Vaguely, he heard her talking to him. His concentration, however, was centered elsewhere. She’d hiked her lemon-yellow skirts and lacy petticoat up to her thighs. He had a tantalizing view of her lush cleavage, too.
He watched mesmerized as she splashed water onto her face and licked off a few droplets from her bottom lip. She moved her tongue slowly, as if savoring the taste.
It took more willpower than Roman realized he had to turn around and attend to the horses.
Resigning herself to the fact that Roman was not going to discuss his sullenness, Theodosia emerged from the creek, retrieved a small, leather-bound book from her belongings, and settled down on a brilliant mass of orange-red butterfly weed beneath a slender willow. Within minutes, she was so engrossed in her reading that she failed to realize she was commenting on the text aloud.
“Man must take measures to prevent woman from having to bear his weight,” she paraphrased as she scanned the page. “Must also summon patience to prepare woman for entry. Pain will be lessened for her if man begins with long session of foreplay.”
Roman turned his head toward her so quickly, a sharp pain ripped through his neck. What in God’s name was she talking about?
“Man positions himself between woman’s thighs and begins with gentle probing,” she continued. “Woman may choose to wrap her legs around man’s waist. Allows for deeper penetration.”
Roman’s mouth dropped open to a wide O.
Theodosia turned the page. “Hips may move in a circular or back and forth motion. Maximum contact made with woman’s body. If contact broken, woman deprived of stimulation required to induce orgasmic pleasure. Said pleasure heightened by… Well, I never even imagined!”
“Imagined what?” Roman yelled, irritated that she’d stopped talking just short of the part about pleasure.
“Why are you shouting at me?” She closed the book and stood, her yellow skirts swishing across the orange flowers. “I was merely sitting here reading, and you have no cause whatsoever to bellow—”
“What the hell kind of book are you reading?”
“A sexual treatise entitledThe Sweet Art of Passion.”
He stared at her. Hard, and without blinking. “Sex treats?”
“Asexual treatise.A written exposition concerning the sexual activities of human beings. It was created centuries ago by a Tibetan scholar who, at the time, was considered a leading authority on the subject. Nine years ago, it was unearthed and translated into English. It has not been revealed to the general public but has been relatively contained within the academic world.”
Roman moved his unblinking stare from her face to the cover of her book. There had been many times in his life when he wished he had the ability to see through solid objects, but never more so than now.
“I have no experience with such matters,” Theodosia explained nonchalantly, watching the horses amble away from the creek and begin grazing. “Therefore, I thought it judicious to educate myself.”
Roman began to feel warm, and not from the heat of the day. He glanced at the creamy flesh between her breasts, wishing she’d unfastened just one more button.
“Passion is said to be an art, Mr. Montana. From what I’ve read in this book, some men master it and others do not. The instructions in this treatise encompass everything from the first kiss to the gentlest way to deflower a virgin to several highly unusual forms of attaining sexual gratification.”
Roman wondered if dead Tibetan men knew something live American men didn’t. “Uh, about these highly unusual forms… What—”
“Of course, I will proceed with my plans in an objective manner,” she added. “The pleasure that may result from sexual relations is unimportant to me. But even so, I should familiarize myself with proven, effective maneuvers. Don’t you agree?”
“What? Uh…”
Theodosia caressed the book, pondering the child she would soon bear. “I would like to conceive a male baby for Upton and Lillian,” she murmured.
Roman felt as if his brains had been taken from his head, scrambled like an egg, then poured back inside. He held up his hand in an appeal for her to stop speaking. “Wait a minute. Upton—he’s your brother-in-law. And Lillian…she’s your sister?”
“Yes.”
“And the baby you make with Dr. Wallaby—you’re giving the kid to Upton and Lillian?”
“Yes.” Thinking of how much she loved Lillian and Upton, Theodosia smiled a faraway smile. “They are unable to have a child of their own, and Lillian refuses to adopt. As her sister, I am the only person in the world able to give her a child close to her own flesh and blood. She and I are practically mirror images of each other, and Upton and Dr. Wallaby appear as if they were closely related as well. Therefore, the child I conceive with Dr. Wallaby will look very much like a child Upton and Lillian created. Not to mention the fact that Upton and Dr. Wallaby are both brilliant. The child will most likely inherit a profound thirst for higher knowledge. That, of course, is another reason why Dr. Wallaby is the perfect candidate to sire the child.”
She hugged her book to her breast, excited over her own plans. “I am deeply indebted to Lillian and Upton, Mr. Montana. This is the sole opportunity I have ever had to repay their kindness and generosity in full measure. Of course, they know nothing whatsoever about my plans. If they did, they would never allow me to go through with them. Therefore, I shall give birth to their child here in Texas, deliver the infant to them in Boston, and then set forth for Brazil to join Dr. Wallaby. That is, if he accepts me as his assistant.”
She glanced at her watch. “We should depart. The fifteen-minute rest has come to an end. Actually, we have been resting for exactly seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds.”
Roman didn’t speak for a very long while. He simply stared at her, trying to understand and accept her plans with the same casual attitude that she did.
