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Chapter 17
In the pleasure-room, decorated with flowers, and fragrant with perfumes, attended by friends and servants, the citizen should receive the woman.
The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana
Nick had never made love to a wife before.
At least not his own.
He rubbed his chin. He should probably shave. He already had several days’ growth of whiskers and they would scratch her soft skin.
Berthold was with the duke tonight. Nick had asked him to be his father’s new caretaker, until he could find another one he trusted. Between the two of them, they would keep the duke safe from harm.
With no valet, Nick had to make do, untying his own cravat and tugging off his boots.
While he shaved by candlelight, always a tricky proposition, he thought about the night ahead.
He wiped his razor clean, splashed water on his jaw from the washbasin, and toweled himself dry.
If she was hungry, he had enough to satisfy her. He had oysters on ice and a bottle of champagne.
Strawberries and whipped cream. Rose petals.
He knew how to seduce a timid lady.
He grabbed a red rose from the vase on the mantelpiece and, with one firm twist, separated the head from the stem and scattered the petals across the silk counterpane, flinging a few on the pillows.
The door to Alice’s adjoining suite was open. He heard the sound of a pen scratching across parchment from her study.
Such a studious scholar, so absorbed by her work she didn’t even notice when Nick entered the room.
She wore the same modest gray gown with its lamentably high neckline.
No matter. He’d soon peel it off.
Tendrils of fine brown hair had escaped her chignon and she puffed them away with her breath from time to time.
She’d lit several candles, and the glow caught the gold strands in her hair and danced shadows over her face.
There was a pride in being her first lover, Nick reflected, as well as a responsibility.
No more shocking her with coarse language. She was putting on a brave act to hide her timidity. He would be gentle with her. Gentle and patient.
She would enjoy this as much as he would.
He cleared his throat but she took no notice.
He leaned over her shoulder, reading the words on the sheet.
He peered closer. Surely that didn’t say...
“Mouth congress?” he asked incredulously. Had he read that correctly?
Alice startled, and her pen slipped. A blob of ink puddled on the parchment. “Now see what you’ve done!”
She blotted the ink and lifted the sheet, fanning it with her hand.
He reached for the sheet but she snatched it away. “This is a lady’s private writing, I’ll thank you not to pry.”
