back to their books. “These feelings, Miss Worth—you said they’re sort of like hunger pangs. What is it you think you’re hungry for?”
Theodosia lay down upon her own bedroll and watched the stars glimmer between the swaying branches of the trees. “If I knew what it was I wanted, I would find the means with which to obtain it, Mr. Montana.”
He could no longer keep himself from smiling. God, the woman was too innocent to believe!
He decided to put her out of her misery. “You want me, Miss Worth.”
When she turned her head to look at him, she saw him smiling. His grin was lopsided—only the left side of his mouth turned upwards. It reminded her of the way a little boy smiled when he was up to mischief.
Only Roman Montana wasn’t a boy. He was a full-grown man with a smile so charming that it caused those warm flutters to race through her again. “I want you?”
Roman tossed the twig into the nearby shadows. “Me. You have ever since first laying eyes on me. After I caught your bird this afternoon, didn’t you compliment me on the size of my vast meatus? Now, if you weren’t interested, why would you study the size of my—”
“Vastus medialis, vastus intermedius, vastus lateralis, and sartorius. Those are the names of various muscles in the human thigh.”
Her explanation surprised him into a long moment of silence. Thigh muscles? “I knew that.”
“What are you trying to tell me, Mr. Montana?”
Renewed smugness replaced his chagrin. “You want me the way a woman wants a man, Miss Worth.” At her look of puzzlement, he elaborated. “The hot tickle you’re talking about is desire.”
“Representative toward what specific thing?”
“What?”
“What sort of desire are you saying I have?”
“How many kinds of desire are there?”
“Desire is an impulse toward something that will gain enjoyment and or satisfaction. One desires water when one is thirsty. Upon drinking the water, one’s thirst is satisfied. Therefore, desire, in itself, does not indicate one specific—”
“All right, dammit! What you feel is sexual desire. Got that? Sexual desire, Miss Worth!”
Theodosia deliberated. “And just how is it that you are so certain of that? You are a man and cannot know about the feelings a woman—”
“I know.”
The authority in his deep voice convinced her that he did indeed know. “And do you feel the same desire toward me, Mr. Montana?”
Her boldness intrigued him. He raked his gaze over her, aggravated again that her flannel nightgown prevented him from seeing anything. Still, he remembered her lush breasts, tiny waist, and rounded hips. A man didn’t forget a body like the one she had. “Yes.”
His affirmation stunned her. Could it really be possible that Roman desired her in a sexual way? Unfamiliar with the prospect, it took her a moment to grasp her surging emotions and tuck them away. “If what you say is true, we must endeavor to maintain firm control over our feelings. A sexual union between us might very well lead to conception, and you are not at all the sort of man who could be considered a candidate to father the child.”
“Candidate? What—”
“Speaking of the child…” She turned to her side to face him. “What can you tell me about Dr. Wallaby? I know of him through his letters and reputation, but I am extraordinarily interested in the aspect of his basic character. Is he given to laughter? What does he talk about when not discussing his research?”
Roman watched her lips move but paid little attention to what she was saying. What was this child and candidate stuff the woman was talking about?
“Mr. Montana?”
“What? Oh, Dr. Wallaby.” He struggled to remember the questions she’d asked. “I’ve never seen him laugh. Never even seen him smile. He hardly talks. He’s either got his nose in a book or his eye stuck to his microscope.”
“How did you come to meet him, and what exactly is it you do for him?”
Roman watched a
Theodosia lay down upon her own bedroll and watched the stars glimmer between the swaying branches of the trees. “If I knew what it was I wanted, I would find the means with which to obtain it, Mr. Montana.”
He could no longer keep himself from smiling. God, the woman was too innocent to believe!
He decided to put her out of her misery. “You want me, Miss Worth.”
When she turned her head to look at him, she saw him smiling. His grin was lopsided—only the left side of his mouth turned upwards. It reminded her of the way a little boy smiled when he was up to mischief.
Only Roman Montana wasn’t a boy. He was a full-grown man with a smile so charming that it caused those warm flutters to race through her again. “I want you?”
Roman tossed the twig into the nearby shadows. “Me. You have ever since first laying eyes on me. After I caught your bird this afternoon, didn’t you compliment me on the size of my vast meatus? Now, if you weren’t interested, why would you study the size of my—”
“Vastus medialis, vastus intermedius, vastus lateralis, and sartorius. Those are the names of various muscles in the human thigh.”
Her explanation surprised him into a long moment of silence. Thigh muscles? “I knew that.”
“What are you trying to tell me, Mr. Montana?”
Renewed smugness replaced his chagrin. “You want me the way a woman wants a man, Miss Worth.” At her look of puzzlement, he elaborated. “The hot tickle you’re talking about is desire.”
“Representative toward what specific thing?”
“What?”
“What sort of desire are you saying I have?”
“How many kinds of desire are there?”
“Desire is an impulse toward something that will gain enjoyment and or satisfaction. One desires water when one is thirsty. Upon drinking the water, one’s thirst is satisfied. Therefore, desire, in itself, does not indicate one specific—”
“All right, dammit! What you feel is sexual desire. Got that? Sexual desire, Miss Worth!”
Theodosia deliberated. “And just how is it that you are so certain of that? You are a man and cannot know about the feelings a woman—”
“I know.”
The authority in his deep voice convinced her that he did indeed know. “And do you feel the same desire toward me, Mr. Montana?”
Her boldness intrigued him. He raked his gaze over her, aggravated again that her flannel nightgown prevented him from seeing anything. Still, he remembered her lush breasts, tiny waist, and rounded hips. A man didn’t forget a body like the one she had. “Yes.”
His affirmation stunned her. Could it really be possible that Roman desired her in a sexual way? Unfamiliar with the prospect, it took her a moment to grasp her surging emotions and tuck them away. “If what you say is true, we must endeavor to maintain firm control over our feelings. A sexual union between us might very well lead to conception, and you are not at all the sort of man who could be considered a candidate to father the child.”
“Candidate? What—”
“Speaking of the child…” She turned to her side to face him. “What can you tell me about Dr. Wallaby? I know of him through his letters and reputation, but I am extraordinarily interested in the aspect of his basic character. Is he given to laughter? What does he talk about when not discussing his research?”
Roman watched her lips move but paid little attention to what she was saying. What was this child and candidate stuff the woman was talking about?
“Mr. Montana?”
“What? Oh, Dr. Wallaby.” He struggled to remember the questions she’d asked. “I’ve never seen him laugh. Never even seen him smile. He hardly talks. He’s either got his nose in a book or his eye stuck to his microscope.”
“How did you come to meet him, and what exactly is it you do for him?”
Roman watched a
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