Page 47 of Miss Dignified
How gently Dylan asked the question. “Yes.” That much Lydia knew. Marcus had boarded the transport ship, and that ship had made port without any mishaps at sea. She ought to move the conversation to some other topic—any other topic—but instead, she undid Dylan’s cravat and breathed in his lovely scent.
“I’ve done something larcenous,” she said.
“Under my roof?”
“In your bedroom. I put a few drops of your scent onto one of my handkerchiefs. I’m an idiot.”
Dylan kissed her temple. “Do you know why I really wanted to see the note that came with your flowers, Lydia?”
“Because William Brook—”
He kissed her to silence. “I am jealous that some other fellow thought to leave flowers for you before I could bring you a bouquet myself. Forget-me-nots, of all the cheek. Whoever he is, I resent him bitterly. I suppose this makes me an idiot as well.”
“Assuredly, Captain.”
They fell to kissing, a sweet, unhurried introduction to a gradual and mutual disrobing. Where Lydia’s anxieties had been, hope blossomed, for surely a man this patient and considerate would hear her out when she made her awkward explanations? Surely he would understand sibling loyalty as well as he understood loyalty among soldiers?
Lydia set aside the last of her worries when Dylan scooped her up and laid her on the mattress.
He came down over her, a warm blanket of nearly naked male. “I want your word on something, Lydia.”
“That sounds serious.”
“You tolerated the fumblings of some randy officer to satisfy your curiosity.”
“Not the behavior of a paragon, I—”
He treated her to an openmouthed, tongue-twining kiss that stole the thoughts from her mind.
“Precisely the behavior of a very young paragon when she’s intent on banishing a dangerous sort of ignorance, but please be a different sort of paragon with me in this bed.”
Dylan’s ardor had waned as they’d spoken of past encounters, but he was once again quite obviously aroused and making no effort to spare Lydia awareness of his desire.
“What sort of paragon would you have me be?” she asked, tracing his eyebrows with her fingertip. “I cannot compete with your elocution teacher for skill, Dylan.”
“Be a paragon of courage,” he said. “Trust me enough to be honest with me. If I’m too heavy, and you can’t breathe, if I’m making you uncomfortable, or if you need me to touch you somehow differently or more or less, then tell me. My objective is to please you, but I’m scouting new terrain, Lydia, and you will have to help me get the lay of the land.”
“You make it sound as if we are learning some complicated new dance together.”
“We absolutely are.”
“Will you be honest with me too?”
He spoke very near her ear, so she could feel the shape of his words in his breath. “Does that mean I must confess that I would love to see you without your chemise?”
“Yes, and that you will allow me to see you without your breeches.” Though the bedroom was all but dark, and Lydia’s need was more to touch Dylan’s naked flesh than to actually see him unclothed.
Dylan lifted off her and peeled out of his breeches.
Lydia shifted up and back against the pillows and scooted about with her hips until the hem of her chemise was bunched around her waist. Dylan had been right to ask her to summon her courage, because she had not thought to associate bravery with what transpired between men and women in bed.
Indignity, embarrassment, haste… not this nearly solemn unveiling and quiet sharing of memories. She lifted her chemise over her head and stuffed it under the nearest pillow.
“Will I do, Captain?”
He surged over her, gently pinning her to the mattress. “I have wanted you since you first scolded me for intruding belowstairs in search of a sandwich. You have brought warmth and comfort to my home and to my heart, and yes, Lydia, you will do. You will do splendidly.”
Besiege her,Dylan ordered himself.Besiege her with kisses and tenderness and patience…
