Page 88 of Her Beast

“You heard me,” he said, taking a sip of wine.

She sputtered. “But—you can’t just—” She bit her lip and then said, “You’re not going to explain that comment, are you?”

“No.”

She huffed an exasperated laugh. “You don’t find such a thing, erm, immoral?”

“No.”

Julia swallowed. And then did it again. “Have you ever—” her voice broke and she cleared her throat.

“Have I kissed a man?” Malcolm supplied, putting her out of her obvious misery.

She nodded, her cheeks on fire.

“Yes.”

She goggled at him. “Youhave?”

“Yes.”

Her hand shook as she lifted her glass to her lips, took a fortifying swallow, then a second, and then lowered it carefully to the table.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes.” Malcolm smiled slightly and added, “Very much.” Indeed, Smith was a superlative kisser.

The waiter arrived just then with their oysters and they ate without speaking.

Malcolm entertained himself by wondering what she’d say next. He honestly could not recall the last time he’d had a conversation with a man or woman and couldn’t predict most of what came out of their mouths.

She set aside her oyster fork, took a sip from her goblet, and asked, “How many times have you been in love?”

“Once.”

She nodded slowly, as if working up to her next question. “Will you tell me about your wife?”

Malcolm opened his mouth to sayno, but Sukey stopped him.

Ach, Mal—don’t be that way!

My memories of you are forme—not for anyone else.

Talkin’ about me is a way to keep my memory alive though, isn’t it?

Malcolm pondered the thought as he looked at the young woman across from him.

Julia squirmed under his inspection. When she opened her mouth, he knew she’d apologize for the question.

“I’ll tell you about her if you’ll tell me about your friend—Lily, was it?”

She looked startled but nodded. “All right.”

Their waiter appeared with a silver tureen and served their soup.

Malcolm wished they’d dined in his room, without servants. And preferably without clothing—at least on her part.

The moment the waiter left Julia turned to him; her soup forgotten. “What was her name?”

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