Earlier, she’d known what she needed.A man who shows me in every action what his intentions are.
He could do that. A courtship could be meandering and direct at the same time. He was sure of it.
He sat on the bed, and it squeaked beneath his weight, but still she did not hear. So he said, “Whatever it is you need, Emma, I’m the only man to help you to it.”
The yelp and the splash happened simultaneously, the silhouette of her body disappearing beneath the tub’s edge.
“Emma!” He shot to his feet and was halfway across the room when the top of her head appeared in silhouette once more, a bobbling lump of a shadow on the fire screen.
“No!” she barked. “Do not come closer! What are you doing?”
“Watching you.”
“Well, do not watch me. Leave!” She grumbled something that sounded likeindefensible load. Orreprehensible rogue. Surely not that.
“Are you sure you wish me to leave? I’d very much like to help you discover what you need, what you deserve.”
She groaned. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to know you are halfway between heaven and frustration in that tub. Have I been very wicked, Emma? Staying. And listening.”
“Wicked is not strong enough a word.”
“Naughty, then?”
Whatever she said was garbled by the water.
“I think I have been. But so have you, Emma. Touching yourself when you think no one is looking. Now let me help you.”How long had it been since he’d enjoyed an intimate encounter with a woman? Not long after he’d become a duke, he’d sunk into an unintentional life of celibacy. Had he really been without a woman for thirteen years? Might as well be a virgin again. He couldn’t even remember the names or faces or shapes of the women he’d slept with when young.
He certainly did not remember how to seduce. But he didn’t need to remember. Everything with Emma—teasing, talking, trusting, kissing—had come like breathing, natural and right. All he had to do now was… whatever occurred to him.
And what occurred to him was to strip the gentleman straight out of him, to leave bare the wild need, too long suppressed, that growled within.
To take the only woman he’d kissed in years, the only woman he’d wanted to kiss, and make her scream his name.
Resolve, intention, hardened him, made a promise within him. After over a decade of sacrifice, he would take something for himself.
He would take Emma as his own. In the name of courtship, naturally. Of the meandering sort…
Only a few steps took him to the edge of the fire screen, and he traced the top of it, traced the outline of the tub with his fingertips. He could peer over if he wished.
Not yet.
“You were touching yourself, weren’t you?” he asked, tracing and retracing the shadows of her wild curls poking up above the edge of the tub.
“No.” A bubble of a word.
“Come now, Emma. Tell the truth.”
“No.” He could not see her jaw set stubborn and low beneath the wavering line of water, but he heard it in her voice.
“Hm. I think I will be able to know the truth if I see you. I’ll just come around the screen, and—”
“Stay there, you…. you… youduke!”
He chuckled, peeled off his greatcoat, and threw it on top of a chair near the window. “If it pleases you, I’ll stay here, keep the screen between us. That satisfies me. For now. But you’ve still not answered my original question. Are you… were you… attempting to please yourself?”
“What in heaven’s name has gotten into you?”
