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She’d heard talk, of course. Had been forced to look away many times, for the men who’d hired her to squire for them in tournaments had often changed in front of her. But she’d henceforth managed to avoid this part of a man. Now, she did not want to avoid it. Rather, she wanted to know more.

“’Tis hard,” she said simply.

Her hand pressed on her own accord, and the sound Alex made deep in his throat forced her eyes to his.

“It hurts?” she asked.

“Not precisely.” He moved her hand away. “Let me show you.”

He reached down between them and cupped her in the same spot. None had ever touched her there before, and at first it felt curious and strange. Leaving his hand in place, Alex kissed her again. This time, his touch was gentle. He teased her lips with his tongue all while continuing to press against her.

When she began to press her hips toward his hand, he abruptly pulled away.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not. . . exactly,” she said. And then she understood. “You felt the same way when I touched you?”

“I did, lass.”

“And when I sleep next to you?”

“Aye, then too.”

“Because you desire me?”

“Very much.”

Clara smiled up at him. “It seems I desire you as well.”

“Aye, it does,” he said, smiling back.

“So what happens next?” She tried to make her voice sound as if she was unaffected—when in truth she was anything but.

“That, my fair English lass, is the question I’ve been asking myself since the moment you demanded to come with me.”

* * *

He was hard, throbbing, and very ready. He could reach out and take her, show Clara the joys of lovemaking. Alex had never wanted anything more in his life. Almost every instinct urged him to touch her bare skin once again, run his hands along her breasts, tease those taut peaks, and take them into his mouth.

But he could not. Would not.

“I wish that we could continue our lesson, but I’ll not take the virginity of a maid. A woman whose name I do not even know.”

“I do not understand how that matters,” she said, leaning into him.

Ah God, this was going to kill him.

“It matters a great deal.”

Clara reached down, grabbed her shirt, and pulled it over her head. “Not to me,” she said.

She turned from him then and found the blanket in the corner of the loft. After arranging it on the ground, she promptly curled up on it, pulled the second one over her, and ignored him.

That she’d known the blanket was there, ready for the next guest to make use of it, proved she had taken refuge in more than one stable in her life. Disappointment coursed through him, but he did not go to her. No matter how much he wanted her, this was for the best.

As a second son, he was free to marry whomever he liked. But though he might desire her, though he certainly admired her, he could not take Clara to wife. It would break him if another woman he loved ran from him, and Clara had proven on more than one occasion that she had an inclination to do just that. She’d run from Toren at Bristol. She’d run from him after he’d discovered her secret. Nay, he would not be taking this woman as his bride so she could leave at the first sign of trouble. Which meant he would not be taking her innocence, either.

Alex climbed down the stairs, found their steeds, and pulled a bedroll from the saddlebag. Returning to the loft, he unfurled the bedroll well away from Clara and prepared for sleep.