Page 46 of Miss Determined
Trevor made quick work of her footwear and remained on his knees before her. “You’re sure, Amaryllis?”
“Are you?”
“Never more certain in my life. Let’s get you out of that riding habit, shall we?”
Part of Amaryllis was happy to follow Trevor’s lead, to let him be the one thinking logically and managing the practicalities, but she’d been entirely passive in her previous encounters, and Trevor merited more from her than mere acquiescence.
“What of your boots?” she asked, rising. “What of this cravat? I’d hate for it to get torn in a moment of enthusiasm.”
“Then you best remove it from my person, hadn’t you?”
She took her time, and not because her hands shook ever so slightly. With Charles, she’d watched the cobwebs wafting about in the corners of the Breadalbane library’s coffered ceiling. Somebody had neglected the dusting sorely.
She could hardly recall the details of her encounter with Titus Merriman. A conservatory rendered aromatic by virtue of a barrow of horse manure awaiting use in the rose garden. Damp air and a cramp in her right thigh while Titus… jiggled away.
Trevor would brook no inspection of the ceiling, though Lissa very much wanted to inspect him. She slid the cravat from his neck and draped it neatly on the vanity. Next, she undid the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, then relieved him of his jacket and slipped his sleeve buttons free.
“Enough for now,” Trevor said, sitting on the bed and pulling off his right boot then his left. “My turn.”
He unbuttoned the jacket of Lissa’s riding habit, and though she had on several other layers—shirt, chemise, jumps—she felt every brush of his fingers, every undone hook. As he eased her clothing off, he indulged in small caresses—a hand brushed over her hip, a finger drawn along her shoulder, a kiss to her nape.
All lovely, and yet, disconcerting. “You are taller when we take our boots off.” Inane observation.
He leaned close. “I am dying to learn how our heights match in bed, Amaryllis.” He kissed her lips, and that became a whole bouquet of kisses.
Lissa wrapped her arms around him, the better to kiss him back. She’d known he was solid muscle, but to have only a thin lawn shirt between her fingers and his naked flesh…
“Shirt off, please.”
“How polite you are.” He stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head. “Skirt off, please.”
Lissa managed the hooks and tape and stepped free. With a traditional sidesaddle habit, she would have worn breeches beneath the skirt. With the divided skirt, she wore only plain stockings gartered above the knee and a summer-length chemise.
The stockings were darned, the chemise worn, and yet, the way Trevor regarded her made her feel lovely. His gaze held longing and desire, but also tenderness, reverence even.
“I am,” he said, “the most fortunate of fellows. I am anointed by fate to endure more wonder and delight than a mortal man can describe.”
Rather than withstand that gaze, Lissa turned back the bedcovers. Thanks to her bickering sisters, she’d kept this room as a sort of retreat, and thus the bed was made, the windows clean, the linen lightly scented with lavender.
“You are loquacious,” Lissa said. “Will you murmur sweet nothings to me the whole time we’re frolicking?”
“I will murmur whatever your please, Amaryllis, or maintain a rapt silence, the better to savor a sensory feast. I am yours to command.”
She sat on the bed and undid her garters. What commands did one give? Tallyho? View halloo? She was abruptly feeling in over her head and at risk for bungling.
Bravado would not serve, and retreat would not doat all. That left… Lissa cast around for strategies. Changing the subject, trying for a jest, small talk… Nothing in her social arsenal would get her past the growing puddle of self-consciousness occupying the place where her enthusiasm had so recently been.
That left… honesty?
Well, yes. With Trevor, she could be honest. “You find me at something of a loss. I know how to organize the sack races at the village fete, but this… I am at sea, Trevor. I have no desire to row in to shore, but I haven’t… That is, I’m not as experienced as you might…” She gathered her courage and leaped. “I don’t know what to do.”
The words cost her. If he laughed, if he gave orders,if he lost interestbecause of her ineptitude…
He sat beside her, tucked an arm around her, and spoke near her ear. “We do as we please, my love. We come together in a rapture of shared, private indulgence, but, Amaryllis?”
“Trevor?” How she loved the feel of him, warm and naked and close.
“Please be patient with me. I am unsure of myself in this new venture, and I need time to find my way.”
