“Now?” she asked, astonished.
“Why not? You can’t sleep, and after seeing you half-naked, I doubt I’ll be able to either.”
He lit the lamp on the bedside table.
She bent her head, surreptitiously spreading her hair over her breasts.
“Must I truly do this?”
“Do you not wish to?”
Part of her wanted to slide back time itself to the moment she’d known he was in the bed. Another part, dormant until now, was very interested in what he proposed. Too interested, as a matter of fact, and almost excited.
She stood, keeping her left arm across her breasts, and with her right hand, gathered up the folds of her nightgown, keeping them at her waist.
“Come sit here,” he said, indicating the end of the bed.
She sat and looked up at him.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
Her heart was beating so furiously she felt out of breath. Her lips felt full, almost swollen, and her skin sosensitive that the touch of her hair across her shoulders was almost painful.
“Brush your hair as you would every morning.”
She shook her head. “I haven’t my brush.”
He moved to the bureau and returned with a silver-handled brush that fit into the palm of his hand.
“My maid assists me,” she said.
“Shall I be your maid?” he asked.
“No,” she said, reaching for his brush. Slowly, she began to pull the brush through her hair, beginning at her temple and continuing until she reached the end.
As she brushed, Douglas reached over and clasped her left wrist, gently pulling it away from its shielding position. She glanced up at him, but he only smiled and shook his head. A message, then, without a word: It was pointless to ask him for a little modesty.
Her left hand flattened against the coverlet, and she closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and concentrated on brushing her hair. She attempted to ignore him, but that was made more difficult when he spoke.
“When you raise your arm, your breasts rise, almost as if they were soliciting praise. Or a kiss.”
She slowed the pass of the brush through her hair, kept her eyes closed by force of will, all the while wondering if he was going to kiss her.
Would he put his mouth on her breasts?
If he did, what would she do?
“Arch your back a little,” he said, and she did, knowing that the pose made her breasts stand out even more.
Was that his breath she felt?
“Your back is beautiful as well, Lady Sarah. Such a fine line, such a sweeping curve. I can barely keep my hands from you.”
Dear Heavens.
“Stand up.”
She opened her eyes.
