“Perhaps not,” he argued gently, watching her eyes widen slightly. The scent of her arousal tempted him to bend closer and kiss the top of one thigh, even as he held her gaze. She caught her breath and flushed a little more, but did not move away.
Indeed, her eyes glittered and her lips parted. He released a slow breath, felt her shiver, then let his tongue flick against the softness of her skin again.
“Oh!”
Arthur had to avert his gaze lest he pounce upon her and ruin the mood he had himself created. The other stocking was discarded a little more hastily than the first, despite his effort, then he stood again, letting his hands slide up her smooth soft skin to frame her face once again. Her eyes were gleaming and she was on the cusp of a smile.
“My turn?” she asked in a whisper filled with welcome hope and yearning.
“I demand a kiss first,” he replied.
“As payment for your assistance?” she teased and he grinned down at her.
“At that price, you may summon my assistance at any time.”
“Perhaps I will,” she said, her manner impish, then Arthur could resist no longer. He caught her around the waist and pulled her close. He liked the feel of her in his arms, her breasts against his chest, her hair wrapped around his fingers, her mouth hungrily upon his own. He could not restrain himself entirely but kissed her more hungrily, emboldened by her own avid response. She gripped his hair in her hands and rose to her toes, kissing him back with a demand of her own and one that made his heart thunder. Once again, he whispered her name when they parted, and he saw her smile of triumph.
Her hands landed upon his chest, her head turning back and forth as she surveyed him. She plucked the gem from his cravat first and set it carefully aside, then untied the length of smooth cotton. Her brows drew together as she figured it out and Arthur provided no guidance to the mystery, being more than content to stand with his hands locked around her waist and look down at her. The fire on the hearth crackled, filling the room with its light and gilding the fair lady before him.
Not pretty.He would spend every night arguing that matter with her. How could a woman of such intellect not see the truth?
Her eyes lit with such triumph that he laughed when she discarded the cravat. “Should it be folded?”
He shook his head. “It has been worn and will have to be washed and pressed again.”
“What a foolish garment,” she said beneath her breath, but her eyes were glimmering in a thousand shades of silver and grey. They were like the sea in this moment, shifting and changing in the sunlight, disguising untold mysteries and secrets. Her lashes were long and unexpectedly dark, and when she dropped her gaze, it was as if a veil was dropped to hide her thoughts.
She had unfastened his waistcoat already and was pushing it from his shoulders. “You have to raise your hands,” she said.
“But I would have to relinquish a most satisfying grip.” He gave her waist a playful squeeze, liking how she smiled at him. He dared to tickle her a little and she gasped in outrage, twisting out of his grasp to retreat.
“Do not tickle me!”
He shed his waistcoat and held up his hands. “I cannot make such a promise. The temptation is too great.”
She braced her hands on her hips, doubtless unaware of how alluring she looked. “The temptation to have me at a disadvantage?”
“The temptation of seeing those eyes flash.” He caught her chin in one hand and bent toward her with purpose. “Perhaps you are a siren, intending to hold my heart in thrall.”
“Perhaps you talk too much, sir,” she replied, then kissed him of her own volition.
Arthur was startled to silence—and utterly delighted. He caught her around the waist and lifted her from the ground, deepening their kiss in a thoroughly satisfying way. When he set her on her feet again, they were both breathless and he was aroused beyond all.
Patience noticed. Her fingertips swept across the front of his breeches and Arthur inhaled at her touch. “The word penis,” she said. “is derived from the Latin for ‘tail’, though in English, the organ was referred to as a ‘yard’ from at least the fourteenth century.” She fixed him with a quizzical look. “Surely that is not an indication of its size?”
“Only in stories inappropriate for ladies,” Arthur acknowledged, now confident that her perusal of the medical volume had provided her with some expectation of what they would do. “I am certain you will find it of manageable dimensions.”
“Manageable,” she repeated, then reached for the opening of his breeches with resolve.
Arthur bent in the same moment to remove one of his boots and they bumped heads and parted awkwardly. He held up a hand and retreated a step, shed his boots with haste, then hauled his shirt over his head and casting it aside. His breeches quickly followed suit, then his smalls, and he looked up to find Patience staring at him, her cheeks aflame.
“Manageable,” she said again, and as if summoned by name, his arousal became more pronounced. “Oh!” she breathed, then came closer to investigate. Her eyes shone with curiosity and he was glad she was not fearful or repulsed.
“You are bold,” he said with pleasure.
Her eyes danced. “You do not realize that I looked upon you this very morning.” Her cheeks burned crimson at this confession.
“You did?”
