As Marcus watched her use her finger to wipe the residue from her chin, he stepped forward. "Allow me."
She expected him to produce a small piece of linen, but to her surprise, he held her finger to his lips and sucked the tip softly. His mouth was warm, wet, utterly wicked. The sensation caused sparks of desire to ignite. Like a blacksmith's furnace, the fire inside raged fast and furious, melting away any doubts and reservations. As the master of the flame, he could bend and mould her easily to his will. Just as she had done in the cave, she would give herself over to him, right now if he wished it so.
Her gazed drifted over the breadth of his chest, ventured to the desk behind him.
His tongue circled the tip of her finger before he pulled it slowly out of his mouth. "Don't get any ideas. We're not staying here." Even his silky smooth tone sent ripples of excitement racing through her, the pulse between her thighs beating a powerful, pleasurable rhythm.
"Do you presume to know my thoughts?" she said, unable to keep her desire for him from infusing her tone.
"You cannot glance at the desk with that sultry smile and not expect me to draw my own conclusions." He nodded to her glass. "Drink up, for the anticipation is killing me."
Now she wished she had asked for a much larger measure. Not because she wished to stall him. But she needed a way to bolster her courage. With a slight tremble in her fingers, she swallowed what remained in her glass. Marcus took it from her and placed it on the desk behind him.
"Come." He took her hand. "Let's find somewhere more comfortable."
"Are we going to my chamber or … or yours?" she said in a bid to sound more confident.
"Mine."
How could one simple, solitary word cause a shiver to race through her body? No doubt his masterful tone played some part in rousing such a reaction.
They climbed the stairs in silence though her internal voice refused to be tempered. Question after question flooded her mind. Would her disdain for the patrons of Labelles, for the debauched scenes she'd so frequently witnessed, prevent her from enjoying the experience? Would she know how to please him or would she fall hopelessly short of his expectations? What would happen when the time came for her to leave the monastery and return to England?
The last thought caused a frisson of fear, and she quickly pushed it aside so as not to ruin the moment.
His quarters were at the end of the long corridor, the furthest room from her own, she noted, and she recalled his reserved, austere facade when he'd first shown her up to her chamber.
"Please, come in," he said as she hugged the door jamb like one would a mast on a sinking ship. With some hesitation, Anna stepped over the threshold and into his private domain. "Give me a moment. I'll just light the candle lamps."
She stood in the middle of the vast space. Where her room was small and cosy, his was three times larger, maybe more. As a soft, warm glow illuminated the shadows, she scanned her surroundings, believing his choice of decor would reveal much of his character.
"What's happened to your bed?" she asked, surprised to find it stood no more than a few inches from the floor. For a man with such a large frame, it could hardly be comfortable.
Marcus glanced at it and shrugged. "I built it myself. It's just a frame without legs. I've spent years sleeping in barns, on the ground, anywhere I could lay my head. I sleep better the lower I am to the floor."
"Oh," she replied, noting how the room had an inherently masculine feel. All the soft furnishings, from the drapes to the coverlet, were in varying shades of green. There was something natural about it, something unassuming, earthy.
"It's far more comfortable than it looks," he said as he strode past her. She heard him close the door and turn the key in the lock. "Now, do you wish to go first or second?"
She swung around to face him. "Excuse me?" Confusion caused her to frown. But her breath caught in her throat as he stepped closer and tugged the ties at her neck, pushed her cape off her shoulders. "How … what …?"
Marcus took her hand, forcing her to step out from the pool of material. "We'll spend a little time getting to know one another." His heated gaze roamed over her dress. "Thankfully, your decision to forgo a few layers has made my work a lot easier."
She had no idea what he meant. No idea what he intended to do. It had all been v
ery simple, all been very base at Labelles. Copulation amounted to nothing more than lots of heaving, grunts and banging. The girls feigned desire. They were desperate to be rid of their partners. Even the erotic paintings lining the wall in the drawing room had failed to provide the enlightenment needed to respond to Marcus' odd question.
Anna shook her head, honesty being her only option. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."
He stared at her for a moment; an arrogant grin played at the corners of his mouth, and she felt her cheeks burn. "Then I shall gladly go first." He led her to the edge of the bed. "Wait here."
Anna watched him fill the wash bowl from the pitcher, throw a few sprigs of dried lavender into the water along with a linen square.
Coming back to stand in front of her, he flexed his fingers. "I'm going to undress you, unless you've changed your mind."
"No. I've not changed my mind." Heavens, she had spent years feeling nothing but disdain. She welcomed the multitude of pleasurable emotions coursing through her.
Marcus smiled. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around, began slowly undoing the row of buttons on her dress. Her breath came quick; her head felt light at the touch of his nimble fingers as they traced a line down the length of her back. The garment slithered to the floor. She shivered visibly when he gathered her chemise and pulled it over her head to leave him with a clear view of her naked behind.