Page 3 of Lyon of Least Resistance

His color deepened and he glanced at the woman in the doorway.

“Place them on the table, Hermia,” Cordelia said. “I can admire them best from there.”

“Very good, ma’am,” Hermia said. Then she bowed to James. “I did as you bade, sir…gave them a rinse and trimmed the stems at the base.”

“Thank you.”

Hermia bowed once more, then exited the room.

Cordelia approached the vase and ran her fingertips over the blooms. Then she startled as a pair of hands circled her waist and a warm body molded against her from behind. She closed her eyes, willing the rush of familiarity in her heart to subside. Then he kissed her neck and a shiver rippled through her as his soft breath warmed her skin.

“They’re beautiful,” she said.

“Dahlias for my own Dahlia,” he breathed. “They can never surpass your beauty, and I’m ashamed that they withered on the journey here. I only wish you could see them in all their glory at Bedford Hall, my country estate.”

So do I, darling James.

Ignoring the voice of her soul, she turned and gave him a bright smile.

“They look as fresh as if they were plucked not five minutes ago,” she said. “I shall treasure them. But I must insist that you leave some blooms at home, or your poor sisters will be deprived of their beauty. I’m sure Georgiana would like them.”

“Georgiana only cares for jewels and trinkets,” he said with a sigh.

“And well she might. She’s a lady.”

“Is that why you’ve always refused such gifts from me? Because you’re not a lady?”

“And I never will be,” she said, ignoring the flutter of hurt at his words, spoken in such a matter-of-fact manner. “Now, I think perhaps we should begin the true business of the evening.”

She took his hand and led him toward the bed. He lowered his gaze in the manner of a shy child, and she placed her fingers beneath his chin.

“Look at the bed, my James,” she said. “This is where you’ll become a man, where you will learn how to be an accomplished husband.”

He flinched, though whether it was the prospect of losing his virginity, or the prospect of taking a wife, she knew not.

“W-will it hurt?” he whispered.

Sweet heaven! He really was an innocent.

“James, you must know that, for a man…”

“No, will it hurt you? I cannot bear the thought of hurting you.”

“No, my sweet man,” she said. “You cannot hurt me. Only a woman’s first time hurts. So, when you marry, your wife will feel a little pain on your wedding night.”

His expression darkened. “You speak of my marriage so easily?”

“I’m acquainted with the world,” she said. “I know you must marry, to give your title an heir.”

“But you will not—”

“Hush, my sweet,” she said, placing a finger on his lips, suppressing the small fizz of need as he kissed her fingertip. “I can teach you how to lessen your wife’s pain, to be gentle and give her pleasure. A good wife will thank you for it and give you pleasure in return.”

He sighed again.

“Don’t be sad, my James,” Cordelia said. “I wish to make you happy tonight.”

“Only because I pay you.”