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John pulled her upward until they were nearly nose to nose. “I would be happy to share my knowledge on the subject with you,” he said.

Her golden-brown eyes widened. “Now?”

“Aye.”

“Not just for one night?”

John had to pause before answering, astonished by a new kind of happiness that rampaged and stampeded through him, rearranging all his interior furniture.

“From now on,” he said, “all my nights are yours.”

A blinding smile spread across Reina’s face. “I’ll want some of the days too,” she said.

He sought her mouth with a smothered laugh, and she curled her arms around his neck.

For a long time, there were no words.

Finally his lips broke from hers and wandered down to the soft hollow at the base of her throat. When he found the throb of her pulse, he touched his tongue to it and breathed against the damp spot. Reina trembled and writhed, the friction teasing him to a dangerous flashpoint.

Breathing unevenly, John closed his hands over her hips and gripped them in place. “Wait, Reina,” he said unsteadily. “I want you too much. Be still, and let me calm down—”

Her fingers came to rest on his lips, silencing him.

“You’re speaking in Welsh,” she whispered.

John struggled to think past the heavy fog of desire. “Fuck,” he muttered.

Reina let out a breath of amusement. “That word I understood.”

“I’m sorry, cariad,” he said ruefully. “In moments of forgetting myself, I can’t help lapsing into Welsh.”

“I don’t mind at all. It’s lovely.” She leaned her forehead against his. “But if you were about to explain why you want to stop making love to me, you’ll have to switch to a language I can argue in.”

“I only want to give your body more time to be ready. It’s not something to be rushed through, but to enjoy.” He caressed her arms through the sleeves of the wrapper and took one of her hands in his. “Come with me.”

The bedroom was full of deeply banked shadows relieved by occasional flickers of firelight that tiptoed across the floor.

Reina’s stomach swooped as she realized it was really happening—they were going to sleep together. The sight of John stripping off his shirt threw her heartbeat into anarchy. He was sleek and powerful, a healthy male in full vigor. And he was hers.

He smiled slightly and approached without haste, letting her look her fill. Hesitantly she reached out to touch the dark fleece of his chest hair.

As John felt the trembling of her fingers, he gave her a questioning glance.

“I’m a bit nervous,” Reina said sheepishly.

He pulled her close and crushed his mouth against her head. “Sweet love,” he said after a moment, “a single word from you will stop me at any moment. You’ll remember that, aye?”

“Yes, but . . . it’s not that, it’s . . . I want to do this well, or at least not ruin it with some appalling mistake.”

Gently he eased her face upward. “There’s nothing you need worry about. It’s only the two of us spending a bit of time together, away from the rest of the world.” His free hand went to the row of red glass buttons on her wrapper. “Here with me, you don’t have to know any answers or solve any problems. You don’t have to be perfect . . . or responsible . . . or strong.” As he spoke, a button slipped free of its mooring, and another, until the garment began to list open. “All you have to do is relax, stop thinking, and let me find ways to pleasure you.”

“Yes. I will indeed.” Reina nearly cringed as she heard how stilted her reply was. Blast. Trying to sound more relaxed, she added, “Thank you.” Oh God, even worse.

A smile shaped against her hair. “I’ve my own nerves to mind,” he said. “It’s been long now, since I’ve gone to bed with anyone.”

“Has it? But what would you have to be nervous about?”

“If a man doesn’t satisfy his partner, she probably won’t want to do it again.”