Her life abroad had taught her many things, including the fact that the English were not always kind to themselves in their fervent pursuit of decorum. She had been amongst their number—a shopkeeper’s daughter was expected to be well-behaved and modest, even if adherence to that role meant crushing the spirit.
It didn’t have to be that way. So long as no one was hurt, it was a wonderful thing to be untethered from rigid codes of conduct.
Owen wasn’t her pupil, but she could teach him that. She could show him how to free himself, how the bestowing of pleasure could be a gift given to oneself as well one’s lover.
Gently, she said, “It might be confining, too.”
His brow furrowed as he nodded slowly. “I’ve been so concerned about not doing harm that I daren’t take a step for fear I might inadvertently hurt someone.”
“There’s caution,” she said thoughtfully, “and then there’s paralysis. Imposing such restrictions can be binding to the point of suffocation. I know this from experience. Is it possible that this held you back from voicing your infatuation with me?”
“I didn’t think a sixteen-year-old boy would hold much appeal to a sophisticated woman like you. But,” he added, “I was most troubled by the possibility I might harm you.”
“And now? Do you still feel an attraction to me?”
His jaw worked, and with his neckcloth still undone, she could see the flex of muscle in his neck.
“I dare not say,” he finally allowed.
“Because you fear that your interest would be unwelcome?”
He gave one clipped nod.
“You have been confined and restricted for a long time,” she murmured in sympathy. “I know what it is like to feel so forcibly restrained. As though you’re asphyxiating yourself to fulfill someone else’s idea of what constitutes propriety. Right now, without anyone here to pass judgment, I would like you to be honest with me.”
“My fascination with you burns as strongly as ever,” he said, then clamped his lips together as if holding himself back from speaking more.
Though she made herself look calm without, within, she reeled from his revelation. All through her earlier fascination with him, she hadn’t been alone. That pull between them continued to throb with life and potential—dangerous potential.
She had urged him to be candid ostensibly to ease the invisible iron bands that wrapped around him. There was another motive, however, one she dared not even think, yet it burned within her all the same.
“When you first met me, you likely knew little about sex.”
He nodded, the movement stiff at first, but then loosening slightly. “You said I may be honest, and so I shall be. When you initially came to Tarrington Hall, I was a virgin.”
“No longer. Now you’re a man of experience.”
A small, rueful snort escaped him. “You know so much about so many things, but not this. Men of experience don’t turn into wordless oafs in the presence of women. They know how to say the right things, how to flatter and seduce.”
“Which you do not,” she surmised. His candor humbled her, even as she was astonished at what he revealed.
“That farthing is always in my pocket, reminding me of my father’s lesson. It’s there now, in here”—he patted the place in his coat that held the coin—“and here.” He tapped his finger against his temple.
“Confining you,” she said.
“Even if I were a practiced rake,” he went on, “none of those other women are you.”
“I—” She had no answer to this. All this time, as she’d fought against her own wicked needs, he’d had his own secret, one in which she had been his focus.
“How many women have you taken to bed?” she asked, even as her heart thudded so hard it was a struggle to speak calmly.
“Two.” He blushed furiously as he spoke.
Her mouth went dry, and she could only stare at him. Never had she believed she would have this conversation with him, and certainly not in this context, when she had been salivating over his naked body moments earlier—in fact, she was still ogling him clothed. The beat of desire continued to pulse through her as they stood within touching distance.
“With your looks, I would have believed you’ve had more than two lovers. Did something keep you from bringing more people to your bed?”
“I had a hope,” he said reservedly. At her prompting look, he explained, “A distant, foolish hope that you would be the one to teach me about sex.”
A short, stunned laugh burst from her. “I’m not certain if I should be offended by your presumption. Do you think so little of me?”
His eyes darkened. “Impossible for me to overstate my opinion of you.”
She brought her hand to her own throat, her fingers light against her skin, but even this gentle touch roused her sensitized body. “I’d no idea. All this time, I didn’t know.”
“I remember meeting you when I was home for the winter holiday,” he said, his voice low. “You wore a gray dress, as if you were trying to fade into the background. Yet on no account could you fade away to me. I’d come into the parlor and you were laughing with my sisters, and I’d never seen anyone so abundant with life. You glowed with it—all I wanted was to soak you into me, to be inside you.”
As he spoke, her breath came faster, and her banked hunger flared brightly. Yet she had to be honest with him.
“I’ve no recollection of that moment.” Thankfully, she hadn’t become attuned to him until later.
His laugh was rueful. “Why would you? I went mute as a piece of shale, and hardly spoke more than three words at a time in your presence. Didn’t stop me from staring after you, though. From that day forward, I was fascinated by you.”
“It was you,” she said suddenly.
He looked at her with alarm. “What was me?”
“I had a collection of books. Erotic books. One night I discovered one of them had gone missing. I had always suspected that a maid had nicked it but…” She stared at him. “You took it.”
“I—” He cleared his throat, and he shifted from foot to foot. “I snuck into your room, hungry just to see where you slept. And I found those books.” A pink stain spread across his cheeks—from embarrassment, or arousal, or both. “I did filch one.”
She sucked in a breath, caught on the blades of stunned need.
“That’s when I knew,” he said hoarsely, “there was more to you than the cool, learned Miss Holme. You possessed wisdom, experience, passion. And a mouth that I desperately wanted to taste. That’s when I began to fantasize about what it would be like to have that wisdom, experience, and passion trained on me.”
He shook his head. “This is madness, to tell you this, when I haven’t a hope in hell that you could ever think of me in that way.”
“Owen,” she rasped. The whole of her body was hot and shivering, as if she had a fever, and the need to press herself against him trembled through her limbs.
The wisest thing would be to walk away. End this tortuous conversation, head quickly back to her narrow room, make herself come, and go about her life as if none of this had ever happened. She hadn’t seen his marvelous body, or heard him confess his desire for her, or begun to entertain the mad, entirely wrong idea that she should act on her hunger for him.