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“Why would any woman request that? I simply don’t understand the point of it, except from the point of view of having children, naturally.”

He had discovered a tender curve under her jaw. “Pleasure,” he said rather thickly. “Women can find pleasure in it, Henrietta.”

There was silence for a moment as he kissed his way to the corner of her mouth, little kisses, as light as tiny feathers. Oh, she knew of pleasure, his Henrietta. She simply didn’t realize that she knew. Because when his lips came to hers, teasingly light, she opened the sweetness of her mouth to him without hesitation, proving that she’d been waiting for his kiss. She sighed into his mouth, and her tongue met his. He plunged in, taking possession, turning a groan into a dark possession. And she was with him. She didn’t pull back when he pulled her slender body against him and ran a demanding hand down her back, molding every curve to his hardness. Then he made a demanding undulation against her body, one that spoke of his intention and made clear his dominion.

“Would you mind if we went to bed now, Henrietta?” The question came out half-strangled.

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“Well, no, I wouldn’t mind,” she said in a considering sort of way that told him that she wasn’t yet completely comfortable. In fact, she was still thinking too much. It’s hard to grin when you’re gathering a bundle of fragrant womanhood in your arms, but he managed it.

He put her down on the bed. The first thing that had to go was her braid. Setting free her hair took time though, since her braid went almost to her waist. Darby could see that she was thinking, so he helped her out by standing between her legs so that she had plenty of contact with him.

“You won’t do anything I don’t request?” she said, finally. He raised his head from her braid. He pressed a kiss onto each eyelid. “I promise,” he said huskily. “If you don’t ask me, I won’t do it.”

“I will never ask you to—to—” she stopped, clearly uncertain how to convey the idea of intercourse.

“I understand. But just in case you do ask, have you brought the sheath that Esme gave you?”

She turned even pinker. “I needn’t because it’s my first time,” she whispered.

“Are you quite certain?”

She nodded. “Esme said no woman becomes pregnant during her first night. And I might not—apparently there’s some obstruction there.” Her words trailed off, clearly mortified by the topic of conversation. Darby thought quickly. Presumably the sheath wouldn’t fit due to her virginity. But they probably should have a frank talk before things became too heated for discussion. He waited until he had finished undoing her braid, and then let his fingers run through the rough silk of her hair once or twice, just for pleasure. God, but she was beautiful. In the candlelight, her hair looked like gleaming gold, as soft and slippery as butter.

Then he rose and grabbed a small bottle from his bag. He held it up. Henrietta took the blue glass bottle and looked at Fool for Love

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him inquiringly. “This is an herb called pennyrub. Apparently it is a remedy for childbearing,” he told her.

“What on earth do you mean?”

“Should you become pregnant, even using Esme’s sheath, all you have to do is drink this medicine, and no pregnancy would result. It’s security, Henrietta.”

A flicker of a frown crossed her face. “I could never do such a thing.”

“We needn’t think about it,” he said soothingly.

“It’s not easy to become pregnant if we don’t do that—

thing, Darby.”

Now that he could believe.

He took the bottle and stuck it on the bedside table. “I simply didn’t want you to be fearful of intimacy due to pregnancy, Henrietta.”

“Oh, I’m not. I’m not fearful.” She paused. “I’m simply disinclined. I do not like untidiness, Darby.”

She used that term before, with reference to her hip, he thought dimly. He gently pushed her to her back, lifted her voluminous nightgown and without further ado, slipped his head under it. Instantly her fingers descended on his shoulders to shove him away, but his lips found her breast before she could get leverage. Delectable it was. She had perfect breasts, gloriously weighty, rounded with that unsteady softness that made a man’s loins explode. He could hear her protesting, but it was too late. The marauder had entered the village. He was in the dim tent of her nightgown, feasting on her body. He moved from one breast to the other and back again. Her nipples were swollen dark rose. His hands shaped and danced on her skin, and in a few moments she had stopped pushing him away and began twisting up to offer him her breast. There were no more protests, only whimpers flying into the candlelight. He smiled. Screw Aphrodite’s seven pleasures—or fourteen of them, for that matter. There was nowhere he’d rather 284 Eloisa

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be than hidden under a cumbersome nightgown, listening to his own little Henrietta discover that her body was not untidy, but pleasurable.

Darby’s presence under her nightgown was one of the most bewildering experiences of Henrietta’s life. When he first ducked under her gown, she felt a quick ripple of terror and violation. Millicent had said her husband would effect his messy work under the covers, but had never mentioned a thing about him gazing at one’s body or—or putting his mouth to it! Surely this was some new London perversion, known only to rakes.