spoke of lust, were taught that it was shameful. But it must be good, she decided now, though she would die sooner than admit it.
Maybe he would hold her first. Or kiss her. That would be nice. It was so long since anyone had made her feel special.
She waited. He drummed his fingers on his thighs and looked about the room. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he did not know how to proceed either.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what to do next.”
“Perhaps I should go first. To show you.”
Her imagination tried to picture that and rebelled. “How can you reach?”
He pulled back, eyes wide, and then laughed so richly the mattress rocked below her knees. “On you, I mean,” he said, still laughing.
“It’s not fair to laugh at me. You men cannot demand that women be innocent and then mock us for being exactly what you say you want.”
He wiped a hand over his face, his laughter subsiding to a groan. “I assure you I cannot reach. It is one of the tragedies of being human.”
“Well, another tragedy of being human is that women aren’t born knowing this kind of thing,” she snapped irritably. “So if you want me to honor our agreement, you shall have to stop laughing at me and try communicating for once.”
“You mean to go through with this, don’t you?”
“We had a deal.”
“You are adorable.”
His tone was as languorous as a summer afternoon. He lifted one hand slowly, then rested his knuckles against her cheek, a touch warm enough to melt chocolate. He brushed his knuckles back and forth, back and forth, and she matched her breathing to his rhythm. His eyes searched hers, half puzzled, half…concerned? Then his gaze fell to her mouth. Back to her eyes. Back to her mouth.
And she thought: My husband is going to kiss me now.
She closed her eyes and waited. His lips would be as soft and warm as his caress. She would tangle her fingers in his hair. And run them down his neck, over his shoulders. Spread her palms over his chest. His skin would be hot to the touch, she was sure of it, and his body hard. She might feel his heartbeat. Feel his energy. And he would touch her too. That sultry caress would slide down from her cheek to her throat, perhaps even to her breasts, now clamoring for his touch. He was her husband. This was good. They would make babies. She heard her own breathing and shut her mouth to quiet it, but a moment later, her lips were parted again.
Waiting. Waiting. For him to—
“It is remarkably diverting to tease you,” he said cheerfully.
She jerked back, her eyes flew open, and blood rushed through her head.
“You were teasing me?” She knocked his hand away from her face. “I’m trying to do the right thing, the honorable thing, and you’re making fun of me?”
“’Fraid so.”
He vaulted past her in a swirl of silk and landed on the floor with a thump. She spun around, her nightgown getting tangled up in her legs so she had to kick herself free. She gripped the bedcovers to keep from clawing at his wicked face.
“You never meant for me to do it?”
He grinned. “No.”
“All this time I’ve been worried about it and wondering if other women did it with their husbands, and you…You…you fiend!”
“Mrs. DeWitt, you didn’t!” He arranged his banyan around his shoulders, eyes wide and laughing. “Do you mean to tell me that while we were making polite conversation at the rout, you were imagining all the couples—”
“Not all of them! And I don’t even know what to imagine but…”
“Oh, you are too adorable!”
The beastly man was laughing at her again.
She rose up on her knees, right at the edge of the bed, and swiped at him, but he danced sideways, out of the way.
“You horrid—” She swiped again. Again he dodged. And laughed.
“—Wicked—” Another swipe, another dodge, another laugh.
“—Awful—” Another swipe, harder, faster this time, and she would have fallen off the bed if he hadn’t darted forward and caught her forearms to hold her steady.
And kept holding her, gentle but firm, looking perplexed.
“I am all those things and more, but you already knew that,” he said. “Why so upset?”
“I am only trying to do what is right. You ought not mock me for it.” She pulled away from him. “That was not nice.”
“Nice?!” He backed away. “Under what constellation did you ever imagine me to be nice?”