Duke of Desire (Maiden Lane #12)(42)

He arched an eyebrow. He looked rather formidable, sitting so motionless across from her, his eyes frosty and his arms folded across his chest.

“B-because.” She lurched into speech when it became evident that he wasn’t going to answer her. “I wondered if you’d perhaps had a bad experience with an unwanted pregnancy?”

“No.” The single word was without inflection. “I made very sure the women would not have my children.”

How? She was dying to ask, but didn’t quite dare.

A woman with less courage—or perhaps with more sanity—would have given up at this point.

Not she.

“That’s quite interesting,” she babbled. “I myself have never taken a lover, even when I was widowed, so my experience in such matters is rather limited, as you can understand. But my friend Katherine had a different view on the subject.” She inhaled, shoving down the part of her that was terribly scandalized that she was talking about this with him. They would never have a normal marriage if she couldn’t make herself be brave. “Katherine took many lovers and she used to enjoy telling me about … her escapades to try and shock me.”

“And did she?” He was lounging back against the squabs, listening to her with as much polite interest as if she were discoursing on literature or the weather. Good Lord, why hadn’t he stopped her yet?

“Sometimes.” She raised her chin, suddenly feeling as if he’d challenged her. “When she described a lover’s genitals. I’m afraid Katherine could be quite, quite crude, you see. She did like to see me blush. She called it a man’s cock.”

His eyes narrowed on the word.

Her voice lowered as if she were imparting secrets. “We would take tea in her sitting room and she would describe her latest lover’s cock—what it looked like erect. How his cock felt in her hands. How his cock felt in her mouth.” Her voice had become a bit breathless. “I’m afraid I was quite naive. When she first told me about putting a man’s cock in one’s mouth—of licking the head and playing with the foreskin—I was appalled. I’d never imagined such a thing. But over time I became accustomed to the idea. I even thought …”

She stopped and swallowed, for her throat was suddenly dry.

“You thought what?” His voice was a whisper of dark smoke.

She inhaled, feeling hot. “I thought that someday, when I married again, I might want to do that with my husband. Take his cock between my hands. See what it feels like.” Her breath was coming faster, but she met his half-lidded eyes—and then let her gaze drop to the bulge between his legs. She had the idea that it might have grown larger. “I’ve never done that. Never studied a man so closely. Never touched a man’s cock with my lips. Never held him on my tongue.”

Her eyes darted back to his face as she waited anxiously for his response.

He closed his eyes and swallowed. His hands had fallen to his lap. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I …” She cleared her throat, beating down the disappointment that threatened to overwhelm her. She had to try. “I wanted you to know that I don’t have very much in the way of experience in that area. But I would like to. I would like to find out how to please a man. I would like to discover what makes bedsport so enjoyable that Katherine took many lovers. I would like to do that with you.” She inhaled and made her voice firm. “I would like to do everything with you.”

He opened his eyes, but his head was turned. He looked out the window, refusing to meet her gaze. “I cannot do this.”

The mortification and disappointment that washed over her at his rejection—his third rejection—was near all-encompassing.

Still she kept her head held high. “Why?”

“I’ve already told you why I choose not to have an heir. My reasons are—”

“Your reasons are patently ridiculous!” She’d raised her voice, but she couldn’t find it within herself to care. “You say you desire women, you kiss me twice, you have no struggle in becoming hard—”

He closed his eyes again, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Madam. Quit this line of questioning now, I beg of you, for if you do not, I shall not be responsible for the consequences.”

Iris watched him and saw a man with his temper barely leashed, his jaw hard as a rock, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunched, his entire aspect so frozen he nearly shook.

He’d told her to stop. And she had—twice before. “I cannot quit my questions—I’m married to you. I have no other choice but you if I want to have children—and I do—therefore please explain to me why you won’t bed me. Why you think we shouldn’t make a child together.”

She had known that he could move quickly. Still it was a shock when she found herself pressed against the back of her seat, his face inches from hers.

“God’s blood, woman, how much control do you think I have?” he whispered, his clove-scented breath brushing her face. “You must think me a saint by the way you harangue me despite my warnings. Listen and listen well: I am no saint.”

“But I don’t need a saint,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I don’t want a saint. I want you.”

“God forgive me,” he snarled, and pulled her mouth to his.