Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

A fter telling her mother that she was going to spend the afternoon with her friends to hopefully cheer herself, Gwen was now on her way to Min’s father’s house in Grosvenor Square. Her mother had felt badly about taking her to the ball last night, saying she should have realized the gossip would be bad.

Gwen hadn’t seen her father, for he’d left the ball at some point last night and gone to his club. Then today, she’d kept to her chamber until leaving for Min’s.

The Duke of Henlow’s London residence was one of the largest in the square, with several columns decorating the facade. Gwen had not yet reached the door before it was opened by a young footman in pristine maroon livery.

Inside the entry hall, the butler, who appeared stuffy but never failed to greet Gwen warmly, took her hat and gloves then directed her up to Min’s sitting room. Located on the second floor, it was connected to her bedchamber. They preferred to meet there instead of the drawing room because they would not be disturbed.

Decorated in varying shades of pink with an abundance of floral motifs, the sitting room boasted extreme femininity. Min hadn’t had a hand in decorating it, however. It was due entirely to her mother. Min found it a bit overdone.

Everyone was already there—Min, Ellis, Tamsin, and even Jo. Gwen hadn’t thought to invite her, but obviously someone had. They all rose when Gwen entered.

“We are so sorry this has happened, Gwen,” Min said, rushing to hug her. The rest of them took turns embracing her, including Jo, who was last.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m here,” Jo said. “Min invited me.”

“Not at all. I am overjoyed, in fact. You are one of us now,” Gwen added with a smile.

They took their seats, and Gwen knew she had to tell them about Miss Worsley. She’d tried to think of how to explain, but there was simply no good way. She’d also contemplated whether she should have told Tamsin first—separately—since Lazarus was her cousin.

Gwen took a deep breath before speaking. “I know you all think the gossip about Somerton and me is the reason for my distress, but it’s more than that.”

“Min and Ellis said you seemed upset after some young woman badgered you to speak with her,” Tamsin said.

“Yes, my conversation with her was most upsetting,” Gwen said softly. “Her name is Miss Melissa Worsley. Her grandfather is the Viscount Haverstock.”

“My father knows him,” Min said, wrinkling her nose. “And from the way he speaks of him, I’d say I’m disinclined to like him.”

“Why is that?” Jo asked.

Min pressed her lips together. “Because my father speaks highly of him. That typically doesn’t recommend a person.”

Jo grimaced.

“Why did Miss Worsley wish to speak with you?” Tamsin asked. She was seated to Gwen’s right.

Gwen angled her body toward her. “I should probably have told you this privately as it involves your cousin, and I’m afraid it’s disturbing news.”

Tamsin’s features creased. “What did she say?”

Clearing her throat of the cobwebs that had suddenly formed, Gwen addressed everyone. “Miss Worsley is expecting a child, and she says Somerton is the father.”

Everyone spoke at once, and Gwen heard none of what they said. She held up a hand. “Please let me finish, and then you can ask me questions, though I doubt I’ll be able to answer them. She said they met at a party last autumn and that she only told him of the babe the day before yesterday because she’d been ill. She indicated she hadn’t realized she was carrying. She blamed naivete.”

“How does one not know?” Ellis asked. “Your courses cease. I would think one would notice that.”

“Perhaps she was ill enough that she didn’t realize?” Gwen suggested.

“Or she could have thought her illness was the reason she wasn’t having them,” Jo said. “I was very sick when I was younger—only a year or two after I started bleeding. I missed my courses for a few months.”

“I can’t believe Somerton would do that,” Tamsin said quietly. “He can be roguish, but he has never dallied with young unmarried ladies. Never ever. My grandmother has mentioned her relief about that many times.”

That was the man Gwen wanted to believe he was. “I’ve no idea what happened, but she claims he is the father.”

“Why on earth did she want to tell you about it?” Min asked.

“Because she heard the gossip about me and Somerton and wanted to ask me to step aside so that he would marry her. When she informed him of the babe the other day, he did not immediately offer for her.”

“That tells me it isn’t his child,” Tamsin said with a certainty that Gwen wished she shared. Why didn’t she?

Because he’d known about the child and hadn’t told her. Instead, he’d tried to push her away, then asked her to wait for him. He should have told her. That he didn’t prompted suspicion and doubt.

“I don’t think it’s his child either,” Jo announced, drawing everyone’s attention. “I know something of Miss Worsley. I hear a great many things at the Siren’s Call and at the literary salons. Last autumn, she fell in love with her dancing master. Her parents had to pay him to never speak of it.”

Gwen immediately thought of Mr. Tremblay. But that would be quite a coincidence. “Do you know the dancing master’s name?”

“Mr. Tremblay,” Jo replied. “He’s very attractive. I’ve seen him myself. He is purportedly quite familiar with his students.”

“I can confirm that,” Gwen said. “My mother engaged his services, and I had two lessons with him before I told her I could not continue. He flirted with me constantly and touched me inappropriately. I believe most firmly that if I’d shown even a modicum of interest, we could have had an affair.” She stared at Jo. “Do you suppose that is what happened between him and Miss Worsley?”

“I think it’s entirely possible. What if the child she is carrying belongs to the dancing master?”

“Her family wouldn’t want her to marry someone like him,” Min said. “They’d rather she wed a wealthy, attractive viscount.”

“With a rakish reputation,” Tamsin put in, sounding disgusted. “What a horrible thing to do. I can only imagine how Somerton felt being accused of such a thing.”

Gwen recalled the tension and distress he’d carried yesterday. He’d likely felt trapped. Here was this woman claiming he’d fathered her child, and he was in love with another woman he hoped to wed. Still, there was likely a reason he was in this situation. “Why would Miss Worsley accuse him unless there was a possibility that he could be the father? He had to have bedded her.” She looked at Tamsin with concern even while her heart was crumbling into bits.

“He must have,” Ellis said softly, her gaze falling on Gwen with sadness and sympathy.

Gwen couldn’t keep the sob from breaking through her lips. She clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh, Gwen, you have a tendre for him,” Min said. “This has to be so hard.”

“It’s more than that.” Gwen struggled to draw breath. “I love him. And…he loves me.”

There were several gasps, and Gwen fought against the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. Tamsin turned fully toward her and reached to clasp her hand tightly.

“Just last night at the ball, he said he loved me,” Gwen said. “And he asked me not to marry Markwith.”

“He didn’t tell you about Miss Worsley?” Min asked.

Gwen shook her head.

“He wouldn’t have wanted you to know,” Tamsin said.

Min looked at Gwen with sympathy. “This makes him the very definition of a rogue—one we cannot marry and who cannot be reformed as Wellesbourne and Isaac have been.”

“I need to see him,” Gwen said with great conviction. “I need to know the truth about Miss Worsley—from him. And I may be betrothed to Markwith as soon as tomorrow.”

Jo nodded. “Then you must see Somerton today.” She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. Her brow creased as she appeared to be thinking.

Min shook her head. “She can’t see him. Not with these rumors racing about.”

“She’ll need a disguise,” Jo said. “And I will find out what I can about Mr. Tremblay and Miss Worsley. Someone has to know something.”

“You would do that?” Gwen asked, blinking away the moisture that had clung to her lashes but not fallen as tears.

“If only because I’m dead curious,” Jo said with a laugh. “But I imagine you would like to know the truth, as would Somerton, I’m sure. If he is not the father, this has to be eating at him horribly.”

Gwen agreed. And when she thought about his behavior, it seemed this could be possible. She was incredibly eager to speak with him.

Min was frowning. “I still don’t think it’s wise for Gwen to see Somerton. Not with all that is happening.”

“But that’s precisely why I need to.” Gwen would not be deterred. “Everything is moving quickly, and I can’t afford to wait and see what happens.” She looked to Jo. “Do you have a disguise in mind?”

“It depends on what Min has available. I’d prefer to dress you as a young man, if possible.” Jo tossed a smile toward Min. “I don’t suppose you have anything like that.”

“I do,” Ellis said, prompting everyone to swing their attention to her. She shrugged. “Sometimes, I dress up like a man and go for a walk. It’s easier that way.” She glanced at Min. “Min knows.”

Min nodded. “You should see Somerton if you feel that strongly. I’m only concerned for your reputation and welfare.”

“I know, and I appreciate that so much. But I do feel strongly—I love Lazarus.” She decided she could use his name with her friends.

“Then you must do everything in your power to ensure a future with him, especially since he apparently loves you too,” Min said.

Jo gave Gwen a knowing smile. “He does. I’ve seen them together, and it’s rather obvious. I’ve also seen him without her, and he’s a mopey mess.”

“He mopes?” Tamsin asked, incredulous.

“He’s downright despondent,” Jo confirmed. “But he’s also a clueless man. I do believe I had to point out that he was perhaps having romantic feelings unlike any he’d ever had before.”

This provoked everyone to laugh, including Gwen. How she would have loved to have heard that conversation. “He is my clueless man,” Gwen said. “At least, I hope he will be.”

Jo stood. “Let us assemble your costume. You need to be on your way. Presumably, you can say you were here all afternoon to account for the time you are with Somerton?”

“Yes, I’ll do that.” Gwen had indicated to her mother that she would be occupied all afternoon.

Ellis rose and went to the door. “Follow me, then. My chamber is at the end of the corridor.”

Before Gwen could reach the door, Jo clasped her hand briefly. “All will be well. I’ll find out what I can about Tremblay and Miss Worsley as soon as possible.”

Gwen embraced her tightly. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Jo patted her back. “I’m glad to help. I can’t thank you enough for including me in your group of friends. I’ve never…belonged to anything like this.”

“We are a sisterhood,” Gwen said. “And now you are one of us.” She linked her arm through Jo’s, and they made their way to Ellis’s chamber.

A fter Mrs. Worsley left, Lazarus would have contemplated drinking a great deal of smuggled whisky, but since learning of Miss Worsley’s child, he’d decided he was much better off not ever being inebriated again. Instead, he’d tried to distract himself with reading. Because that also made him feel closer to Gwen.

He sat at his desk and worked through the exercise she’d given him yesterday, reading it over and over until he did so with ease and relative speed. He realized he’d begun to memorize it, so it had probably lost its efficacy.

Perhaps he should try reading something else. And he could mark it the way she did. Why not?

He went to the bookcase and searched for something to use. His book collection was terrible. Winterstoke had a marvelous library, owing to his father, but here in town, Lazarus hadn’t kept much. He’d sent entire bookcases to the country. Now, he wished he hadn’t.

“Papa, you would be so pleased with my progress,” he murmured. “And you would love Gwen.”

Mrs. Worsley’s mention of his father had carved a hole in Lazarus’s chest. He wanted to make his father proud. And he realized now that his roguish behavior had countered that objective. Lazarus also realized that he’d sought solace in those actions to dull the pain of losing his father. He’d been focusing on the wrong things.

No longer. He would master reading and dedicate himself to a more substantial role in the Lords. And, if he were very fortunate, he would marry Gwen. Not that he deserved her. He’d behaved worse than a rogue.

He’d risked her reputation with their foolish scheme, not to mention his behavior at the literary salon and at the ball last night. He’d also risked his cousin’s and friend’s reputations. It didn’t matter that his reasons hadn’t been scandalous. They’d been selfish.

A knock on the door jolted him from his self-recrimination. Lazarus responded, “Come.”

His butler stepped just over the threshold. “You’ve a caller, my lord. A young man who wishes to provide you with some information.”

“About what?” Lazarus didn’t have time for nonsense. What young man?

“He did not say.”

“Did he give you a card?”

“No, but he said his name was Gawain Price.”

Lazarus nearly laughed at the first name, but the surname made him freeze. “Thank you, Harris,” he breathed, moving past the butler with a deft speed. He stalked to the entrance hall and saw the slender young man. His costume was ill fitting, and to Lazarus, he looked no more like a male than London was a quiet, sedate place.

“Follow me,” Lazarus said, leading Gwen up the stairs. Where was he taking her? His study might have sufficed. Instead, he led her to the drawing room. And closed the door as soon as she was inside.

She’d moved into the interior, away from him so he couldn’t immediately pull her to him. “I was afraid you wouldn’t see me.”

“With a name like Gawain Price, how could I not?” He took two steps toward her but paused. Her expression was a mix of eagerness and something much darker. “Why have you come? And dressed like that?” As much as he loved seeing her in splendid gowns, he had to admit the shape of her legs encased in breeches was a stirring sight. But then he suspected she could wear a grain sack and be every bit as appealing.

“I needed to see you today.” She spoke softly, almost haltingly. “I don’t know how to broach this topic, so I shall just come out with it. Will you please tell me about Miss Melissa Worsley?”

Lazarus exhaled, his entire body just…wilting like a cut flower left without water. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ever need to find out about her.” His voice was low, as agonized as he felt—not for himself, but for her.

“I wish you had told me.” Lines creased out from her eyes, and he couldn’t miss the sadness they held.

“I am horrified by my actions. I couldn’t bear how you would see me, for the rogue I truly am.”

“You bedded her, then? Her child is yours?”

Did she doubt it? Lazarus was overwhelmed with gratitude—and surprise that she would give him that benefit when he surely didn’t deserve it.

“I did not bed her,” he replied sharply. “We met at a fox-hunting party at her grandfather’s house. Gwen, you must know that I would never—I have never—bedded a young, unmarried lady. And I would certainly never do so in her grandfather’s house.” And yet, he’d done improper things with Gwen, a young, unmarried woman. Whom he’d been purportedly helping to find a husband who wasn’t him.

He wiped his hand over his face, setting aside the turmoil inside him so he could say what needed to be said. “I was very inebriated one night at the party. I’d gone to a pub with Sheff, and the innkeeper shared his smuggled whisky. I don’t remember most of what happened afterward. I couldn’t say with absolute certainty that I hadn’t been with Miss Worsley—I just knew in my soul that I had not. That I could not.”

“I know that too,” Gwen said softly, again surprising him. “But I do wish you had told me. I know you are a rogue. I’ve embraced that about you, haven’t I?”

She had agreed to meet with him privately, and she had accompanied him to a literary salon while wearing a disguise. And she’d thrown caution out the window when she’d kissed him, on multiple occasions. “I’ve corrupted you,” he croaked. “I never meant to risk your reputation or cause you distress. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, stop that,” she said, her lips pursing. “I am not corrupted. I am merely in love. With a rogue.”

An unstoppable smile lifted his lips. “I shall never tire of hearing you say that. How did you learn of Miss Worsley’s claim?”

“She approached me at the ball last night.”

Now, Lazarus moved close to her. “She did not dare.”

“She absolutely did. She also dared to ask me to step aside so you would marry her, as if I were the only obstacle in her way. She’d heard the rumor about us having an affair.”

“What did you tell her?” Lazarus’s breath caught.

“That I wouldn’t be able to move you to do anything. You will do as you choose. I did say I would try to use my influence to persuade you to do the right thing.”

“I hope the right thing is choosing you, because that’s what I want,” he said, curling his arm around her waist and pulling her against him.

“And I choose you. However, you have a problem in that there will be a scandal if you don’t offer for Miss Worsley. And we are currently embroiled in a scandal of a purported liaison between us. Furthermore, Markwith will return tomorrow, and I expect his proposal will be imminent.”

“Then it seems we must obtain a special license and marry immediately or run away to Gretna Green. I’ve no preference.”

She giggled, then quickly sobered. “We can’t do either, and you well know that. You need the problem with Miss Worsley to go away before it becomes a scandal. I fear my parents will not want me to marry someone who is accused of fathering Miss Worsley’s child.”

“Shefford has sent a man to Haverstock Hall to interview the retainer who attended me during the party to learn what he recollects about that night. He will also speak with the innkeeper where Sheff and I spent a good portion of the night in question. I am hopeful both will be able to provide me with an alibi. Sheff remembers that night—he never drinks himself into oblivion—and says we returned to Haverstock Hall just before dawn. So, the opportunity for me to have been with her at all is quite scant.”

Relief cleansed her expression for a moment. “Brilliant, but when will Sheff’s man return?”

“Therein lies the problem, for the Worsleys want me to make my offer of marriage tomorrow, and I can’t imagine Sheff’s man will return until the day after that.”

“This all sounds very promising, though the timing is not,” she said. “I’m pleased to report, however, that we are working on another angle—determining the actual father of Miss Worsley’s child.”

Lazarus gripped her upper arms, excitement coursing through him. “How on earth can you do that?”

“As it happens, I met with my friends earlier, and Jo was aware of an interesting situation. Last fall, my most recent dancing master, Mr. Tremblay, was instructing Miss Worsley. She apparently fell in love with him, and her parents paid him to never speak of it.” Gwen put her hand on his chest. “Now, I can speak from experience that Mr. Tremblay is attractive, flirtatious, and rather free with his hands. I believe if I’d wanted to have an affair with him, it would have been most welcome.”

Fury tore through Lazarus. “What did he do to you with his hands?” He thought of the many ways he could break them.

“Nothing too terrible, just a stray fingertip here and a wandering caress there.” She touched Lazarus’s cheek. “Goodness, but you look ready to commit something nefarious.”

“I will ensure he doesn’t touch a young lady without her consent ever again.”

“My knight,” Gwen whispered before brushing her lips against his. “Jo is doing her best to learn the truth of what happened between him and Miss Worsley—quickly. She is also responsible for my disguise today. Do you approve?” She stepped away from him and turned in a circle. Lifting the tails of the coat, she wiggled her backside. “I do feel rather exposed, or I would if the coat didn’t cover me.”

“I heartily approve. Of everything about you. How can you love a rogue like me?” She was too generous. Too pure. Too far above him.

Facing him, she pursed her lips for a moment. “How can I not? You have been the kindest, most gallant gentleman I’ve ever met. You’ve given me unforgettable memories I never dreamed were possible. I was the queen of a ball!” The joy in her features made him want to sweep her into his arms and spin them both around until they were dizzy with laughter. “You stepped in to save me, to protect me when no one else ever has. Not even my parents, whom I love very much. They’ve done their best, but I’ve always known that I fall short. I don’t feel that way with you. You make me feel like I’m enough.”

Lazarus could scarcely breathe. How could anyone think that about her? “You are perfect.” He dropped to his knees before her and took her hand. “Marry me, Gwen. At the earliest possible moment, please be my wife.”

“I will.” A wide, beatific smile lit her face, and Lazarus knew he would never live up to her brilliance. But he would spend every moment trying.

She tugged at his hand, and he rose to take her in his arms. Then he kissed her. Thoroughly. Passionately. With all the love in his heart.

Gwen pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I don’t want to go yet. Where is your bedchamber?”

Lazarus swallowed. She couldn’t be asking what he thought she was asking. “You must know that I am extremely against debauching unmarried young ladies.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Since I will be your wife, I don’t see the problem with it. But I don’t wish to cause you discomfort.”

Though Lazarus wasn’t sure he could refuse her, he was overwhelmingly aware of his inappropriate behavior with her. If he was trying to reform himself, this was probably not the way to do it. And yet, they loved one another. They were also betrothed, and he would move heaven and earth to ensure they wed. “Forgive my hesitation, but I am trying to be a better man—the man you deserve and not the rogue I’ve been.”

She took his hand. “You are the very best man I could hope for. That you want to change your behavior makes me absolutely giddy. However, I also can’t refute the fact that I fell in love with who you are . So, to put you at ease, I insist you take me to your bedchamber.” She gave him a smile that went from teasing to sultry in the blink of an eye, and Lazarus was lost.

He led her to the door, which he opened carefully. Looking to make sure no one was about, he guided her past the staircase to the back of the house where his chamber was located.

Opening the door, he gestured for her to move inside. She did so, releasing his hand and removing her hat as she looked around his bedchamber.

Lazarus nearly groaned at the image of her in his most private space. He’d imagined her here, in his bed, but he’d never actually thought it might come to pass.

Latching the door, he moved toward her. He took her hat and sailed it somewhere to his left. He cupped her face and brushed his thumb over an errant lock of hair that had dislodged when she’d taken off the hat.

“Jo provided these clothes?” he asked, surveying her simply knotted cravat and mundane waistcoat. Everything was brown, save the white shirt and cravat.

“Not Jo, exactly, but I am lucky to have use of them. I was desperate to see you as soon as possible.”

“I’m so glad you did. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Miss Worsley. I was ashamed of my behavior. Though I was certain I couldn’t have done what she claimed, the fact that I couldn’t know with complete certainty is abominable. I’ve sworn off drinking alcohol like that. Never again will I lose my ability to see and think clearly. And remember what I’ve done.”

She put her hands on his shoulders. “You mustn’t chastise yourself too severely.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I had already planned to ask you to marry me—it’s why I went to the park the other day. But before I could find you, Miss Worsley spilled her accusations. If not for my terrible behavior, we would have been betrothed before now. Before Eberforce was able to spread his ridiculous nonsense.”

“Except no one will think it’s nonsense once our betrothal is announced.” She grimaced faintly. “I suppose they will likely think you were beholden to marry me. Not that it matters what people think.”

Lazarus resolved to ensure the entire world knew precisely why he was marrying Gwen—because he was utterly and completely mad for her, and that his love knew no bounds.

Gwen’s lips as they curved into a smile. “You’d planned to propose at the park?”

He nodded. “Would you have said yes?”

“Probably not. It seems I needed a scandal or two to persuade me.” She laughed softly. “Of course I would have said yes. Now, help me with these garments, since you are far more versed with them than I.”

There was something almost sinfully erotic about disrobing her from gentleman’s clothes. Lazarus’s cock, already hard, twitched as he thought of peeling the breeches from her hips.

“Let us start with our boots.” He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed where he set her on the edge.

He sat down beside her and pulled off his own boots, letting them fall to the floor. “Shall I help you?”

She tugged one off. “They are large, so they come off easily.” The second one followed. “Stockings next?”

“Yes, but I find I’d like to remove yours, if you don’t mind.” Again, the act of removing the clothing from her was playing merry hell with his anticipation. He hurriedly removed his stockings then slid from the bed to stand before her.

“I don’t mind,” she said, sounding a bit breathless.

Lazarus slipped his fingers up beneath the hem of her breeches and found the top of the stocking. Then he pulled the garment slowly down her calf, exposing her flesh to his hungry gaze. Her feet were small and elegant.

She wiggled her toes. “Hard to believe this appendage can cause so much havoc on the dance floor, isn’t it?”

A laugh burst forth from him, and Lazarus’s love for her somehow grew. “It’s not that bad.” He moved to her right leg and performed the same task.

“You’re correct. My right foot is far more egregious.”

“Stop,” he said, laughing again. “I don’t like it when you denigrate yourself.”

“Your laughter says otherwise. Anyway, it doesn’t bother me that I’m clumsy, at least not with you. Because you’ve never cared.”

He met her gaze as he moved to stand between her legs. “And I never will.” He kissed her, his mouth opening over hers as she met his tongue with her own.

She clutched at his neck and shoulders as he thrust his fingers into her hair, dislodging her hairpins. Breaking the kiss, she reached up and plucked them free. “I’ll need these later.” She handed them to him, and he placed them carefully on the small table beside the bed. “You’ve a book there,” she noted.

He nodded. “I read before bed now, even if it’s just one page. Though, I’ve been somewhat distracted these past few days. I was actually looking for a book in my study when you arrived. I’d planned to make my own reading exercise.”

Gwen grabbed his lapels and pulled him back to her. “Have you any idea how arousing that is?” She kissed him fiercely and pressed her palms against his chest.

Awkwardly, Lazarus kept kissing her as he worked to remove his coat, letting it fall behind him. Then he pushed hers from her shoulders and drew it away, throwing it behind him.

He paused, his gaze fixing on the fall of her dark waves as her unfettered hair fell past her shoulders. He brushed it back from her face with both hands and kissed her again. Bringing his hands down her neck, he unknotted her cravat and slipped the silk from her collar.

The shirt gapped open, revealing a tantalizing triangle of her flesh. He kissed down her throat and feasted on what was now exposed to him. He wanted to devour every inch of her. Which meant he needed to get her garments off with utmost speed.

He went to work on the buttons of her waistcoat, slipping them open with an eager intensity. Then he realized, she was mirroring his actions and unbuttoned his waistcoat at the same time. They each shrugged their garments off, and Lazarus took them both so he could drop them somewhere out of their way.

Her shirt was too large, as all the garments had been, but the neckline was low enough that he could see her breasts were bound against her chest. She’d had help with this disguise. From someone who knew what they were doing.

Desperate to see and taste her, Lazarus pulled the shirt from the top of her breeches and drew it over her head. She lifted her arms, and he glimpsed the rise of her breasts at the top of the binding.

She reached behind herself and pulled the fabric, a light muslin, loose, unwrapping it around her front.

“Let me,” he said softly, taking the end of the muslin and unwinding it around her. Using both hands, he worked quickly, until the fabric fell from her chest. He glanced at it briefly, thinking it would come in handy when their bed sport progressed, but there would be plenty of time for adventures together. He looked forward to every moment.

Her breasts were high and round, larger than he’d anticipated. He stared at the dark rose nipples and licked along his lower lip.

“You are unbelievably beautiful.” He cupped her breasts, dragging his thumbs back and forth across her nipples. They lengthened and pebbled at his touch.

Moaning softly, she closed her eyes as he continued to caress her. She was so responsive, not at all shy or hesitant. Still, he wanted her to feel safe and secure with him.

“Gwen, are you certain you wish me to continue? You must stop me at any moment if want that.”

Her eyes opened as she clasped his hips, pulling him tightly against the bed between her legs. “I will not stop you. I want you, Lazarus. Now. Please. Make me yours.”