As they neared the end of day three of their journey, Diana sent up a silent prayer for a repeat of the accommodations they’d enjoyed last night in Northampton—two beds! After the prior night when they’d shared a bed in Luton and she’d awakened pressed to his side with only the meager rolled-up blanket between them, she’d been incredibly grateful for her own space. She doubted she’d be so fortunate again tonight, but she could hope.

The coach rolled into the yard of the Jolly Goat, and Diana arched her back against the squab.

“You’re an excellent traveler,” Romsey remarked. “You never complain.”

“That’s not something I was ever allowed to do.” She wanted to take the words back because they were too revealing.

“Your upbringing was rather strict.” It wasn’t a question but an observation.

He didn’t know the half of it. “Yes. You don’t complain about traveling either.”

“I travel quite a bit.”

“You said you like it,” she said, watching him stretch his legs and arms. “Where have you been?”

He relaxed his limbs as the coach came to a stop. “All over England, Wales, and Scotland. I’m planning to spend the summer in Ireland.”

“I’ve never been there. Maybe that’s where I should go and disappear.”

He arched a brow at her in the gray afternoon light spilling in through the window just before Tinley opened the door. “Is that what you’ve decided to do?”

She shook her head as she pulled the wool blanket off her legs. “No. I’m still mulling.”

“And you still have time,” he said pleasantly before turning and stepping down from the coach.

He reached up and offered her his hand. She slipped her gloved fingers into his and tried not to think of how much time they were spending together or what would happen if anyone knew of their scandalous journey.

By now, her father would be well on his way to King’s Grange. Once he learned she wasn’t there, what would he do? More importantly, what was Diana going to do?

She’d meant what she’d told Romsey—she was still mulling. For now, she had to admit she was enjoying this reprieve. Never had she been able to go about her day without asking for permission for everything or having her every choice and movement thoroughly scrutinized. And often criticized. It was, in a word, heaven. She wasn’t sure she could go back to her life, not after this. Yet the idea of leaving it—and everyone she’d ever known—behind forever was rather daunting.

As she stepped onto the hard earth, Romsey frowned. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the inn and the other vehicles in the yard. “It looks crowded.”

“Should we go somewhere else?” she asked.

The duke looked at his coachman, who shook his head. “I didn’t see anything else for the last mile, and it’s getting dark quickly. I think this is our best bet.”

“I agree,” Romsey said. He cast Diana a hopeful look. “We’ll be fine. Let’s get inside.” As if to hurry them along, a brisk wind blew against them, icing Diana’s spine.

He clasped her elbow and guided her quickly into the inn, where they were summarily greeted by a rather grouchy innkeeper.

“We’re full,” he said, clearly harassed. His dark, bushy brows nearly met across his forehead. He barely spared them a glance but said, “I’ve a larger room you can share with another couple, provided they don’t mind. I’ll go and speak to them.”

While he lumbered his rather large frame across the common room, Diana turned to Romsey. “Share a room?”

“It’s not uncommon. I’ve done it,” he said with a shrug.

She pursed her lips. “Well, I haven’t.” Then again, she hadn’t done anything.

“Let’s just wait and see what happens. There’s no sense getting upset until we know what we’re dealing with.”

The innkeeper caught their eye and waved for them to come over to the table where he stood. The occupants of said table were a young couple—an apple-cheeked blonde beauty and her dark-haired, blue-eyed husband who wore a wide grin. Or maybe it wasn’t her husband. Maybe they were on a scandalous journey like Diana and the duke.

Diana and the duke. That sounded like the name of a horrid novel. And perhaps one Diana would like to read. If she were allowed to read them.

The innkeeper nodded at Diana and Romsey. “These are them.” He turned his attention to the duke. “Mr. and Mrs. Ogden said you can have the pallet in front of the fire and pay a third of the fee.”

A third! For a pallet while they had the bed? What would they offer if they knew Romsey was a duke? Of course, she couldn’t tell them.

“That would be excellent,” Romsey said. He inclined his head toward the Ogdens. “Thank you kindly.”

“They’ve already paid,” the innkeeper continued. “So go ahead and pay them, plus I’ll need an extra charge for having additional people.”

“Of course.” Romsey didn’t bat an eye as he paid what the innkeeper demanded and then paid the Ogdens.

“Dinner’s in about an hour,” the innkeeper said gruffly before bustling off.

“Charming fellow,” Diana muttered.

“What’s that?” Mr. Ogden asked, leaning forward.

Diana smiled. “Nothing at all. Thank you for sharing your room with us.”

Mrs. Ogden nodded toward the empty chairs at their table. “Please sit.”

Romsey held a chair for Diana. “I’m Byrd, and this is my wife.”

Ogden offered his hand to the duke. “Pleased to meet you.”

Diana didn’t really care to sit again so soon, but she was too eager to be near the fire to quibble. She turned her body toward the flames and briefly closed her eyes in ecstasy.

“It’s so cold today,” Mrs. Ogden said. “Much colder than yesterday.”

“Where are you headed?” Ogden asked Romsey.

“North. How about you?”

Ogden took a sip of ale—there were tankards in front of him and his wife. “Birmingham. We came from a visit to Mrs. Ogden’s family. Her sister just had a babe.” He smiled at his wife. “We’re hoping that will be us someday soon.”

She beamed back at him, and the love between them was palpable. At least Diana thought it was love. How would she even recognize that emotion? She swallowed and looked at the fire.

Romsey, who’d sat down beside Diana, put his arm around her. “Us too.”

What was he doing?

Playing a part.

Her pulse picked up speed at his touch and familiarity, but she didn’t say anything. She gave him a half smile, confident her eyes were probably communicating her alarm. Alarm? Was this alarming? No, it was just…different.

He patted her shoulder, then withdrew his arm. She was surprised to find that she was disappointed.

“Have you been upstairs?” Romsey asked. “Is this room truly large enough for all four of us, or will we be cramped?”

“It’s plenty big,” Ogden said. “Hope you don’t mind the pallet—you will be closer to the fire, so there’s that.”

“We don’t mind at all. We’re just glad to have a place to rest our weary selves.”

“There’s a screen too,” Mrs. Ogden put in. “So we can all have some privacy.” She tossed her husband a rather suggestive look and giggled softly.

Diana didn’t know whether to feel relieved or anxious. She could only imagine what the Ogdens might do with their privacy.

The conversation turned briefly to the weather, and then Mrs. Ogden told them all about her sister’s delivery and her new baby. It was far more information than Diana might have wanted. Childbirth seemed a frightening prospect, but also distant—as in very, very far in the future. Though she’d planned to marry the Duke of Kilve, they’d agreed there would be no children for a while. She was sure most men would not have consented to such a thing. And suddenly, she was annoyed all over again at her predicament. Why did it seem as if nothing was in her control?

Because it wasn’t.

Until this trip. For the first time in her life, she was making her own choices. Yes, she ought to focus on that. She took a deep breath.

“You need some ale or maybe a whiskey,” Ogden said, turning his head to look for the innkeeper.

Instead, a serving girl came toward them. When she was near the table, Ogden gestured to Romsey. “Bring the man a drink. Do you have whiskey?”

Before she could answer, Romsey gave her a charming smile. “I’d actually like tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“For me as well,” Diana said, prompting the duke to slide an inquisitive look her way.

When the girl had gone, Ogden blinked at Romsey. “You don’t drink spirits?”

Diana put her hand on Romsey’s arm. “I prefer tea, and he joins me. Isn’t that lovely?”

Romsey gave her a look that was nothing short of incredulous, but he masked it quickly. “Quite lovely,” he murmured.

“Well, if you change your mind, the ale is delicious,” Mrs. Ogden said.

A few minutes later, the serving girl brought tea and said their dinner would be out shortly. Then Tinley came over to tell them their things had been delivered to their room and that he’d see them in the morning.

Over dinner, Mr. Ogden asked Romsey about his occupation. Diana realized they’d come this far without discussing that. She was quite curious to hear what he’d say.

“I’m fortunate to have inherited a small estate,” Romsey said easily. “Nothing terribly fancy.”

“I wondered,” Mrs. Ogden said, her gaze narrowing on Diana’s traveling costume. “In fact, I wondered if you might be peerage, judging from your clothing.” She exhaled, smiling. “I’m glad you’re not. I’ve never met a peer, and I’m not sure what I’d say!”

Diana stifled a smile. If Mrs. Ogden only knew…

“Still, they’re gentry, my dear,” Mr. Ogden said, flicking a glance toward the duke that indicated he was perhaps not quite as comfortable as he’d been a few minutes before.

“Barely, really,” Romsey assured him.

“Perhaps you should have the bed,” Mrs. Ogden offered.

Her husband shot her a wide-eyed glance, and she blushed slightly.

Romsey was quick to say, “Heavens, no. We insist you take the bed—you were here first. The pallet will suit us just fine.”

Mr. Ogden looked relieved. “You are very kind.”

“We already established that you are the kind ones—offering up your extra space.”

A yawn suddenly escaped Diana’s mouth. She brought her hand up and tried to hide it, but everyone at the table noticed. She knew this because now they were all doing it.

Mrs. Ogden laughed. “I guess we should think about turning in!” She exchanged a warm look with her husband, and he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Pardon us,” he murmured.

Diana averted her gaze to her unfinished dessert—a wonderful bread and butter pudding with succulent currants. It was, she reflected, her favorite part of the meal. But perhaps that was because she wasn’t often allowed sweets.

Romsey helped her up from the table as Mr. Ogden performed the same service for his wife. They went toward the stairs, and Romsey gestured for the other couple to precede them. “You first since we’ve no idea where we’re going.”

Ogden nodded. “Right.” He guided his wife up and around the sharp corner to a large landing before leading them to the left to a room at the end of the corridor. “This is it.” He opened the door and moved inside, quickly stepping aside to allow Romsey and Diana to come in.

It was the largest room they’d stayed in thus far, with a bed against the left side, a fireplace opposite the door, and a table and chairs in front of a window on the right side. The pallet looked like a nest of blankets situated on the floor in front of the right side of the hearth. There was also, as Mrs. Ogden had stated, a screen standing in the corner near the table.

“We’ll just move this,” Ogden said, going to the screen.

Romsey rushed to help him, and each man picked up one side before carrying it to the other side of the fireplace, where they placed it near the hearth on the left side between the pallet and the bed. This allowed privacy but didn’t completely cut the Ogdens off from the heat source.

Mrs. Ogden stood near the center of the room and surveyed the placement of the screen. “Perhaps Mrs. Byrd and I can prepare for bed, while you two excuse yourselves.”

While Diana wasn’t terribly enthused about undressing with a stranger, it was perhaps better than being undressed by Romsey. Except, truth be told, she didn’t mind being undressed by him. He was gentle, careful, and surprisingly adept.

“An excellent notion,” Ogden said, turning toward the door. “Come, Byrd, let us have a nightcap.” He glanced over at Romsey, his brow furrowing. “Or something.”

When they were gone, Mrs. Ogden came bustling over. “Now we can gossip about them!”

Diana fought to keep from showing her distaste. She didn’t like to gossip, but it was hard to avoid in London’s social whirl. She could tell Mrs. Ogden things that would likely make her eyes the size of the ocean. “I’m sure I have nothing of interest to say about Mr. Byrd.” But about the Duke of Ruin? She quickly put that from her mind.

“I doubt that.” Mrs. Ogden’s eyes twinkled as she walked to a narrow bench at the end of the bed and sat down to remove her shoes. “Mr. Ogden and I have been married eight months. In truth, I suspect I may be carrying a babe, but I haven’t told him yet. What about you?”

Self-conscious but not knowing what else to do, Diana sat in one of the chairs at the table and took off her half boots. “We were married just last week. I am not carrying a child.”

“Yet,” Mrs. Ogden said with a wink. “That Mr. Byrd is as handsome as they come. Why, if Peter looked like that, I’d never let him out of bed!” She laughed as she stood and unbuttoned the drop front of her gown.

Diana averted her eyes and pulled the pins from her hair, setting them in a neat little pile on the table.

“Did I embarrass you?” Mrs. Ogden asked. “I’m terribly sorry. Sometimes I’m too plainspoken. Or so my mother says.”

Diana lifted her eyes and saw that the other woman was removing her petticoat, which she draped over the end of the bed along with her dress.

Mrs. Ogden came toward Diana, her deep brown eyes tinged with concern. “Perhaps you don’t think he’s attractive? Were you…forced to marry him? I heard that happens sometimes with the gentry.” She nodded knowingly. “It happens sometimes in my station too.”

“No, I wasn’t forced. As you said, he’s quite attractive.” Diana couldn’t dispute that. While she hadn’t seen him undressed—he was always careful to disrobe in the dark and was up and dressed before she even awoke—she’d become well acquainted with the feel of his thigh pressed along hers in the coach, the touch of his hand against her, the feel of his lips moving over hers. Perhaps not well acquainted with his lips since they’d only kissed that one time during that silly game at the house party of course. However, the more time she spent with him, the more she wondered what it might be like to kiss him again. And for longer.

Needing a distraction, she began to braid her hair.

“So you married for love, then.” Mrs. Ogden smiled softly. “It wasn’t precisely love with me and Peter. More like lust.” She laughed again. “And when my mother caught us in the stable, well, we had to get married. It’s all worked out, though. I do love him, and he loves me.”

“How wonderful.” And truly it was. Diana yearned for something simple and true, but knew she was unlikely to find it. Even if she did muster the courage to start a new life, she doubted love would fall into her lap. Or that she’d meet it in a stable.

Finishing her braid, she decided to take advantage of the other woman’s presence. “I’m afraid I need help removing my gown. Mr. Byrd usually helps me, but it might be nice if I was already abed when he returns.”

Mrs. Ogden’s eyes lit. “I know where your mind’s at! Of course I’ll help. Turn around.”

Diana pivoted, and the other woman yanked at the ties of her gown until it was loose, then helped take it over Diana’s head. She draped it over the top of the screen while Diana removed her petticoat, then returned to help with Diana’s corset.

“This is very fancy.” Mrs. Ogden’s voice carried a hint of awe. “Must’ve cost a fortune.”

Diana didn’t know what to say. It had cost a fair penny. “I think I might prefer something simpler like yours. Something I could take off by myself.”

“We could swap,” Mrs. Ogden offered. “On second thought, there’s no way yours would fit me. You’re a tiny thing.”

Mrs. Ogden did have probably three inches of height on Diana, and her bosom was far more impressive. In fact, Diana suffered a bit of envy at the woman’s curves.

Diana pulled the undergarment from her body and, standing in just her chemise and stockings, nearly choked at the sight of Mrs. Ogden using her hands to lift her breasts, as if she were weighing them. Looking down at the globes, the woman said, “This is why I’m fairly certain there’s a babe. They aren’t usually this big.” She grinned at Diana. “Though Mr. Ogden seems to like them!”

Once again speechless, Diana turned to find her bag in order to fetch her night rail. Finding it, she said, “Well, good night, then. Thank you for your assistance.”

“Happy to help,” Mrs. Ogden said, going toward the bed.

Diana moved behind the screen and removed her chemise and stockings. Donning her night rail quickly, she was glad for the proximity of the fire. She hoped Mr. and Mrs. Ogden would be warm enough in the bed, but then it looked as if it had plenty of blankets. In fact, she ought to ask for one of them so she could roll it up to put between her and Romsey, but she didn’t care to explain why she wanted it—not when they had the fire and the Ogdens didn’t.

Settling herself into the pallet and drawing the blanket up to her chin, she closed her eyes and prayed that she would fall asleep quickly, preferably before Romsey returned.

That prayer, like so many others, went unanswered.

Hearing the men enter and bidding each other good night, Diana turned toward the fire. A few minutes later, the blanket moved, and she felt the warmth of Romsey’s body close to hers. The pallet, damnably, wasn’t very large.

She felt more awake than ever, her body screaming with awareness, both because of Romsey behind her and the other couple in the room. After a moment, she heard noises coming from beyond the screen. A sigh. A giggle. A soft moan.

Oh my goodness.

Diana closed her eyes tight and pulled the blanket up a bit more to nearly cover her ear.

But it wasn’t enough. A few minutes later, the moans became louder and more drawn-out. Then came a keening cry.

Diana jumped, flipping to her back, her eyes wide.

“Shhh,” Romsey said softly.

Diana looked at him. His dark eyes reflected the light of the dying fire. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked urgently.

“Nothing.”

The cry intensified and stopped. Diana began to exhale, but then Mrs. Ogden let out several successive whimpers. Diana tensed. “Surely there’s something wrong. She sounds as if she’s in pain.”

“She is not,” Romsey whispered. “I can assure you, she is not.”

“Then what’s wrong with her?”

Romsey took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving hers. “Have you no idea what goes on between a man and a woman?” He kept his voice low so that she had to strain to hear.

“Yes, of course I do.” Her mother had told her in painstaking detail how a man would put his…member between Diana’s legs, and it would hurt. He would grunt and pant and deposit his seed, and she would be grateful. It sounded awful, and her mother had simply shrugged and said that all women must endure it. But then she’d also described kissing as a horrid activity akin to having one’s skin peeled off. Diana knew that to be patently false and now wondered if the rest of her mother’s descriptions had been lies as well. Although, it did sound as if Mrs. Ogden were being put on the rack…

Something entered Romsey’s eyes, and they narrowed slightly. “You think it’s unpleasant.” He shook his head. “It’s not. At least, not when it’s done right. In fact, you can take pleasure all on your own—you don’t need a man. Did you know that?”

Struck speechless yet again, she simply stared at him.

“I see,” he murmured.

She could give herself pleasure? Where she cried out like Mrs. Ogden? She wasn’t sure she wanted that, and yet judging from the chorus of “yes,” coming from the bed, perhaps she ought to reserve judgment.

She recalled her earlier thoughts, about how she’d never been able to choose anything. This was something she could choose. As long as she was rebelling, she might as well make it memorable.

Diana turned toward him, anticipation curling through her. “Would you show me?”

His nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened until they were nearly obsidian, save the gold flecks that gleamed in the firelight. “Diana, do you have any idea what you’re asking me?”

The shock of her audacity gave her a moment’s pause, but only a moment. This was beyond the pale, and she should be overcome with shame. Except she wasn’t. Nor did she want to be. “Not really. That’s why I need you to show me. Unless you can’t. Perhaps I should ask another woman?”

“No, no.” His voice was tight, strained. “I can show you. Or guide you.” He took a deep breath and let it out, then propped his head onto his hand, settling his elbow into the pallet. “It’s best if you roll to your back.”

She did that, and suddenly, the sound of the bed violently hitting the wall filled the room. Her jaw dropped, and Romsey leaned over her, his finger coming to his lips.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I don’t expect it will be long now.”

Diana had no idea what he meant. “Until what?”

“Until they finish.”

“How can you tell?”

“There’s a progression…an intensifying of sensations…a build-up of pleasure that reaches a climax.”

Diana thought she understood. “Ah, that’s when he leaves his seed inside her.”

“Yes, but more importantly, that’s when the pleasure is at its most spectacular.”

Her limbs felt lighter suddenly, her breasts heavier. These changes to her body were strange but not unpleasant. “Does this happen to women? We don’t have any seed.”

“No, you don’t, and yes, it does happen to women, although if a man doesn’t know what he’s doing and a woman doesn’t know her body well enough to understand what she wants, it’s possible, nay likely, she won’t achieve the same pleasure. It’s called an orgasm.”

This was all so intriguing. Diana nearly forgot about the sounds coming from the bed. “Is that what you’re going to show me how to do? Have an orgasm?”

“Yes.” His voice sounded strained again, as if he were on the rack.

“Is this going to be a problem for you? You don’t sound very enthused,” she said. Too bad, because she was warming to the idea of learning what an orgasm felt like.

His mouth curved into a small but seductively charming smile. “I’m plenty enthused, actually. Shall we begin?”

Before she could answer, the sounds from the bed intensified. Mrs. Ogden let out a high wail while her husband grunted, then moaned loudly. Then the bed stopped hitting the wall.

“Are they finished?” Diana whispered.

“I think so.”

“Then I suppose I should start. What do I do?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “This is going to involve your sex. Or we can call it your pussy. Or your cunny. It has a variety of names. Do you have a preference?”

Heat flooded her face. “I don’t.” She resisted the urge to turn and hide from him. No, she was going to do this.

“Put your hand on it—your sex,” he clarified.

Diana reached down beneath the blanket and gently touched between her legs. “Should I lift my night rail?”

“Yes.”

She did that and rested her hand against her curls. A mixture of embarrassment and curiosity set her nerves rattling.

“Now, there are parts to your cunny. Would you like to know what they are?”

“If I must.”

He smiled again. “It would help. There are lips on the outside. They shield what you protect on the inside.”

Lips…she supposed that made sense.

“Touch them. You’ll need to part your legs a bit. Truthfully, the more you part your legs, the more you may enjoy it.”

The heat that had just begun to fade from her face came rushing back. She faltered. “I don’t…”

“Do you want me to help?” The question was so low, she barely heard it.

She couldn’t bring herself to make the words, so she nodded.

His free hand moved beneath the blanket, and he found her hand. “Part your legs, just a bit, and open those folds.”

Folds. Lips. The vocabulary began to jumble in her brain.

But then his hand guided her, his fingers moving over her fingers, parting her flesh. She gasped. “I’m…wet. Is that normal?”

“That’s not just normal, that’s wonderful. That wetness is what helps a man’s cock—sorry, another word for you—glide inside. It will also increase your pleasure. When there’s no moisture, it’s not very pleasant.”

She tried to imagine a—cock—sliding into her, and that heat that had suffused her face flushed through the rest of her body. Her pelvis twitched, and she suddenly wanted to press her fingers inside herself.

He seemed to know because that was what he guided her to do. Positioning his index finger over hers, he pushed hers inside, causing her to gasp once more. “That should feel pleasant at least.”

“It feels… I-I don’t know what it feels like.” She was caught in wonder, trying—and failing—to understand everything. And her control was slipping.

“The most important part of your anatomy here is this.” He guided her finger up to the top of her sex, where the…lips ended. “This is your clitoris. If you just rub this, you might even orgasm—without putting your finger inside. Some women do.”

She squinted up at him. “You have a great deal of experience.”

His expression turned wry. “A fair amount.”

Diana felt a burst of irrational jealousy. “Have you done this before?”

“Taught a woman to pleasure herself? No, Diana, this is a first.”

He’d called her Diana. She should be shocked, but that seemed laughable given their current state. Instead, it had sounded like a caress, and only served to heighten her desire. Yes, desire. She wanted this.

“What do I do to make that happen?”

He swallowed again, and she realized his breathing was a bit shallow. Was he all right?

Before she could ask, he used his fingers over hers, massaging her flesh. “Rub yourself. Here. Can you feel that little nub? Try to find it with your finger.”

She searched until she found something that felt…nubbish, she supposed. “There.”

“Close your eyes.” His voice was soft and dark, lulling her into a state of seductive excitement as his hand instructed hers how to move. Slowly, softly, then faster with more pressure.

The pleasure he talked about—how it would build—started there. She sucked in a breath and opened her eyes. He was still watching her, his gaze impossibly dark and his face stretched taut.

His motions grew larger so that her fingertips slipped down along her folds, to where the moisture had gathered even more. She was quite slick now, and the sensations shooting through her were becoming more intense.

Her hips twitched. She wanted to arch up with the motion, to meet her hand—and his. Her breasts tingled, and the comment Mrs. Ogden had made about her husband liking her breasts rooted in Diana’s mind. She opened her mouth to ask what that meant, to maybe ask Romsey to touch her there, but a shock of pleasure shot through her and she gasped instead.

He picked up speed, pressing her fingertips against her clitoris and moving their hands so quickly over her flesh that wave after wave of ecstasy came over her. She began to see, to understand…

She wanted more. She wanted him to touch her, to put himself inside her, to at least thrust his fingers into her. She ached to be filled, to be…satisfied.

“Simon.” His name fell from her lips, but she couldn’t find a single other word to say, to beg for what she wanted.

But then it wasn’t necessary. He moved their hands down once more, slicking them again and repeated his frenzied attack on her clitoris.

Then his hand was gone. She fumbled, pausing for a moment and losing the thread of what had been barreling down on her.

“Don’t stop,” he urged. “Harder. Faster. Let your legs fall open. Give yourself what you crave.”

She did what he’d taught her to, ravaging her flesh with hard, desperate caresses. Without thinking, she thrust her finger inside and cried out as it happened. Orgasm. Her belly pitched, and her muscles clenched so hard, she marveled at her own body. Or she would have if she hadn’t been so utterly wrapped up in delicious darkness, a cocoon of rapture so lush and so gratifying that she never wanted to come out.

And yet she did.

She’d no idea how long it took, but she emerged from the other side, opening her eyes as her breathing started to slow. His lips were parted as his own breath came in harsh rasps, as if he’d come with her on the journey.

“Did you…orgasm too?” she asked softly.

“No. I don’t think that would be wise.”

Why not? She’d never felt anything so wonderful, so fulfilling, so bone-meltingly satisfying. Her limbs felt heavy and sated, as if she could sink completely into the pallet.

She blinked, noting that his face was still drawn with tight lines. “Why not? Can’t a man pleasure himself?”

He smiled again, his lips spreading into a heart-stopping grin. That’s just what Diana’s heart did for a brief second—it stopped and flipped over before picking up its rapid pace once more. “Yes, we can. In fact, I think I must. But not here. Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He pulled the blanket back and sat up. The firelight splashed across his naked torso, revealing for the first time the smooth plane of his masculine flesh to her. She didn’t look away. She couldn’t, not when she wanted to touch the muscles sculpted into him, the arc of his shoulder blade as he turned away from her.

She reached out and grabbed his arm, her fingers closing around his bicep. “Where are you going?” The question came out a bit louder and harsher than she’d intended.

He turned his head. “To…take care of things.”

“But—”

“We’ve had enough lessons for one night. Please, Diana, let me go.”

She uncurled her fingers from his flesh and lay back against the pallet, her gaze never leaving his body as he drew his breeches on over his small clothes and pulled his shirt over his head. Then he went to the table, where he put on his boots. A moment later, he was gone from the room, leaving Diana to wonder what she had done to drive him away.