Her muscles tightened at the thought and her reservations flew up the chimney.
James was sitting next to her on the sofa, his arm stretched comfortably along the back behind her. Sighing, she took a healthy sip of her brandy.
“It’s a good year,” remarked James.
“Mmm.” She looked at him, noting the planes of his handsome face and the flicker of the fire reflected in his dark eyes.
Paul and Harry were engaged in a lively debate concerning art and artists, and finally Paul turned to James. “I am about to kidnap Miss Harry.
“Are you?” blinked Letitia. “For what purpose, sir? Some nefarious plan I assume?”
“Of course.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows as Harriet giggled. “In fact, I am going to show her your paintings, James. The ones you’ve hung and the ones that still await your pleasure.” He stood, “Believe it or not, ladies, this London fop here has an unexpectedly excellent taste in art. And he’s just obtained the most magnificent work by a chap called Turner. It’s…engrossing to say the least and I want to hear what Miss Harry thinks of it.”
“I shall look forward to hearing her opinion,” said James casually. “You know where they are, Paul.”
“Indeed.” He held out his hand to Harriet. “Shall we, Miss Harry? I will expect you to be honest in your opinions, you know. I will not tolerate prevarication on such an important topic as art.” He opened the door for her. “However, on any other topic, you may freely prevaricate.”
They left the room on a laugh, and as the door closed, Letitia became aware that she and James were now alone.
They’d been alone before…but somehow, at this instant of time, it was different.
His hand drifted to her neck, and she lifted her gaze to his as his fingertip barely grazed the bare skin.
She shivered, then took a breath. “James,” she whispered. “I need to ask you something.”
*~~*~~*
A man only had so much willpower, thought James to himself, as he finally indulged a simple desire—to touch Letitia’s skin.
When she turned to him with those blue eyes of hers sending lightning bolts of arousal to his cock, he was lost. Whatever she wanted to ask…his house, his stable, his fortune…anything she wanted was hers.
He fought for control. “Ask away, my dear.”
She put her snifter down carefully on a side table. “I’m not sure how to present my question.”
“The simplest way is often the best.”
“Yes, well, you see it’s about—about this book I’ve written.” She fiddled with her skirt. “I believe I did mention I was working on one?”
James’s jaw was in danger of locking as he bit down on the shock of lust tearing its way up his spine. “Yes, I think I recall you saying that,” he managed.
“Well, you see, I actually finished it and sent it to a London publisher and he’s interested in publishing it and he has a contract ready…” It all tumbled out in one long breath as Letitia revealed her secret.
James gulped. “That is amazing news. Congratulations, Letitia—how exciting.” He tried to replace unrequited lust with excitement. Apparently it worked, since her smile broadened.
“It is indeed. I don’t need to mention how thrilled I am with the notion of being a published author.”
“Of course.”
“But there is one slight problem…”
“Well, I would imagine there might be a few,” he said calmly, while his balls solidified beneath his breeches and his cock threatened torture if he didn’t do something about it soon. “Publishing a book is no small enterprise. A few stumbling blocks along the way are only to be expected.”
She nodded. “This is somewhat more than a stumbling block though. And I’m hoping…” she took a breath, “I’m hoping you may be able to help.”
He inflicted even more agony upon himself by resting his hand companionably on her shoulder, sternly telling it that her breast was not available for caressing. Yet. “Anything I can do. You have only to ask.”
“Right then.” She straightened, turned to him and looked him firmly in the eye. “I want you to educate me in the sensations that accompany physical intimacy between a man and a woman. I need to know what it’s like to be touched that way.”
