Page 80 of The Earl Takes All
It was much easier to stare at the fire. Mayhap she should leap into it.
“Julia,” he prodded far too insistently.
She shifted her gaze over. He was sitting back, his elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin on his hand, one finger slowly stroking just below his lower lip. She wanted to kiss him there.
“There is no place upon my person against which you could press your lips, your tongue, that I would find fault.”
“It’s not proper.”
“Would it bring you pleasure, joy, satisfaction?”
She fought not to squirm. “I think so. I don’t know for certain, as I’ve never been quite so bold. I’ve only thought of doing it.”
“Then it is not improper.”
“How does one learn what is proper and what is not?”
“By experimenting, I suppose.”
“It’s easier for men. You can visit brothels. I suspect you’ve had a thousand women, and if you make a fool of yourself with one you simply move on to another.”
“Not quite a thousand.”
“A hundred?”
“I truly didn’t count, but I suspect the number is far fewer than that. The important thing is: I would never make you feel a fool.” He held out his arms in supplication. “You may do with me as you will, and I shall be ever grateful for it.”
“If I wanted to flog you for keeping things from me?”
He grimaced. “I would probably object to that. I’m not of the opinion that pain equals pleasure. Although I think I’m relatively safe, as I promised not to keep anything else from you.” He looked toward the fire. “And yet already I have done so.”
Her chest tightened a fraction. “What have you kept from me?”
He slid his gaze over to her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Shall I gave it to you now?”
She furrowed her brow. “It’s an object, not a secret?”
“It’s a secret if I haven’t given it to you yet.”
“You’re being difficult.”
He grinned. “I am, but then you expect that of me, don’t you?”
To tease her, to cause mischief, to be playful. Strange how the facets to him that had once irritated her now charmed her. “Perhaps I don’t want it.”
“Fear of you tossing it in the fire is actually why I haven’t given it to you yet.”
She pouted, sighed, rolled her eyes. “I won’t toss it into the fire, but it’s not fair to tell me about it if you’re not going to give it to me.”
“I suppose you have a point. Wait there.” He drained his glass before getting up, striding to the desk and pulling open a bottom drawer. Reaching inside, he pulled out an oblong shape wrapped in brown paper, secured with a string. Walking back over, he held it out to her. “I was going to give it to you for Christmas, but I had second thoughts, was afraid it might give me away.”
Taking it from him, she set it in her lap, watched as he returned to his chair and went incredibly still, his focus on her as though this item and her reaction to it were of monumental importance. She tugged on the string until the bow unraveled and the paper fell away to reveal a glistening rosewood box with a small crank on one side. “Oh, Edward, it’s gorgeous.”
“It opens.”
Lifting the hinged lid, she smiled at the exposed mechanisms, protected behind a veil of glass. “What does it play?”
“Wind it up and see.”
