Page 28 of Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses
She was in his residence, in a bedchamber, being assisted by a maid when he dearly wanted to assist her in loosening buttons, freeing laces, unknotting ribbons. Instead he stood by the fire in his small library, downing scotch. He’d changed out of his wet clothing—quickly because the temptation of her so near was almost too much for a normal man to resist, and nearly impossible for one as randy as he was.
Taking her rowing at night had been a stupid thing. He’d been jealous of Somerdale—Somerdale for God’s sake. Jealous, which was even worse. He was not prone to jealousy. Early on he’d learned that in any relationship he was better served to retain a measure of distance when it came to his heart. But he’d wanted to give her an experience on the water that put Somerdale’s to shame.
He’d gone to the private room at the Dragons expecting her to be there. When he saw that she wasn’t, he hadn’t wanted to stay. So he’d made hasty arrangements for tonight’s outing. Again, stupid. It was as though he had very little control over his actions, and most assuredly not over any rational thought process. Of late, all wisdom seemed to have fled.
He never spent much time in his residence. Most of the furnishings and the few decorations had been chosen by his mother or Grace, and they’d provided little, assuming at some point a wife would finish things off. No one seemed to expect him to hold to his vow of never marrying.
If he were honest, Gina often made him question the wisdom of it. He liked variety in his women, but became quickly bored. He doubted he’d ever become bored with her.
He thought he’d been concentrating on the fire, but he must have been watching for her out of the corner of his eye, because he was immediately aware of her stepping into the room in bare feet, a blanket draped over her, held tightly to her breast. If she were wearing nothing at all beneath it, he was going to be in terrible trouble.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said quietly, almost shyly, “but I borrowed one of your shirts.”
Even worse. Imagining the way it would swallow her up, he found himself jealous of a bit of linen. And as he’d already proven, when jealousy was involved, he lost any ability to reason. “Would you care for some brandy to warm you up a bit more?”
She smiled. “Yes, please.”
While he saw to pouring her a drink, she padded over to one of the two chairs in front of the fire, sat, and tucked her feet up beneath her. He could see a knee peeking out from a part in the blanket. Torture had a new name and it was Gina.
He refilled his own glass to the brim with whiskey before walking over and handing her the snifter. He did wish she didn’t look so grateful, so alluring, so damned provocative. He was on a very short tether here, strained and taut, that was likely to snap at any moment.
He dropped into his chair, took two quick gulps of the oaky liquid, a third gulp for good measure. If he were a gentleman, he’d alert her to the rebelliousness of her knee and suggest she cover it. Apparently, he was not. His mother would be sorely disappointed in him. Later, much later, when he was fifty, he would no doubt be sorely disappointed in himself as well. Not so much at seventy. He had little doubt he’d still remember that knee and be grateful for the memory.
“How long?” he asked.
She tilted her head to the side. “Pardon?”
“How long before your clothing is dry?”
“An hour or two I should think.”
One hundred and twenty minutes of gazing on her, of having her within reach. He was residing in both heaven and hell. The whiskey was having a lethargic effect on him because suddenly he was grateful she’d taken a dip into the water, was here with him now. He settled back to enjoy her company. “So I shared with you earlier. Now it’s your turn to share with me.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, right. The most intimate thing I’ve done or imagined doing with a man.”
He lifted his glass in a salute. “You don’t have to tell me who he is or who you imagined him being.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t. You wouldn’t tell me who your lady love was so I won’t give you any names either.”
Lady love. Strange how he’d never really pondered Lady M in those terms, even though at the time he’d considered himself wrapped up in her spell. Also strange was that he didn’t contemplate reading poetry or sonnets to Gina. He enjoyed conversing with her far too much to consider giving up a single conversation in order to recite another’s words to her. “Yet you will provide details.”
She nodded, sipped her brandy. “Although to be honest, it’s not really something I imagined before I spoke with Venus, and since then I’ve not been able to get it out of my mind.”
His fingers tightened on his glass. “What exactly did she say?” The words came out harsher than he’d intended.
She laughed, a tinkling of bells, chimes, and crystal being flicked. “I think it bothers you that I spent time with her.”
“Bothered is not exactly the right word.” It was the perfect word. “I’m simply intrigued to know what she might have told you, to view the act from a lady’s perspective.”
She shifted. The knee disappeared, reappeared. “We didn’t get to discuss a great deal because we were interrupted—” She gave him a pointed look. He refused to take the bait and blush. “—but she was describing how a woman can experience pleasure without losing her virginity.” She looked into the fire. “She told me men like to touch everywhere, that some use their tongues in wicked ways. She was on the verge of explaining exactly how it all transpires when you barged in.” Her gaze came back to land on him. Hard. For some strange reason, his cock twitched. “I was quite put out with you. So perhaps you should give me some consideration and explain precisely what she didn’t get a chance to.”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll show you.”
She should have been scandalized by his offer. Instead, as he stood, she looked at the large bare hand he was holding out to her, and the only thought she seemed capable of forming was that he’d be touching her with that hand, that he would stroke and caress. That he might do a good deal more than that.
After taking a deep breath, she placed her hand in his, fought to breathe as his fingers closed firmly around hers. No hesitation on his part, no doubts.
“If at any time you change your mind, you have but to say and we’ll stop.” He drew her nearer until only a hairsbreadth separated them. With his free hand, he flicked the blanket off one of her shoulders and it fell to the floor, leaving a good bit of her legs exposed. “My shirt looks much better on you than it does on me.”
