Page 50 of Courting Elizabeth

“You’ve seen them before.”

“Never yours, at night, in my chamber.”

“Is it very different?”

“Cruelly so.”

She placed a finger on the knot without pulling.

Then she placed her hand over mine and pulled gently.

The belt came undone.

The dressing gown fell open to reveal a white nightgown, thin, fastened by a ribbon above her breasts. The firelight traced the outline of her body with a precision that made me clench my teeth.

“Fitzwilliam?”

I realized my silence was frightening her.

“You are magnificent.”

She gave a nervous laugh.

“You can barely see anything.”

“I see more than I ever had the right to hope for.”

I raised my hand toward the ribbon of her nightgown.

“May I?”

She placed her fingers over mine.

“Not yet.”

I withdrew my hand at once.

“Very well.”

Her relief was visible. It did not erase her desire.

She took my hand and placed it on her breast over the nightgown.

The world narrowed to the supple warmth beneath my palm.

Elizabeth held her breath. So did I.

I closed my fingers slowly. Her nipple hardened against the fabric. She let out a sound so soft that my entire body tensed.

“Look at me,” I murmured.

She obeyed.

I caressed her breast without breaking her gaze, learning what made her lips tremble, what quickened her breathing. My thumb brushed over the hardened peak. She arched slightly.

“Again,” I murmured, and the word was neither a question nor a command.

I slipped my other hand beneath her dressing gown and found her waist through the nightgown. Then her hip. Then the top of her bare thigh where the fabric had ridden up.