A Forbidden Love by Alexandra Benedict Page B

thrust those mounds harder into him, leaving his muscles stiffening, his body aching to feel more of her, aching to know her without the frustrating barrier of clothing between them.
    Anthony released his hold before he took a leave of his senses—if he hadn’t already. She was in no further danger of fainting if she could wriggle so soundly in his arms. But there was still a good thirty feet to cross before she reached the privy, and he wouldn’t risk another vertigo brush over her and send her face down into the carpet.
    He cupped her elbow, and insisted, though in a slightly flustered voice, “I’ll escort you.”
    “I can walk just fine,” she muttered all the way to the privy, and once there, promptly shut the door in his face.
    The wooden obstruction snapped him from his bemusement. He sighed. Headstrong and distrustful. An ideal combination of character traits indeed.
    So curtly denied the opportunity to explain where the water closet was located, he hoped she’d figure that out on her own. But living out of doors, as was gypsy custom, he had to wonder if she had ever even seen a water closet.
    He took to restless pacing in the minutes that followed, another conundrum occupying his thoughts. Could he really stay in the same room with Sabrina and not be able to touch her? It had never really occurred to him before, that abstinence could be so…painful. He was still trying to tamp the stiffening in his groin, but it was proving rather difficult. He had never refrained from anything in his life, was wont to doing as he pleased, with whomever he pleased. And now he wanted Sabrina. Never mind that he couldn’t have her. His body was quite insistent that he take her. Bloody hell. Being a caregiver and a protector had an unforeseen, and rather agonizing, side effect.
    Engrossed with his bewildering thoughts, he didn’t realize how much time had passed, that his gypsy had yet to emerge from the privy. What if she had fainted, and in his absentminded state, he’d simply not heard her body collide with the floor?
    “Sabrina, are you all right?”
    He knocked again when there was no response. A brusque reply of perfect well-being followed this time around and he eased his twining muscles.
    Pacing before the door, he offered her a few more moments of privacy, when he realized what must have her so preoccupied. He smiled at the thought. If the girl had never seen a water closet before, then it stood to reason she was unlikely to comprehend the nuances of the contraption.
    With a light shake of his head, he reminded himself not to take anything for granted when it came to his gypsy.
    He rapped on the door once more. “Pull the valve.”
    A muffled “What?” came through the barrier.
    “The valve. Pull it.”
    Soon thereafter, the door creaked open. He was careful to do away with his grin before she took heed.
    “Shall we have breakfast?”
    He extended his elbow to guide her back to the bed, but she declined the invitation, and, tight-lipped, traversed the chamber on her own. He maintained a close proximity, to catch her should she fall, but his assistance was unnecessary. She didn’t flounder once.
    He realized then, there was something more than her beauty, something beneath those willful blue eyes, that relentless independence, that had him so intrigued. But thoughts of what that something was were put aside the moment Sabrina reached the bed and crawled over the covers, thrusting her posterior into the air.
    An admiring, if not somewhat wolfish, grin touched his lips at the charming sight. Was she a virgin? He wondered. He had never found the despoiling of maids particularly appealing. They were far too abashed for his taste. He much preferred the allure of an experienced woman—and gypsies weren’t known for being chaste. His gypsy certainly had no qualms about parading around in his bedchamber in only her chemise, and it was his understanding that a woman who found her body comfortable was very much