“Yes. I apologize.” She lifted her shaking hands. “I’m anxious.”
Rory reached down at lifted the tie at her waist, studying the tight knots. He began pulling at one. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you or force you,” he said. He was close enough now to smell the scent of her soap, which must have had notes of mint, under that the scents of the sachets his housekeeper stored with the clothing, and then, very faintly, a scent that must have been hers. “I’m in no rush,” he said, which was one of the more blatant falsehoods he’d ever told. His fingers were desperate on that damn knot. “We could simply talk tonight and come to know each other better for a few days or weeks…”
“No!”
Her tone was so vehement that he looked up at her face. Her cheeks had gone crimson, her eyes wide with embarrassment.But Rory was even more aroused now as he realized the truth. “Youwantto lie with me.”
She closed her eyes. “This is mortifying.” She kept her eyes closed. “Of course I want to lie with you. Look at you. What woman wouldn’t want you?”
He could think of one woman, in particular, but for the moment he was speechless.
She opened her eyes. “I don’t understand whyyouwantme.”
Rory did smile then. Her situation was too ridiculous. He had been thinking all night that she didn’t want him, while she’d been worried he didn’t want her. “I wanted you the first time I saw you,” he said. “You have those eyes, that hair, and your gowns tease at a bottom I might someday see if I can ever get this blasted robe off.”
“I’m sorry. The nightrail is thin and transparent, and I didn’t want the robe to come open by accident.”
Thin and transparent. Rory felt his mouth go dry. “Is this your robe?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “I found it on the bed after my bath.”
“You have no attachment to it?” he murmured.
“Not particularly.”
“Good.” And he took the tie in both hands, tore the cloth, and watched as the robe fluttered open, revealing what was indeed a very thin, very transparent garment beneath.
Chapter Sixteen
Genevieve might havegasped if she’d had enough air in her lungs. As it was, Rory’s closeness—the heat of him, the faint scent of amber—made it hard for her to catch her breath. As soon as the robe opened, she felt her body reacting. Her skin tingled, her nipples hardened, and she felt an insistent throb between her legs. She wanted him to kiss her so her pink face wouldn’t be on display, but he simply stood in front of her, hands on the remains of the tie to her robe, staring at her nightrail. Was he pleased at what he could see—and she had no doubt he could see almost everything—or disappointed?
“Where did you find this?” he asked, finally releasing the tie to her robe then reaching up to push the outer garment off her shoulders.
“It was on the bed. I thought you had sent it.”
He shook his head. “No, but I’ll find out who did supply it and order a hundred more.” He looked into her eyes then reached around the tug her long plait over her shoulder. “May I?”
Genevieve wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to, but she nodded. He flicked the ribbon from the bottom of her braid, and she had a quick image of him loosening the tie of her nightrail, freeing her breasts. She shivered, and his gaze met hers again.
“I want your hair free,” he said by way of explanation.
Genevieve wanted what he wanted, even if she was thinking about all the tangles she’d have to deal with later. But then heuncoiled the last of her braid and ran a hand through her hair, and she forgot all about snarls and tangles. His hands in her hair felt good, especially when he slid his fingers along the back of her neck and cupped her head. He dipped his mouth, and she closed her eyes.
Finally.
His mouth skimmed hers, but Genevieve did not have the patience for teasing. She was so warm, and her body pulsed with need. She grabbed his robe and pulled him against her, feeling the heat of his body collide with her own. She slid her hands up his muscled arms to his broad shoulders and opened her mouth to lick at his lips. He parted for her, and she slid her tongue inside, tasting him as she pushed the robe off his shoulders to reveal his bare chest.
She’d been peeking at that V of flesh all night and known he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Now she was rewarded with the feel of his skin under her hands. She made a slow path down his chest, pausing at the center of his chest, where she felt the rapid thud of his heart. He really did want her. He couldn’t possibly want her as much as she wanted him, but that rapid heartbeat was evidence enough.
There might be other evidence, she thought, as she slid her hands lower. But before she could reach his trousers, he grasped her wrists and held them fast. She made a sound of disappointment, and his eyes widened. Immediately, she felt ashamed. “You must think me a terrible wanton.”
“I think you keep surprising me,” he said, breathless. “And I like it. I like it very much.”
“You do?”
“But I want to make sure you enjoy this night too, and if you keep on that path, it will be over far too quickly.”
Genevieve thought about reminding him that they had all night, but she bit her lip to keep from saying it.
