No, but then neither was marriage, and it wasn’t meant to be. “As to excitement—”
“Exciting in the bedchamber, I mean. That’s what the mistresses are for, isn’t it, my lord?” A sly smile curved her lips. “For the gentleman with more exotic tastes, or those with insatiable appetites? I’ve heard such gentlemen can be most demanding.”
Was she flirting with him? She never had before, and he’d never encouraged her to, but it was a far more pleasant sensation than Finn would have anticipated, like having a playful kitten bat at his nose.
Unable to resist, he caught a loose lock of her hair between his fingers. “Tell me, Miss Somerset. What sort of tastes do you imagine a demanding gentleman indulges in the bedchamber? Now you’re so well read, I’m certain you can enlighten me as to the details of a gentleman’s satisfaction.”
“Me, enlightenyou, my lord, on the matter ofyoursatisfaction? No, I think not. I don’t like to bore you, and we can both agree I know very little about it.”
“Oh, I think you know more about it than you’re letting on. Please, explain it to me.”
“Well, I suppose it varies by the gentleman. I imagine some are more determined to satisfy their desires than others, as dark as those desires might be. It must be rather difficult to please that kind of gentleman, but there are ways to do so, I’m sure.”
Finn blinked. It was midnight, she’d just read aloud to him from a book that would make a sailor blush, and now they were discussing the myriad ways in which a lady could please a demanding gentleman in the bedchamber. His cock was harder than he could ever remember it being, and they were alone in a dark library. He couldn’t imagine anything more improper.
Or more arousing.
He should put a stop to this at once, but he couldn’t imaginethat, either. “Yes, I believe there are ways to please a more challenging gentleman. What do you suppose they are?”
If she had any notion of what this conversation was doing to him, she didn’t let on. She cast him a demure look from under her lashes, and then, without a trace of embarrassment in her voice, said, “Restraints, my lord. Blindfolds, perhaps, or a chase around the bedchamber?”
Restraints. Blindfolds. Chasing.
He swallowed back a moan as his entire body exploded with heat. “I…well, those would be very…but a gentleman doesn’t expect his wife to know—”
“Ah.” She looked up at him, the tiny smile still curving her lips. “That, Lord Huntington, is what the book is for.”
Finn didn’t often find himself speechless, but all he could do now was stare at her with his mouth open, like a fish dangling on a hook.
She went on before he could answer. “But most wives can’t provide such amusements, can they? I would think a gentleman accustomed to those things would much rather spend time with his mistress, and if a gentleman should be so preoccupied with his mistress he neglects his wife, what becomes of the wife’s desires then? I ask, my lord, because I imagine it happens all the time in aristocratic marriages. After all, a proper wife—and most gentlemendowant a proper wife—must look dull indeed in comparison to a mistress or a courtesan.”
Well. She’d paid close attention to the argument she’d overheard between him and Lady Beaumont, and she hadn’t forgotten one word of it. “I suppose a marriage like that might prove a lonely one for the wife. Is that what you wish to hear me say?”
“I don’t wish for anything at all from you.” She blew out a soft sigh. “You’re not to blame for this, Lord Huntington. You’ve only done what’s expected of you, just as I have. You found a proper lady, engaged in a respectful courtship, and became betrothed to her. Nearly every lady in London would have been delighted to receive your addresses and felt themselves amply compensated for any lack of affection in the marriage by the title of marchioness. You simply chose the wrong lady.”
Something inside Finn howled with rage at that. He tried to force it back, to shove it down into the deepest recesses of his chest, because shewasthe wrong lady. Everything about her was alive, and vibrant, and different. She was extraordinary, and extraordinary was dangerously unpredictable.
But the harder he shoved, the louder that part of him roared and clawed to get loose, and he was tired, so tired of keeping it down, holding it back—he’d never understood how tired, until he found her.
If I set it free for a moment, just a moment only…
“Tell me about your book, Miss Somerset,” he murmured, sliding his hands around her waist. “Tell me what you’ve learned about gentlemen.”
She stiffened slightly, but she didn’t move, or push him away. “I—what I’ve learned?”
“Yes.” He dragged his hands from her waist to her hips, then moved closer—close enough to feel the outline of her thighs through her skirts. “What do gentlemen like?”
She sunk her teeth into her lower lip, torturing the tender pink flesh, and he reached up and gently pulled it free. Did she know what it did to him when she bit her lip like that?
“Do gentlemen like to be touched?” he asked, his voice low, husky.
She slicked her tongue nervously over her lip where she’d nibbled on it. “Yes.”
Finn bit back a groan. “Where? Show me.”
His skin heated, every inch of it straining toward her, aching for her touch. It didn’t come for a long time—so long he thought she would deny him—but then she reached a trembling hand toward him, and brushed her fingertips against his lips. “Here.”
His eyes drifted closed. “Yes.”
