He stepped aside in invitation. “Of course.”
“I wasn’t sure,” she said as he closed the door. “I thought you were coming to my chamber.”
“I was. That is, I tried. However, I saw Patience leaving and managed to retreat before she saw me. Then I began to doubt the wisdom of this tryst.” He wiped his hand over his brow. “I am likely thinking much too hard about this, but, you see, I haven’t been with a woman in a very long time and I?—”
She took his hand, effectively silencing his blathering, and led him toward the mahogany four-poster bed. The feel of her skin against his made him want to pull her against him, but he let her lead him.
When they reached the bed, she positioned him against it, then pushed him back until he sat on the green coverlet. She stood before him and locked her gaze with his. “How long?”
He blinked at her, trying to determine what she was asking. What had he just said? That he hadn’t been with a woman in a very long time. Damn, he was flustered.
“About three years.”
Her features didn’t change. “Well, at least you aren’t a rogue like some of the other gentlemen with whom you associate. Though I suppose most of them—all of them now?—are reformed.” She cocked her head. “But you are also a reformed rogue. You mentioned you were a rake before you inherited the title and that you frequented bawdyhouses.”
“Just one bawdyhouse,” he clarified. “I was a very particular rogue.”
She laughed, and the sound was low and seductive. Roman’s already hardened cock lengthened.
“How did you go from that rake to a monk?”
He didn’t want to tell her that his wife had made him doubt himself. “When I inherited, I dedicated myself to my new duty. You’ve seen the state the finances used to be in. I had much work to do. When I married, I took those vows very seriously. Since my wife died, I have continued to be busy.”
She arched a brow. “You simply have no time for personal gratification?”
“Oh, I make time for that.”
“I know. I heard you the other night. I should have explicitly asked if you take time for sex. It seems you do not.”
Roman’s pulse had never moved more frantically, and his body had never been in such a heightened state of arousal. He could hardly believe how plainly she was speaking or how incredibly erotic it was. “You heard me the other night?” His voice nearly cracked.
She nodded. “I had to go back into the dressing chamber to fetch my hairbrush. I could hear you against the door.” She took the smallest step forward—it was all she could do, for her legs now brushed against his.
Her gaze held his, and he was lost in the dizzying desire he saw in the blue depths of her eyes.
He parted his legs. “How did you know what I was doing?”
“I know what men do,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I’ve helped a man do that. Well, he was more boy than man. We were only seventeen.”
Her words enflamed him. He was both furious with any man that had touched her and so aroused by her knowledge and experience that he had to work hard not to throw her on the bed and ravish her.
He clasped her waist and could tell she wasn’t wearing anything beneath the dressing gown. His lust intensified. He pulled her to stand between his legs. “Tell me, Ellis—that is your true name, isn’t it? I do not want to call you anything but your real name when I make you mine.”
Her jawline was red where she’d worn her beard, but the color had begun to fade. Now it flushed back, moving up her face in a delicate blush.
“Yes, it’s Ellis. That was my mother’s maiden name.”
“Ellis Dangerfield,” he murmured. “Tell me, when was the last time you were with a man?”
“Five years,” she replied.
“And how many men have you been with?”
Her brow shot back up. “Will you tell me how many women you’ve been with?”
He laughed softly. “Ten, perhaps. Or twelve. I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know for certain.”
“Two men. The boy-man and someone else who was entirely forgettable.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “My experience doesn’t bother you?”
