She smiled with deep promise. “Best of all, we can capture some of the wonder without the fear and awkwardness that curse real innocents.”
Gervase hesitated. While taking one’s time increased the pleasure, it hardly seemed necessary to playact as well. Diana was so exquisite that he needed no layer of dreams to increase his desire.
But as he studied her hopeful, anxious face, it seemed no great chore to act such a role. Women were different from men, and if it pleased her to spin a fantasy, it would cost him nothing to indulge her. With her Madonna face and air of gentle refinement, it was easy to imagine her a maiden giving herself for love, yet because she was a woman of experience, there would not be the fear of hurting her.
As he thought about it, the idea became exciting. “Your wish is my command. Since I have never had quite the experience you describe, I shall have to think a moment how I would begin.” He clasped his hands below her shoulders, his thumbs making slow circling motions through the silk on the tender flesh of her inner arms.
“I would start with talking,” he said thoughtfully, “perhaps over a glass of wine. Would you happen to have some wine?”
Her eyes sparkled up at him. “Will brandy do, my lord?”
“It will do very nicely.” As she crossed the room to where a decanter and goblets waited, he added, “Next, I would insist that you use my name. Titles don’t lend themselves to intimacy.”
She carefully poured three fingers of brandy into a goblet, then glanced up. “Very well . . . Gervase.”
He hadn’t realized how musical his name could sound. Before she could pour a second goblet, he took the decanter from her hand, replaced the stopper, and set it on the sideboard.
“We need only one. Also, it would be time to introduce a note of greater informality.” He peeled off his coat and untied his cravat, tossing them casually over the back of a chair. Under the white shirt his shoulders were very broad, a striking contrast to his narrow hips and waist. A few strands of curling dark hair were visible at the open throat of his shirt.
Lifting the brandy glass, he guided her to the sofa with a light hand on her back, and they sat, their bodies close but not quite touching. He offered her the goblet and she sipped from it, her eyes holding his over the rim, then handed it back. He turned the goblet so that he drank from where her lips had touched. “We would begin slowly.”
He rolled the brandy around in his mouth, savoring the smoothness of it before he swallowed, then held the goblet up to her mouth, tilting it so she could drink. “I would encourage you to drink enough that you would relax, but not so much as to make you unwell or unsure of what you are doing.”
He watched the column of her throat flex as she swallowed, a motion he had never consciously noticed, but which was now deeply erotic. Drinking more of the brandy himself, he stretched his arm along the back of the sofa and toyed with her hair, running his fingers through the dark glossy strands. “Then I would tell you how deeply beautiful you are.”
“Would I believe you?” she asked, a smile in her eyes.
“I would be prepared to swear on any number of Bibles.” He set the goblet in her hand and reached out to sketch her features as he described them. “I would extol your night-blue eyes, your satiny skin, your ruby lips.”
Diana’s face sparkled with appreciative humor. “Do lovers never use more imaginative metaphors?”
He chuckled. “I doubt it. If they did, they would be poets. Lovers are more involved with each other than with fine phrases.” He took another mouthful of brandy, no longer able to distinguish its fire from his own. “Since you are young and modest, I would avoid talking about your enticing breasts, your slim tantalizing waist, your rounded inviting hips.”
A becoming hint of rose colored her face as his fingers lightly followed his words. “Quite right not to mention them—a modest maiden would find such talk too suggestive.”
“Perhaps about now,” he mused, “I would think it time to make different use of the brandy.” He pulled aside the top of her robe, exposing the low-cut gown underneath and an expanse of gently swelling flesh. Dipping his forefinger in the brandy glass, he trailed it from the pulse point at the base of her throat toward the shadowed valley between her breasts. Then he leaned over and kissed along the brandied path, his mouth hot and firm against her.
As his lips moved to the edge of the gown, Diana’s body quivered and she gave a shuddering gasp. “An innocent maiden would find this all very surprising.” He paused and she hastened to add, “But not unpleasant. Not in the least.”
He raised his head and smiled, his mouth mere inches from hers, his eyes soft and amused. The deep timbre of his voice a caress, he murmured, “Then I would retreat a little, to give you time to accustom yourself to the newness. But I would not retreat too far.”
He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. This time his kiss was not hungry and demanding, as when he had first arrived, but leisurely and probing, bent on exploring every surface and texture of her yielding mouth.
With such a myriad of things to learn just about kissing, Diana wondered if she would ever live long enough to master all the other subtleties of making love. Since they had eased back against the arm of the sofa, balance no longer required her attention and she lifted her hands and buried them in the thick springiness of his dark curling hair.
After an endless, delicious embrace, Gervase pulled back and smiled, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. “An innocent maiden might not know how to kiss that well.”
So far, so good. He found her convincing, and even if her mind held doubts, her body seemed to know what to do. Diana laughed rather breathlessly. “Surely kissing would be one thing we would have practiced before now?”
“Mmm, doubtless you’re right.” He lifted her away from the sofa and slid the robe from her shoulders to pool on the cushions. Above her waist, the wisp of gown covered scarcely more than her breasts, and the silk was so sheer that the dark areolae were faintly visible.
Gervase’s breathing was no longer even when he bent forward and took her right nipple in his mouth, the heat of his kiss scorching through the gauzy fabric. With his right hand he cupped her left breast and began to tease the nipple between thumb and forefinger. The combined assault created sharply pleasurable sensations and Diana’s body tightened in response. Deep within her there was spreading fire, and her breath was a low moan as she pulled his head closer.
His own breathing uneven, Gervase stood and scooped her into his arms, her pliant body molding to his chest. “About now I would decide that you were ready for the next step.” She felt the vibrations of his deep voice as she put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for another kiss. His muscular arms held her effortlessly, and the kiss lasted as he carried her through the door and laid her on the high bed.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he stroked the silk-clad curves of her body, the coolness of the fabric belied by the warm body beneath. Diana lay back against the pillows, one slim arm entwined with his, her fairness a dramatic contrast to his dark skin. She might have been a shepherdess, giving herself trustingly to her beloved in some Elysian field where fear and betrayal would never be known. Her lapis eyes held exactly the shadow of anxiety that might be found in an innocent girl who both yearned for and feared the act of ultimate intimacy.
A five-branch candelabrum burned on the bedside table, and with a hand that trembled slightly, Gervase reached over and began pinching the candles out. “Now,” he said huskily, “it would be time to extinguish the light so that your maidenly shyness would not be offended.”
