the garment off his shoulders and down his arms.

Gentlemen kept their shirts hidden underneath so many layers, she rarely had the chance to admire one up close. His was fine lawn, snowy white with just a touch of old-fashioned lace at the cuff. She appreciated the care he’d taken, but how many layers did she have to go through?

She gasped as an alarming idea surfaced—was he presently in a man-shift?

“Problem?” He took another step forward.

She tried to move away, but the backs of her legs hit the bed, and with an involuntary oomph, she sat.

“Worn out already?”

She lifted her chin. “I had a mind to sit.”

A devilish glint appeared in his eyes. “An edifying angle.”

Indeed. His hips were at eye level.

“Don’t look there.” He cupped her chin and brushed his thumb along her cheek as he tilted up her face. “You’re playing with fire.”

She cocked a brow. She’d look wherever she pleased, thank you. Then again, he’d a glint in his eye she didn’t quite trust.

“If you prefer me to keep my eyes elsewhere”—she edged backward on the bed—“you had better join me at once.”

“Intriguing offer.” The bed groaned as he sank one knee into the mattress. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She peeked at his falls. From the way the fabric bunched, she suspected he’d developed a condition like the one he’d had that day at the pond. Exciting.

And slightly daunting, too.

The room grew mildly cool once the door shut, yet warmth persisted. He was the radiant source. Would he be uncomfortable if she removed his shirt?

“Why not?” he asked, correctly reading her face.

With a smile, she yanked his shirt. And yanked. And yanked again.

“How much fabric does this shirt have?”

“A surfeit. Enough, in fact, to serve as my, ah”—he chuckled—“man shift.”