judge the expression on the parts of her face he could see. He should not have had her turn her face into the shadows—no matter how enchanting the silhouette.
“But, it is not about trust.”
“No?” He could not wait to hear this.
“It is about curiosity. How can I learn if I do not ask?”
He sighed. “I will allow you questions, but only when they seem to seek knowledge.”
“Do you want me to take off my gown now?” She sounded quite nervous. Her fingers moved to pluck at the string that held the neckline.
Damn, Ruby had chosen well. The gown was perfect: virginal and alluring at the sametime. And he had no doubt that Grace had no idea exactly how much he could see with the light shining through.
“I was going to wait longer. I do so enjoy looking at you. Are you warmed by the fire? You have stopped shivering.”
“I am quite warm. My backside is positively toasty.”
“Can you imagine it as my caress, my warmth against you, cushioning you?”
She blushed. Even in the half-dark he could see the color rise up her chest and the flush spread across her lower cheeks. “Do you want me to?”
She did like to talk, to chat, though perhaps it was only a sign of her nerves. “Yes, I want you to imagine that everything is me tonight—the silk of the coverlet, the warmth of the fire, the brush of your hair, even your own hands. If I ask you to touch yourself, you will imagine it is me. Everything tonight is under my control, and therefore is me.”
“Oh.” It was almost a squeak.
He let silence hang for a moment—and then leaned forward. “Do you wish to take off your night rail? I will allow you to if you wish.”
“Do you want me to?”
“I want you to let it go whenever you are ready, ready for my eyes to feast upon you.”
Her blush grew more colorful. Her fingers rose and fidgeted at the tie, pulling slightly but not enough. Her head turned to the right and left as if seeking some sound, some indication of what he wanted.
He watched and waited, hardly breathing, refusing to give her any indications of his wants. This was up to her.
She shifted from foot to foot, her legs parting so that he could see light seep between them, the shadow between her legs growing visible.
How long was she going to make him wait? Ruby had praised him for his patience, but he did not feel patient now. Still, this was about Grace. She needed to be ready. She needed to express her desires.
Only once she had admitted to her wants would he fulfill them.
Chapter Six
Wasn’t he ever going to speak again? Louisa twisted the tie of the gown between her fingers. Why didn’t he just tell her to take it off? She was getting hot. The fire was beginning to overheat her behind—her ass, he would call it—and she wanted to move, to shift. Her whole body wanted to move, to stretch, to find ease. She felt as if she had springs inside her, ready to uncoil.
She shifted again. Why didn’t he just tell her to?
If he told her to then she’d obey and it would be simple.
It wouldn’t be because she wanted to, because she wanted him to see her, wanted to know what came next.
If he told her to she would simply be following orders.
She wouldn’t have to admit that she wanted.
And she did want.
She wanted him to see her.
She let the thought settle about her. Wanting had never been part of this. It was supposed to be about completing a task so that she could marry.
It was definitely not supposed to be about wanting.
Ladies did not want. They were ladies.
But she did want.
She closed her eyes beneath the blindfold.
Nobody would ever know. For tonight she was safe.
She could want tonight, could admit to wanting, and tomorrow she would no longer want and it would no longer matter.
Nobody would ever know.
Not even Charles would know. He would know somebody, some woman had wanted, but he would not know it was she.
For this one night she could be free. She could do what she wanted.
Want.
She wanted.
With quivering
“But, it is not about trust.”
“No?” He could not wait to hear this.
“It is about curiosity. How can I learn if I do not ask?”
He sighed. “I will allow you questions, but only when they seem to seek knowledge.”
“Do you want me to take off my gown now?” She sounded quite nervous. Her fingers moved to pluck at the string that held the neckline.
Damn, Ruby had chosen well. The gown was perfect: virginal and alluring at the sametime. And he had no doubt that Grace had no idea exactly how much he could see with the light shining through.
“I was going to wait longer. I do so enjoy looking at you. Are you warmed by the fire? You have stopped shivering.”
“I am quite warm. My backside is positively toasty.”
“Can you imagine it as my caress, my warmth against you, cushioning you?”
She blushed. Even in the half-dark he could see the color rise up her chest and the flush spread across her lower cheeks. “Do you want me to?”
She did like to talk, to chat, though perhaps it was only a sign of her nerves. “Yes, I want you to imagine that everything is me tonight—the silk of the coverlet, the warmth of the fire, the brush of your hair, even your own hands. If I ask you to touch yourself, you will imagine it is me. Everything tonight is under my control, and therefore is me.”
“Oh.” It was almost a squeak.
He let silence hang for a moment—and then leaned forward. “Do you wish to take off your night rail? I will allow you to if you wish.”
“Do you want me to?”
“I want you to let it go whenever you are ready, ready for my eyes to feast upon you.”
Her blush grew more colorful. Her fingers rose and fidgeted at the tie, pulling slightly but not enough. Her head turned to the right and left as if seeking some sound, some indication of what he wanted.
He watched and waited, hardly breathing, refusing to give her any indications of his wants. This was up to her.
She shifted from foot to foot, her legs parting so that he could see light seep between them, the shadow between her legs growing visible.
How long was she going to make him wait? Ruby had praised him for his patience, but he did not feel patient now. Still, this was about Grace. She needed to be ready. She needed to express her desires.
Only once she had admitted to her wants would he fulfill them.
Chapter Six
Wasn’t he ever going to speak again? Louisa twisted the tie of the gown between her fingers. Why didn’t he just tell her to take it off? She was getting hot. The fire was beginning to overheat her behind—her ass, he would call it—and she wanted to move, to shift. Her whole body wanted to move, to stretch, to find ease. She felt as if she had springs inside her, ready to uncoil.
She shifted again. Why didn’t he just tell her to?
If he told her to then she’d obey and it would be simple.
It wouldn’t be because she wanted to, because she wanted him to see her, wanted to know what came next.
If he told her to she would simply be following orders.
She wouldn’t have to admit that she wanted.
And she did want.
She wanted him to see her.
She let the thought settle about her. Wanting had never been part of this. It was supposed to be about completing a task so that she could marry.
It was definitely not supposed to be about wanting.
Ladies did not want. They were ladies.
But she did want.
She closed her eyes beneath the blindfold.
Nobody would ever know. For tonight she was safe.
She could want tonight, could admit to wanting, and tomorrow she would no longer want and it would no longer matter.
Nobody would ever know.
Not even Charles would know. He would know somebody, some woman had wanted, but he would not know it was she.
For this one night she could be free. She could do what she wanted.
Want.
She wanted.
With quivering
Similar Books
