Never had he stood before a woman naked, his sex swelled because he had no say in that, and he knew his sex would swell more and she would be afraid, but he prayed she would not be overly afraid. Just a bit. Aye, he wanted just a bit of hesitance in her when she looked at him. He stood directly in front of her. He watched her white hands reach out to lie palms flat against his belly. He shuddered and his sex hardened. He saw then that she had closed her eyes. She was feeling him, every bit of him, her fingers probing lightly into the muscles over his belly, moving slowly lower until her fingers tangled in the bush of hair at his groin. He wanted her to touch him so badly he thought he would howl if she didn’t. Lightly, so very lightly, her fingers found him.
His flesh was alien to her, he knew that. She circled him, coming ever closer. He wondered how much longer he could stand it. Then her fingers closed around him. Her eyes opened and she stared at her hands and at him held between her hands.
“Don’t be frightened, Hastings. Well, mayhap just a bit, so I will know that you admire my endowments.”
She licked her tongue over her lips. He nearly leapt on her. He threw his head back, his hands dug into his flanks, his throat worked convul-
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• Iv striving for control. But there was very little left. He pulled slowly
away from her.
To his shock, she didn’t release him. She rose, still holding him, walking toward him even as he moved back.
He laughed, an agonizing laugh, but still a laugh because surely if one ere to see this odd dance of theirs it would bring laughter and a bit of amazement.
He clasped her arms in his hands. “Release me, Hastings, else I will spill my seed on this beautiful carpet.”
“It is from Flanders,” she said, still holding him, her fingers stroking him slowly. “It is very old. Nay, not yet. Let me hold you longer. You’re hot between my hands, Severin. Hot and smooth.”
“You cannot. Please let me go, Hastings. It will be a close thing.”
She sighed. “Very well.” She released him. She sighed again, then said, “Will you help me, Severin?”
He was breathing so hard now, his chest was heaving. “Hastings, I cannot. If I do, I will rip your gown. Nay, sweeting, you do it. But be quick. I cannot wait.”
This was not the same man who had shamed her those two nights. Not the same man who had insulted her, who had looked at her as if he didn’t care if she were his wife or not. No, not the same man at all. She didn’t understand this, but she realized that she hadn’t wanted to release that male part of him that came inside her. She had liked to hold him. It made her feel incredibly strange, somehow urgent, mayhap even frantic. It also made her feel powerful. She wasn’t aware that her own breathing had quickened, but Severin was. He sat on the bed, watching her as she had him. She was quicker, her gown and shift pulled over her head in but an instant of time. Then she was pulling free her garters and rolling down er stockings. She kicked her feet free of the pointed-toe slippers.
“Come here,” he said.
She blinked at him, looked over her shoulder, looked back at him, and said, “All right.”
Is there someone behind you?”
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“Nay, but I’m naked and I am not at all certain if I should be doingthis.”
“Do it. I did.”
When she was standing in front of him, between his legs, he reached out his hands and cupped her breasts. Her flesh was soft and smooth, and she was so very white. He wanted to weep. She looked down to see him close his eyes. He wasn’t looking at her. That was better. She moved a bit closer, resting her hands on his bare shoulders. The wound had healed nicely, the scar long and nearly flat.