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“He said she was already too far gone—”
“Damn it, I am your husband, and I am telling you that sexual desire has nothing to do with madness, Sarah. Do you believe me?”
Her mouth opened, then closed. She clenched her arms tighter over her chest. “Those other women? They . . . they reached climax with you?”
James ignored the heat that climbed up his face. “Yes.”
“Perhaps you are only humoring me.”
“By God, I would hardly classify throwing other women in your face as humoring you!”
Sarah rubbed her arms and bit her lip, but she did not respond.
“I love you, Sarah.” Her eyes flew wide at the words, and James realized he had never said them out loud. “I love you, and if I thought you were in danger, you must believe I would do everything I could to make you well again. But there is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect.”
James was known as a fierce negotiator in the Commons, and there was a reason for that. He could read people, and the signs of capitulation were clear on Sarah’s face. She wanted to give in, wanted to believe him. Finally, he knew exactly what to say to end her distress.
“When we married you made me a promise, Sarah.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “I did?”
“Before God and our family, you promised to love and obey.”
“I-I did.”
“Then let me make this clear. If there is anything you need to learn about your body or my own, I will be the one to teach you. Do you understand?”
She stared, teetering on the edge of giving in to him.
“If you have questions about desire, we will find the answers together. We will discover your pleasure together. No more books by idiotic quacks. And if you become worried over your health, we will find the best doctor in London. Are we agreed?”
His wife took a deep breath and let her arms fall, so that only her hands stayed clasped together. One finger worked over the ring he’d placed on her hand a few weeks before. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Pardon?”
“Yes, I will come to you, James.”
The sound of his name on her lips combined with sheer relief and rolled through him like a wave. But she needed his strength, not his gratitude. “Good,” he said quietly. “Now I believe that your last lesson was quite inadequate.”
Her lips parted in question.
“We just barely touched on male anatomy.”
Sarah’s gaze trailed down his body before it jerked back to meet his. “James, it is the middle of the day.”
“So it is.”
A flush touched her lips, then deepened.
“You have clearly been in search of answers today,” he pressed. “What is it you wish to know, wife?”
When her tongue darted out to wet her lips, James knew that victory was his. And hers.
He unknotted his tie and locked the door . . . and the lesson began.
CHAPTER 7
Sarah stretched her legs beneath the sheets, seeking out a cooler spot. How strange it felt to be so thoroughly naked in her own bed. Strange and very wicked. She stretched even longer, letting her body sink into the fine linen.
