Page 40 of Lyon of Least Resistance

He kissed her again.

“I can grow to love you,” he said. “Do you think you might find it possible to begin to love me?”

If anything, his request increased her distress. She lowered her gaze and yet another tear spilled onto her cheek. Did she pine for another?

He tempered the little pulse of jealousy. “Cordelia. Look at me.”

She met his gaze, her eyes glistening with moisture.

“I’ll not be angry if you tell me the truth,” he said, “but I would have you speak honestly. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded.

“Do you love another?”

“Dear God, no!” she cried. “I—” She broke off, as if fearful of her outburst. “Forgive me.”

She tried to withdraw her hand, but he held it firm.

At length, she nodded.

“Yes, James,” she whispered.

He raised his eyebrows in inquiry.

“Yes, I-I might find it possible to love you.”

“Then let us begin tonight.”

Once more he saw fear in her eyes. Then she nodded and he led her to the bed.

She lay back, resting her head on the pillows, and he caressed her glossy black locks. Her eyes shone, like pale silver stars.

She was an angel.

And she was all his.

Her chemise clung to her body, revealing its softly rounded shape—the shapely legs, the flare of her hips. His gaze wandered along her form, taking in the delicate waist, her chest, and…

Oh Lord!

His mouth watered at the outline of her breasts and their little buds at the center that poked at the fabric. Would they be as gloriously pink as he imagined?

He reached for the hem of her chemise and she inhaled sharply. Then her lips lifted in a smile and she nodded encouragement, though the fear remained in her eyes.

Brave little flower.

Then he lifted her chemise to reveal her naked form, and almost spent at the sight.

Sweet heaven—they’re as pink as I hoped.

“My lord?”

He glanced up to see her watching him as he licked his lips.

“May I?” he whispered.

“You have no need to ask.”