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For all the longing that simmered between them, they had gone no further than stolen kisses. She wanted more. She knew he did too.

"At this very moment," she said softly, unable to suppress her smile, "I'm rather hoping to be thoroughly distracted by my husband."

His quiet chuckle vibrated through his chest against her back.

“That,” he murmured, “sounds considerably more truthful.” He turned her in his arms until her front was pressed against his, drawing a contented sigh from her before he lowered his head and kissed her. His hands slipped to her bottom and, with seemingly little effort, he lifted her from the floor. Two short strides carried them to the library drawing table, where he settled her upon its edge.

“Please,” she heard herself rasp.

Good heavens. Had that truly been her voice? Was she actually begging?

Arthur apparently required no further encouragement. His hands travelled along her thighs, easing them apart as he stepped between them. For one breathless moment he remained there, his gaze fixed upon hers, before slowly moving her skirts and lowering himself before her, his hands using her thighs as anchors.

Oh.

The last remnants of her embarrassment vanished beneath the intensity of his attention. His mouth no longer danced leisurely up her thigh, almost fearful of interruption; instead his lips found her, and Eliza gasped at the contact, her hands immediately searching for something—anything—to hold on to.

A warm tongue coaxed her methodically into a haze. So this was what Cecily had been writing about.

Every coherent thought scattered. There was only Arthur, the maddening attention of his mouth, the firm pressure of his hands holding her thighs apart, and the strange tension gathering somewhere deep within her. Delicious, certainly. Frightening too, if only because she had no idea what waited for her on the other side of it.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the table.

“Please.” Eliza heard herself beg again.

She did not recognise her own voice. Nor did she know precisely what she was pleading for. More? An end to the torment? Whatever Arthur understood from it seemed sufficient. The answering sound he made beneath her sent another shiver racing through her, and her fingers tightened against the table’s edge.

Something began to gather low in her stomach, a sensation she could neither name nor control. Her back arched of its own accord, startled cries escaping her lips as the tension wound tighter and tighter.

And then it broke.

She cried out, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. Arthur’s grip upon her thighs remained firm, holding her steady as she shuddered against his tongue, his mouth never leaving her until the last trembling wave finally began to ebb and she collapsed backwards against the table, breathless and utterly spent.

His lips brushed gently against her inner thigh before he finally rose.

When she finally summoned the strength to open her eyes, Arthur’s were darker than she had ever seen them.

Her body felt wonderfully loose as she lay upon the table, her breathing still uneven. For several moments she watched the ceiling, too content to move, before slowly pushing herself upright.

Arthur still stood before her, and a slow, satisfied smile found her lips, though her gaze wandered for only a moment to the bulge in his breeches before returning to his face.

"Can I help?" she asked quietly, biting her lip. He gave a small shake of his head. Taking both of her hands, he lifted them to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to each in turn.

"You can help me," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers, "by telling me what you were doing in here." She laughed softly. He would never be one to give in.

"I had assumed you were searching for another copy of Aristotle," he continued with a teasing smile.

“In fact, I came to remind you of my promise to give you an education.”

Her smile widened as though she required reminding. The memory of being pinned between Arthur and the bookshelves in his office remained remarkably vivid.

“It was a very thorough lesson,” she conceded. “Far better than anything I found in those books.” Her smile widened another fraction. “I should quite like another.”

"That pleases me," Arthur said, his thumb idly stroking the back of her hand, "though back to your actual purpose in the library?"

"I did begin with every intention of finding a book," she admitted. "You simply assumed the wrong book."

"I was afraid that might be the case," Arthur admitted.