“Only an idiot would.” Kisses later he asked, “Do we dare to undress any further?”
“Probably not,” she said, running a hand through his tousled hair.Not so beaulike now, my lord.“But I’m sure we must.”
It was many minutes before they found the strength to get off the bed.
“I can undress myself,” he said, shrugging off his jacket, “but you’ll need assistance.”
“Another unfairness between the sexes.”
“If that’s your mind, I should introduce you to the Marchioness of Arden. She’s an enthusiast for the rights of women.”
“Does she wear corsets?”
“I doubt Arden would appreciate my knowing.”
“It would be obvious from the look of her gowns.”
“Then yes, she wears corsets.”
“The rights of women go only so far.” Kitty turned her back. “Release me, husband.” As he undid buttons, she said, “Some of my everyday gowns unfasten at the front. Fine gowns could, too.”
She undid the three buttons at her cuffs herself and took off the gown, letting it drop to the floor. He set to work on the knots and laces of her stays, saying, “These garments could be simpler.”
“I have soft bodices that I can wear instead of boned ones. They fasten at the front. But a gown never looks the same.”
“It’s an ancient struggle—comfort over appearance.”
“Women have had more rational dress at times,” she said, taking off her stays and petticoat, but watching as he removed his neckcloth and then sat to take off his boots. “A medieval style, perhaps. Loose, with a girdle at the waist.”
“Like a shift?”
She was down to her shift—and one stocking. She turned to the long mirror. The shapeless white garment hung down to her shins. “A gown would be longer, but...” She cinched the waist with her hands. “It looks like a sack tied in the middle. What fools we women be.”
She turned back to see that he was down to his breeches with his flap unbuttoned, which in some way was more enticing than complete nakedness. “What aspects of men’s clothing would you improve?” she asked.
“Neckcloths and collars. No starch.”
She took off her stocking slowly. “They’d just flop.”
He watched, slowly releasing the waistband of histrousers. “Our fathers had soft collars or none, and soft muslin neckcloths to tie around their necks.”
“Why do men need anything about their necks?” she asked, walking over to touch the base of his throat, but leaning her body into him lower down. “Why can’t they go low necked, especially in summer?”
He trapped her hand. “I’m sure many men have asked the same. There are countries where men wear long, flowing garments and are not felt less manly for it.”
“You supposedly set the fashion, Beau Braydon. Bring it into style.”
He escaped her touch to take off his breeches and drawers.
“In Greece,” she asked, closing her hand on his cock, “did men often go naked, as in statues?”
“Do we care?”
She eyed him, smiling at the heat in his eyes and at the growing heat in herself.
Better than with Marcus.
The thought felt wrong, wicked even, but it was true. With Marcus she’d always known what to expect, and always had to be careful. This was an adventure, and he could endure anything.
