want. Your initiation has been criminally botched.”
“My husband was elderly,” she said, trying for dignity. “And ill, besides.”
“Then why did you marry him?”
“He was my only choice.”
He looked even more incredulous. “I don’t believe you,” he said flatly. “The men of London aren’t all such blind idiots.”
He couldn’t have said anything more certain to soothe her ravaged pride. “I don’t think my aunt would have lied to me. I didn’t have any money, I was far too serious and I didn’t take. I was lucky to get Sir Thomas.”
“Sir Thomas had thirty thousand pounds a year, and he would have made a generous settlement on your cousin as well as yourself. If anyone less plump in the purse came along I expect she would have sent them about their business.”
“She wouldn’t have!” Melisande gasped.
Benedick sat in a chair by the fire and proceeded to pull off his shoes and stockings. “You are still astonishingly naive,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “Next thing you’ll be insisting that I don’t want you.”
That was enough to bring her head up. “I am fully aware that you feel a certain physical response to my proximity,” she began. “But I also know that anyone can arouse that reaction in a male—it means nothing.”
His smile was grim. “I’m not that easy, my precious. I prefer my bed partners adventurous and experienced. You’re going to be hard work and nothing but trouble.”
“Then why don’t you unlock the door?” she snapped.
“Because you’ll be worth it.” His voice was soft then, and he rose, pinched out the candle by the chair and approached the bed.
“I don’t…”
“Stop talking, Melisande,” he said, sliding his hands behind her neck and cupping her chin with his thumbs. “We’ve already wasted too much time.” He put his mouth against hers, and this was no sweet salute, no soft seduction. With the pressure of his thumbs he pushed her mouth open beneath his, and she felt his tongue against her, tasted him, dark and hot and sweet.
She should argue. She should fight. She did neither. She lifted her arms and slid them around his neck, dancing into his kiss. He pulled her down on the bed, covering her, and the feel of his hot skin against her hands was a shocking intimacy. His fingers brushed her throat, and the collar of her night robe began to part. He moved his mouth away from her, down the line of her jaw to the hollow of her throat, heated breath warming her as he slowly unfastened the row of tiny buttons that usually took her so long to fasten, his mouth lazily following the exposed flesh.
She still had the covers around her, and he pulled them away, pushing them off her. The heat from the fire had begun to fill the room, and she closed her eyes, feeling his mouth on her skin. His hands moved up and covered her breasts, and she jumped, momentarily startled, then subsided as he stroked her, slowly, into a kind of dazed submission.
She was doing this, she was really going to do this, she thought. Her nipples hardened against his fingers, and the sharp intensity of the pleasure was almost painful. He was watching her, rubbing his thumbs back and forth across her breasts, and the feeling burned straight down to that place between her legs.
“Don’t,” she gasped, afraid of the sensation.
“Don’t be absurd, my pet. This is simply pleasure. You need to learn to get used to it.”
She sucked in her breath, wanting to squirm. “It’s…uncomfortable.”
He laughed. “Sex isn’t about comfort. At least, not what lies between you and me. It’s hot and hard and aching, and it won’t feel better until we’re finished.”
“Then why do it?” she whispered dizzily.
He smiled. “Because it feels so good.” And he set his mouth against her breast, sucking at her, and she let out a strangled cry.
It was too much. And it was not enough. He’d pushed the nightgown open to expose her breasts, and the sight of his head down against her, drawing her into his mouth made that ache grow stronger still. He put his hand on her other breast, his fingers dark against the pure white of her skin, plucking at her, and she let out a long, low wail as the burning grew hotter, harder.
He lifted his head to look at her. “Touch me,” he whispered. “Put your hands on me.”
She realized she’d been lying there like a virgin bride, clutching the sheets in her fists. She