tightly wound fabric from her body. She could see his expression thanks to a small window opening in the stables beneath them that let in the moonlight. She reached up to hold onto his shoulders, afraid she might fall.
“I desired you immediately, though not as I do now. I did not know you well enough to admire you then. And I was angry at your deception.”
Her breasts were finally fully uncovered. She moved her hands to conceal them, but he wouldn’t allow her to do so.
“But those feelings you mentioned were there, anyway. Just as they are right now.”
He cupped her breasts in both hands, and Clara thought for sure she might die. It was as if he’d branded her. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in his touch.
“Desire,” he said, his voice so low she could hardly hear him. And then his hands moved, his thumbs brushing across the tip of each breast. “’Tis a powerful emotion. One that makes people do unusual things.”
She opened her eyes. “Such as?”
He took a step toward her. “This.”
His mouth came down on hers in a rush of heat and warmth. Of pleasure. His tongue dove into her mouth and he hauled her up against him. This kiss was unlike the others. It was hard and fast, demanding. She gave what he asked for, tentatively touching her own mouth to his and then becoming bolder as the sounds he made encouraged her.
He broke away, moved her hair to one side, and began to kiss her neck. His tongue flicked against her skin, behind her ear and then lower.
“I want you, Clara, as I’ve wanted no other.”
“Want?” she managed to say.
He took her head between his hand and ran his thumb along her lower lip. He looked down, groaned, and took a deep breath.
“I want to make love to you. I want what I can’t have.” He licked his lips and left behind a trail of wetness she longed to trace with her own tongue.
“Give me your hand.”
She didn’t even think twice. Clara raised her hand between them. He took it, turned it over, facing her palm downward, and said, “Do you promise not to be shocked?”
“Aye.”
He guided her hand down their bodies until it rested. . . there! Even beneath the fabric of his tunic and breeks, she could feel it. Quite easily. It was hard, very much so.
“Desire,” he repeated. “The evidence is there.”
She’d heard talk, of course. Had been forced to look away many times, for the men who’d hired her to squire for them in tournaments had often changed in front of her. But she’d henceforth managed to avoid this part of a man. Now, she did not want to avoid it. Rather, she wanted to know more.
“’Tis hard,” she said simply.
Her hand pressed on her own accord, and the sound Alex made deep in his throat forced her eyes to his.
“It hurts?” she asked.
“Not precisely.” He moved her hand away. “Let me show you.”
He reached down between them and cupped her in the same spot. None had ever touched her there before, and at first it felt curious and strange. Leaving his hand in place, Alex kissed her again. This time, his touch was gentle. He teased her lips with his tongue all while continuing to press against her.
When she began to press her hips toward his hand, he abruptly pulled away.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not. . . exactly,” she said. And then she understood. “You felt the same way when I touched you?”
“I did, lass.”
“And when I sleep next to you?”
“Aye, then too.”
“Because you desire me?”
“Very much.”
Clara smiled up at him. “It seems I desire you as well.”
“Aye, it does,” he said, smiling back.
“So what happens next?” She tried to make her voice sound as if she was unaffected—when in truth she was anything but.
“That, my fair English lass, is the question I’ve been asking myself since the moment you demanded to come with me.”
He was hard, throbbing, and very ready. He could reach out and take her, show Clara the joys of lovemaking. Alex had never wanted anything more in his life. Almost every instinct urged him to touch her bare skin once again, run his hands along her breasts, tease those taut peaks, and take them into his mouth.
But he could not. Would not.
“I wish that we could continue our lesson, but I’ll not take the virginity of a maid. A woman whose name I do not even know.”
“I do not understand how that matters,” she said, leaning into