“It is rude to reject a gift freely given.”
He jolted hard enough to jerk the bed. Then she watched in delight as his face shifted into the most gloriously insulted frown she had ever seen.
“I have never met a woman more determined to be debauched!”
She rolled her eyes. “No man is this virtuous. Not even the monks. There must be a reason.” Then she winced as he moved, and his boot accidentally kicked her shin.
He saw it, and all but leaped off the bed.
“I am sorry! How badly did I hurt you?”
She sat up, not bothering to cover herself. “If a man squeezing my toes cannot destroy my feet, then the scrape of your boot can do nothing. Take the things off. You are getting mud in my bed.”
He immediately pulled his feet off the bed then peered at the linen. Was he looking for stains? “Max, what is the matter with you?” Then her gaze suddenly widened as she thought of an explanation. “Is it that you do not… Do you desire… women?”
He jolted at her words and started laughing. “I want you, Yihui.” He caught her fingers and pressed them to his cock. Even through layers of fabric, she felt its heat. She squeezed it, measuring the length and girth while he hissed in reaction and his hips jerked.
“You want me,” she said softly. “And I have said yes. Why do you deny yourself?”
He trailed his hand down her thigh. She shivered at the caress, her blood heating in the wake of his touch. But she didn’t move except to rest her hand on his thigh. She didn’t creep upwards to his cock. Neither did she take it away. She wanted to touch him as he was touching her.
“Yihui, I am a large man. Even without these…” he lightly tapped the plaster and wood that splinted her feet, “I fear I would hurt you. In the depths of…” He winced. “During passion, I often forget myself.”
She shook her head. “Do all Englishmen think so hard about simple things? Or is it just you?”
He laughed. “Just me.”
“Emmaline said you spent the last five years whoring around with Prinny.”
He shrugged. “I drank more than whored.”
“That may be the only reason your head did not explode. So much worry. So much concern. Who thinks of you? Not yourmother. I have seen how she worries about you until something more interesting catches her attention. Not your father, who wants a copy of himself without regard to you. Emmaline, certainly, but she is as exasperated with you as I am.”
He was not taking her words well. He flinched as she spoke. “Perhaps I should go home—”
“You will take off your boots,” she said tartly. Then when he gave her an arch look, she lifted her chin. “I will wait on your clothes.”
“Yihui,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I have explained—”
“And now you will listen to me.After—”
“Yes, yes. All right. My boots.”
It was not easy to take them off. She had not realized how ridiculous those beautiful hessians were when trying to disrobe. She had to help him without bracing her feet, and that made for a very silly time. By the time the second boot clattered to the floor, they were both gasping for breath between the laughter.
It was healing, this laughter. In all her life, she had not spent a more joyous time than whenever she was with him. He had a wry way of looking at himself, both too serious and quietly arrogant. He was a man raised to be a leader, so much so that he thought only of his responsibilities and nothing of how truly fallible even the best man could be.
She knew that all souls were weak. She’d been raised around illness and frailty. And so she now saw how much he needed her to bring him back to life. Pleasure for him without thought to anything else.
“There,” she said as she flopped back on the bed. “Isn’t that better?”
He chuckled as he stretched out again, this time wiggling his bare feet. His stockings had come off during their tussle with his boots.
“Much better.”
“Good. Now tell me why do you think women are weak?”
He frowned. He didn’t need to answer. She knew that his own mother sometimes reveled in her weakness. She enjoyed it when people waited upon her. And Emmaline herself had never been encouraged to find independence.
