“For the first time, I agree that’s best.”
Her head snapped up. “For every time.”
At this, his lips quirked in a self-satisfied smile and Alexandra found her anxiety replaced by annoyance. “You’ll change your mind,” he predicted.
He didn’t know. She had to remind herself. He didn’t realize what she was doing. What these conditions avoided.
What her first time had been like.
“I won’t change my mind,” she insisted.
Something in her voice must have brooked no response, though his expression was equally skeptical and amenable. “You’ve given this entirely too much thought.”
“I had to,” she breathed. “That is how I … it’s what I do.”
She’d have backed away from his careful approach if his features hadn’t softened into something so tender and fond, it rooted her feet to the ground.
“So I am beginning to gather.” He kept his hands clasped behind him, a gesture both unthreatening and self-possessed as he made a great show of peeking at her list. “How many more of these conditions are there? I’m worried I won’t be allowed to touch you by the time you’re through.”
“Just one,” she whispered, distracted by the scent of him. By the way the soft fire gilded skin already darkened by the sun.
“Thank God.”
“Perhaps we—” She had to swallow once again. Could she be hungry? Had she eaten anything at dinner? She couldn’t remember. But something about his scent, that particular blend of clove, brandywine, and leather affected her in the same manner as would a succulent meal. She even felt it in her stomach.
And lower.
“Perhaps what?” he prompted mildly.
Gathering her courage, she glanced away. Staring at her list and seeing nothing. “Perhaps when you’re … when we’re … conducting the act, you could move slowly? Gently? So as to cause less trauma to the cervical tissues—”
“Good God, Doctor, put that away,” he begged, his shoulders trembling with barely suppressed mirth. “I have to say this must be the most peculiar seduction in history.”
Was it? She didn’t have to ask as she watched his lips twitch as he valiantly fought his laughter.
She’d bungled it.
Deflating, she tried to puzzle out how to salvage the evening. “Which part did you find most peculiar?”
“Well, for starters, I’ve never heard tell of a woman demanding a man not use his tongue.”
That hadn’t been what she’d expected. “Really?”
He let his hands drop to his sides, and for a moment, she thought he might reach for her. Instead, he said, “Darling, it’s the part of the anatomy most requested by ladies, all told.”
“More often than the…” Unable to say the word, she pointed in the general direction of his hips, trying not to notice that the appendage in question had become noticeably larger.
“Categorically.”
She made a face. “Why? It’s so … wet and slippery.”
“That’s rather the point.” He chuckled, the color in his cheeks a little higher than she’d previously seen.
Was he … blushing? Did men do that?
“I can’t imagine how—”
“We can readdress that later.” He held his hand up as though he could take no more, finally reaching for her. His finger slid beneath her chin, tilting it up. His face was a bemusing mask of ferocity and tenderness. “Don’t fret. You’ve seduced me, utterly.”
“I did?”
“And you need not fear what we’re about to do. Only a beast wouldn’t be gentle with you,” he whispered earnestly. “Especially the first time.”
To her horror, tears ached in the back of her throat. “Didn’t you say all men are beasts?”
“Of course we are.” His knuckle caressed her cheek. “It’s why we need a beauty like you to temper us. To tame us. To teach us how to appreciate something delicate.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that as her heart fluttered behind her ribs like a trapped sparrow.
“Now,” he said. “Do you have anything else, or may I kiss you yet?” His head lowered, this time not intending to wait for an answer.
“Wait!” She reared away, placing the chair between them. “Don’t you think we should remove our clothing before physical contact?”
The dimple returned. “Might I suggest an alternative?”
“Of course,” she breathed. “Whatever it takes to make you more comfortable. It’s your seduction after all.”
He chuckled again at that. “Often during lovemaking, the lovers undress each other. Whilst kissing. Is that anywhere on your list?”
Lovers. A noun. A person having a sexual or romantic relationship with someone, often outside marriage.
That’s what he was about to be. Her lover.
Not her rapist.
“How many lovers have you had?” The question escaped before it had fully formed in her mind.
He choked. Coughed. Then groped about for an answer.
“I don’t need a precise number,” she hurried to amend. In fact, she unconditionally didn’t want one. Why had she even asked? “I was just trying to ascertain if it were enough for you to be considered well educated on the practice.”
“I am, I assure you,” he finally managed. “Let us leave it there.”
“Very well.” Alexandra stepped out from behind the barrier of the chair feeling somewhat akin to Joan of Arc or Ann Boleyn. Brave. Unsure. And … something else. A little curious?
Better to face the gallows now than to dread them for a month. Best to get this over with.
He was a kind man. One with demonstrated protective instincts, gentlemanly conduct, and—as yet unconfirmed—sexual skill. She could enjoy the kisses. She could endure the rest.
He took the list from her trembling fingers, an affectionate fondness tilting his lips. “I almost want to check this for anything else, but I’m afraid to.”
There had been more. So much more she didn’t write down. She’d wanted to ask him not to pull her hair. To request that the moon not shine. To inquire as to how violent his passions were.
She wanted to ask him, very bluntly, not to hurt her.
But then, because he was an instinctively observant man, he’d know what happened to her. He’d guess why she was so peculiar, as he’d put it.
And she didn’t want him to know. Because then he’d ask who, and when, and how.
She could confess none of that. Not ever.
“It’s natural to be nervous,” he continued, lacing a finger through one of the curls spilling over her shoulder. He watched her with those keen, perceptive eyes. “You don’t have to, if you’ve changed your mind. As difficult as it would be, I could wait until after the wedding.”
Yes, she did. She did have to. The anticipation gutted her with every hour that passed.
“I need to do this,” she told him. “I came to you.”
“So you did,” he murmured. “And before one of us leaves this room, you’ll come for me.”
“Wha—?”