"Bow?"
"You know perfectly well what I mean."
"Arse? That is the forbidden word. There is a better word?"
"Of course there is, but it's always best not to speak of such things at all."
"What things?"
Mrs. Sedley muttered, "Oh, dear," and excused herself to check on supper.
"Parts of the body," Julian continued as Mrs. Sedley left the room.
"We should not speak of them at all?" Anya stepped toward him and lifted her hand. He almost flinched when she placed the tip of her finger there. "Nose," she said, running her finger downward. "Mouth. Chin. Neck." Her hand drifted steadily down. "Chest. Belly."
Julian grabbed her wrist and stopped her inspection. "It's best you stop right there."
"I see," she said, not at all surprised that he had stopped her when he did. "You are telling me that it is perfectly acceptable to discuss some body parts, but if those parts are below the waist..."
"Anya..."
She leaned closer. "Perhaps I should whisper."
"Perhaps you should behave."
"Julian DeButy," she said, her eyes glued fearlessly to his. "You are a prig."
He didn't deny it, though he didn't care for the word at all. No more than he cared for prude or puritan . He'd been called all that and worse, in the past two years. "I am a moral man."
Her eyes softened, became dreamy and inviting. "You are afraid of the animal that lurks inside you."
"There is no..."
"You are afraid."
He didn't deny it.
"In the moments we have before dinner, perhaps we can discuss the way you walk."
Anya smiled. "You like the way I walk?"
Julian took a deep breath. "Well..."
Before he could form the words, Anya turned and walked toward the doorway, her hips swaying in their own rhythm, her every step a seduction. At the doorway, she turned and began to walk toward him, her satisfied smile adding to the seduction.
"Your manner of walking is... lovely, in its own way," he said staidly. "And while such a manner of walking might be perfectly acceptable on Puerta Sirena, it's not quite demure enough to be acceptable here."
Her smile faded. "You want me to change the way I walk?"
"You should watch Valerie and your grandmother. They both—"
"They walk like they are in pain," Anya protested. "They move like something inside them is broken."
"You needn't alter your way entirely," Julian said, as he noted the displeasure on his wife's face. "But if you could subdue the, uh, sway of your hips."
Her displeasure faded. "I do not know if I am capable of changing the way I walk. My hips simply sway." She turned her back on him and took a luxurious step. "See?" she said as she took another languid stride.
Julian crept up behind her and laid his hands on her hips. He had to make her stop. She did, and he stood there with his hands on her hips and her back to his chest. "All right," he said softly. "Take a step."
She did, and he stilled the natural sway of her hips as she moved forward. Her flesh moved beneath his hands, undulating gently beneath pink satin. But it wasn't satin he felt. It was his wife. The swell of her hips. Her warmth. Her softness.
"Is that better?" she asked softly.
"Much," he choked.
She took another step, and his hands remained where they were as he tried to contain the swing of her hips. His step was in time with hers, they moved in symmetry, as if they danced.
Julian lowered his nose to her hair and closed his eyes. Heaven above, this woman smelled so good. What made her hair smell so enticing? Perfume. Maybe the lingering aroma of a scented shampoo. They took another step, and his body pressed more insistently against her back.
" Marido , "Anya whispered softly, "if this is what our lessons will be like, I believe I will enjoy having you as a tutor."
Julian dropped his hands and took a step back, as he realized how close they were, how intimate. Good Lord, Anya had done nothing blatant, and still he had allowed his thoughts to take a dangerous path.
"Just... observe your cousin Valerie. She walks quite properly."
Anya turned
"You know perfectly well what I mean."
"Arse? That is the forbidden word. There is a better word?"
"Of course there is, but it's always best not to speak of such things at all."
"What things?"
Mrs. Sedley muttered, "Oh, dear," and excused herself to check on supper.
"Parts of the body," Julian continued as Mrs. Sedley left the room.
"We should not speak of them at all?" Anya stepped toward him and lifted her hand. He almost flinched when she placed the tip of her finger there. "Nose," she said, running her finger downward. "Mouth. Chin. Neck." Her hand drifted steadily down. "Chest. Belly."
Julian grabbed her wrist and stopped her inspection. "It's best you stop right there."
"I see," she said, not at all surprised that he had stopped her when he did. "You are telling me that it is perfectly acceptable to discuss some body parts, but if those parts are below the waist..."
"Anya..."
She leaned closer. "Perhaps I should whisper."
"Perhaps you should behave."
"Julian DeButy," she said, her eyes glued fearlessly to his. "You are a prig."
He didn't deny it, though he didn't care for the word at all. No more than he cared for prude or puritan . He'd been called all that and worse, in the past two years. "I am a moral man."
Her eyes softened, became dreamy and inviting. "You are afraid of the animal that lurks inside you."
"There is no..."
"You are afraid."
He didn't deny it.
"In the moments we have before dinner, perhaps we can discuss the way you walk."
Anya smiled. "You like the way I walk?"
Julian took a deep breath. "Well..."
Before he could form the words, Anya turned and walked toward the doorway, her hips swaying in their own rhythm, her every step a seduction. At the doorway, she turned and began to walk toward him, her satisfied smile adding to the seduction.
"Your manner of walking is... lovely, in its own way," he said staidly. "And while such a manner of walking might be perfectly acceptable on Puerta Sirena, it's not quite demure enough to be acceptable here."
Her smile faded. "You want me to change the way I walk?"
"You should watch Valerie and your grandmother. They both—"
"They walk like they are in pain," Anya protested. "They move like something inside them is broken."
"You needn't alter your way entirely," Julian said, as he noted the displeasure on his wife's face. "But if you could subdue the, uh, sway of your hips."
Her displeasure faded. "I do not know if I am capable of changing the way I walk. My hips simply sway." She turned her back on him and took a luxurious step. "See?" she said as she took another languid stride.
Julian crept up behind her and laid his hands on her hips. He had to make her stop. She did, and he stood there with his hands on her hips and her back to his chest. "All right," he said softly. "Take a step."
She did, and he stilled the natural sway of her hips as she moved forward. Her flesh moved beneath his hands, undulating gently beneath pink satin. But it wasn't satin he felt. It was his wife. The swell of her hips. Her warmth. Her softness.
"Is that better?" she asked softly.
"Much," he choked.
She took another step, and his hands remained where they were as he tried to contain the swing of her hips. His step was in time with hers, they moved in symmetry, as if they danced.
Julian lowered his nose to her hair and closed his eyes. Heaven above, this woman smelled so good. What made her hair smell so enticing? Perfume. Maybe the lingering aroma of a scented shampoo. They took another step, and his body pressed more insistently against her back.
" Marido , "Anya whispered softly, "if this is what our lessons will be like, I believe I will enjoy having you as a tutor."
Julian dropped his hands and took a step back, as he realized how close they were, how intimate. Good Lord, Anya had done nothing blatant, and still he had allowed his thoughts to take a dangerous path.
"Just... observe your cousin Valerie. She walks quite properly."
Anya turned
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