say, then answer me this. Why did you come back, Emma? After he’d frightened you, why return? Did you change your mind about something?’
‘No.’
So he knew Darleston had touched her. She hadn’t considered he might be cross with her for that.
‘Emma.’ Lyle stretched a hand towards her, but stopped short of actual contact. ‘Can we speak plainly for once?’
‘I thought we always did.’ Her words echoed around the room, shrill and defensive.
Lyle shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean you to see that. We should have been more circumspect. I want to apologise if my behaviour has offended or embarrassed you. I’m sure Darleston would like to say the same. However, I have to know why you watched. Why did you stay when you saw what we were about? You could have left.’
‘I – I don’t know.’ Her cheeks prickled with the heat flooding them. Her reflection in the silver teapot bore the hue of a raspberry. Aghast with embarrassment she curled her knuckles against her mouth. ‘I was intrigued, I suppose. I’ve never seen … I’ve never spied on you before. Well, only once.’ And that hadn’t been anywhere near so enlightening. ‘I swear it. And I won’t do so again.’
Lyle’s fingers curled into the eiderdown. ‘I didn’t expect you to make it a habit. Not that I should really mind if you did wish to take pleasure in that way, as long as you warned me of your intention beforehand.’
What in God’s name was he saying? That he would invite her to watch them fornicate?
‘I don’t think … I’m not sure that’s absolutely necessary.’ The fire in her cheeks spread to her ears and her nose.
‘Why is that?’ Lyle pressed. He shifted position so that he sat upon his haunches. ‘Is it because it’s not me you want to watch? It’s Robert, isn’t it? You’re attracted to him.’
Robert she presumed to be Lord Darleston. Robert, she repeated to herself, committing his Christian name to memory. ‘I’m most certainly not.’ She shook her head desperately.
Lyle crowded her, shuffling up close to the wall of crockery between them. ‘You’re the most godawful liar I’ve ever met. Tell the truth, Emma. Do you want to make love to him?’
‘Of course not.’ She shoved aside the tea tray and leapt out of bed. Her limbs and arms were trembling. It took all her coordination and determination to cross to the fireplace. Lyle followed. He loomed over her. Emma risked a peep to find him dusting sugar from his clothing. The remains of dinner lay strewn across the bed. She reached out to ring the bell for a maid, but Lyle blocked the way.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so roused.’
‘I don’t want him like that,’ she insisted, still seeking a distraction from the conversation. The whole bed would have to be stripped and remade before either of them slept. ‘You know my habits. I don’t care to be touched by anyone.’
The harshness of her declaration made it sound convincing, but deep down she wasn’t so sure of her honesty. Omission still constituted lying and a small white lie lay embedded in her words. She didn’t want to be touched, but there was no denying that she wanted to run her palms across Darleston’s form.
Lyle frowned at her, his brown eyes riddled with mysteries. ‘He claims you were staring at his arse. And I saw you staring at his cock. Do you deny that?’
She blustered a moment, her mouth working but no sense coming out. ‘Well – I’ve never seen one before and I could hardly stare at yours, considering where it was embedded,’ she eventually blurted.
Oh, dear heavens, that was quite the most foolish and ridiculous thing to say.
Lyle’s jaw dropped. For what felt like eternity, he stared at her, shock engraved in every line of his face. Then, abruptly, he began to laugh. ‘Emma!’ A deep rolling laugh, which tugged at her lips and made her grin too. He didn’t seem so angry either, once their merriment had died down; instead he seemed intrigued.
‘Well, I think that’s outrageous. That you’ve never seen one, I mean. We ought to rectify that. Can’t have a married woman not knowing what’s what. I know you’d probably rather I brought in Robert, but –’
‘No, no, don’t!’ She couldn’t have him here making things even more difficult. Darleston didn’t understand the rules. And even if he did, she wasn’t certain he’d obey them. She supposed being an Earl’s son made him rather a law unto himself.
‘– but I don’t mind obliging you. Really, Emma, you had only to ask if you were curious.’ Lyle artfully slipped the buttons of his frontfall, drawing her attention fully to him. ‘You can’t have seen much detail out in the woods.’
She’d seen detail enough.
‘Robert’s is very nice, of course. I think you’ll find him a little thicker than I. Although I’m longer.’
She had no response to that. None at all. Flabbergasted, Emma watched him step out of his breeches and raise his shirt-tails. Confusion momentarily wrinkled her brow, for what she saw was not at all like what she’d seen earlier. Lyle’s prick lay curled against his body as if slumbering, while Darleston’s member had stood erect. Yet even as she stood trying to figure it out, change occurred before her eyes. Lyle became stiffer, longer. He woke up and stood proud. The tip peeped out from beneath a hood, rosy and glossy. A slit like a tiny eye was exposed. From it leaked a single shiny tear.
‘How much more do you want to see?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. What is there to see?’ She clasped her hands over her mouth.
‘I can pleasure myself, as if I were inside him. I can bring myself to climax. Women can too if they touch themselves in much the same way. Not all touch is bad, Emma.’
She’d reserve judgement on that. However she didn’t wish to get into a debate at present. Fascination had taken hold. It was nigh impossible not to focus on the slow, steady rhythm of Lyle’s hand rubbing back and forth, up and down the length of his shaft. What a delightful picture he made. It made her feel twitchy inside, hot and irritable but in a pleasant sort of way.
Actually, in much the same way Darleston’s touch had made her feel.
Well, why should it be such a great thing to admit to desire? She wasn’t immune to physical attraction, merely unnerved and quite unused to the sensations of it. She had never claimed not to feel; she only wished not to be poked and prodded.
Lyle caught her gaze. ‘Perhaps you’d allow me to get more comfortable.’
Emma gave him a mute nod. She watched him strip naked, desperately relieved that the door was locked.
Two years of life together and prior to this moment she had no clear idea of what he looked like. Her husband was a beautiful man. Naturally she was aware of his shape and how well he fitted into his clothes. But clothes masked plenty of sins, as she knew only too well.
Golden hairs flecked Lyle’s chest and the pits of his arms and formed a thick thatch around his loins. His legs were hairy too. She’d never realised that. So too were his forearms. His nipples were two pale-pink pennies, only a shade or two darker than his skin. Smooth muscle gave him a graceful shape. Why, he was even more beautiful naked, especially as he was right now, standing proud.
Lyle left the fireside. Emma followed his movement to the bed, gaze locked upon the firm globes of his rear as he set aside the crockery. He ripped the despoiled eiderdown from the bed. ‘Sit here. Come close. I promise I won’t touch you.’ He beckoned her to a spot just shy of his left hip. Emma sat primly upright, her hands clasped fast together. ‘How does it make you feel to watch me do this?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Good, bad, indifferent?’
‘Hot.’ Another blush streaked across her face. No similar