Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(6)

“You’re surely not suggesting …?”

“No, I definitely don’t think she’s ready for that. But I think you could find plenty of pleasure in simply teaching her what it is to be a woman, forcing her to relax and to enjoy. I do recall I’ve heard that you are quite good at that.”

“You surely cannot believe she is that innocent? Even if she’s never known a man, she does have hands.”

Another low laugh. “Actually, I do believe she is that innocent. I was quite taken aback with what she did not know—or what she merely pretended to know. I do believe she understands the mechanics of the act, but little more. Her mother probably gave her a ‘lie back and it won’t hurt for long’ talk.”

He was intrigued. Such a situation had never even entered his thoughts: giving a virgin his instruction, having her conform to his wishes, his demands. He wouldn’t tie her, but he could certainly require that she lie still, not move. He could position her any way he wanted and she would have no idea what was normal and what was not. Ruby was right: There might be great pleasure in such an encounter, pleasure for both of them. “You said that you thought she simply wanted her cherry popped. If she would consider a stick, are you sure that she is agreeable to what you have in mind? And why would you care? Certainly the other is much easier.”

Ruby’s gaze went to the ceiling, but this time not in disgust. Her deep consideration was plain upon her face. “I am not sure why I care, but I do. She deserves more than she has received so far in this life. I do not want her to marry some old fool and never know what she has missed. She came to me once before—on an entirely different matter—and I turned her down. This time I wish to grant the wishes she does not even know she has.”

“She came to you before? How on earth did an innocent such as you describe even know that you existed?” He stood, walking out the tension that had begun to fill his body.

Ruby hesitated. “Her husband visited me. She knew of his visits and did not try to prevent them. She was understanding as far as she was able. Perhaps that is why I care—because she cared so greatly for her husband and what he needed.”

Her husband had cared for other men, then. He knew Ruby had arranged such meetings in the past. He felt a token of sympathy for the wife. It would be hard to be married to such a man, even if he was a good husband in all other ways. She must have come to Ruby to have the situation explained. He could not imagine any man having such a conversation with his wife. “I am still not sure I am what she deserves. Don’t you know some gentle young boy for her? Perhaps you could become a matchmaker after all? And what of pregnancy? Does she know what she would be risking?”

“I will instruct her on how to prevent a child. And no, Geoffrey, I’ve no desire to be a matchmaker. And I truly do think you are what she needs. What woman would want a boy when she could have you?” Ruby’s gaze swept over his six-foot-plus frame. He felt her admiration of his strong features and dark wavy hair. Her eyes paused at his shoulders and then at his hips, and then lower. “Hmmm, it does look like all I’ve heard of you is true and that you are not opposed to my plans.”

“How do you know it’s not for you, my darling?” He cocked a hip forward.

“Stop. Believe me, in my profession I’d know very well if that was for me. I rather think you’re intrigued by the clashing ideas of control and purity. I doubt there are that many new experiences left for you to try.”

“That is true. But a ‘wedding night’? What do you mean by that? Romance and candlelight and cuddling first? Does it have to be a wedding night?”

Ruby’s chest rose as she let out a long, deep breath. “I rather think it does. And yes, that is exactly what I mean—romance. But more than romance: a night that will live in her memory forever. Every woman deserves a wedding night. And what could be better than one that comes without a husband?”





Chapter Three





Was she really going to do this? Louisa stared about the ornate bedroom and tried to think about anything except what she was here to do.

The windows were long and heavily curtained in rich white damask shot through with golden thread. She would have thought they’d be red velvet and much more shoddy in appearance. When she’d pictured losing her virginity in a brothel she had certainly not pictured rooms that could have belonged to a duke.

And they were so tasteful, not a thing overdone. Who had taught Madame Rouge about style, design, and simplicity?

Even the bed, huge though it was, was simple. The coverlet of heavily embroidered white silk. The high, heavy carved bedposts standing out against the lack of other ornamentation. It was a room that she could have imagined choosing for her own—although it was quite masculine in flavor. Not in the usual way, however—with dark leather and the smell of tobacco. Rather, it was a room that a man could be comfortable in.

That a man would be comfortable in.

The slow chime of the hallway clock sounded. It was nine. He would be here any moment.

Was there still time to flee?

She didn’t need to do this. If she never married then no one would ever know. And did it really matter if they did? John had been wounded in battle serving his country. Surely nobody would think less of him because …

Blast. She knew that was not true. It would have humiliated him when he was alive, so it would be unfair to let a single person know when he was dead. She would keep his secret. It was a last act of love and honor.