They began to work steadily, although Phyllida did wonder what on earth any society lady with her ear to the keyhole would make of it.
‘… six naturalistic carvings in ivory of phalli, possibly French. Size, improbable.’ Startled, she glanced up to find Ashe eyeing one of the objects with scepticism. ‘Well, I ask you! Have you ever seen…? No, of course not.’ He slammed the lid down on another completed crate. ‘This stuff is about as erotic as a plate of boiled cabbage.’
‘If you say so.’ Phyllida drew a neat line and wrote a new heading for the next box.
Finally Ashe hammered a crate closed. ‘That, thankfully, is the lot. I just hope it was worth the work.’
‘It will make a thousand, possibly,’ Phyllida said, running her pen down the list.
‘Pounds?’
‘Guineas. Gentlemen will pay high figures for erotica.’
‘They’d do better to spend it on flesh-and-blood women.’ He sat on the edge of the desk next to her, one booted foot swinging, took the pen and put it firmly back in the standish.
‘You do not enjoy looking at it?’ she asked boldly, th
inking of the tales of Indian love texts.
‘Nothing is as arousing as being close to a lovely woman, touching her skin.’ His fingers ran slowly over the back of her hand. ‘Watching her pupils dilate.’ He held her eyes with his. ‘Seeing the colour come up under her skin as though an artist has brushed it with the palest wash of rose.’ His other hand lifted to caress her cheek. ‘That stuff in the boxes is for men who don’t have a woman or who are incapable of making love to one if they have.’
‘I thought India was famous for its erotic texts.’
‘Those are for a man and a woman to use together. In the Far East they call them pillow books. You will enjoy them.’
It was a promise that had the fine hairs standing up all over her body. Phyllida shivered. ‘When we are married.’
‘Why wait that long?’ His fingers slid up into her hair, capturing her, holding her for his kiss.
‘Not here,’ Phyllida said against his lips. ‘We cannot—’
‘No,’ Ashe agreed. ‘Not here.’ His tongue, firm and insistent, caressed along the seam of her lips, wanting entrance.
‘I mean, not at all. Not until we are married.’ It had to be said, but it was a mistake to open her mouth at that moment. The words were swallowed by his kiss and she let herself go with them, unable to resist the urgings of her own feelings, needing to touch him, hold him.
He broke the kiss, not she. And it should have been her, she knew it and could not find it in herself to feel guilty. He’s mesmerised me, she thought, her hands still fastened on his lapels, her back arched against the chair rail. But, no, she could not blame him. Persuade, not seduce, Ashe had said. He was showing her what she wanted, needed as much as he did. It was up to her to resist.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Are you frightened of consequences, of becoming pregnant?’ Ashe asked with the directness she was coming to expect from him. ‘It is such a short time until we will be married that it need not worry you.’
I cannot because I am not a virgin and there is no way I can explain to you why that is so. How would he react when he realised? With revulsion? Would he blame her, think her wanton? It would be hypocritical of him, of course, but men held women to different standards than they applied to themselves.
Might she deceive him into thinking her a virgin? She had no idea how to go about that. Besides, she shrank from the deceit. I cannot because if I do lie with you now and you believe me a virgin, then nothing is going to persuade you that we must not wed.
Phyllida rested her forehead against Ashe’s shirtfront and tried to find some composure, some strength of will. It occurred to her that, of all the reasons she had for not making love with him, the fact that society would say it was immoral mattered not at all.
‘No,’ she said after a while. How long had she been sitting there? Ashe was warm and strong and she could hear his heartbeat and his hands around her felt so good she could stay like this for ever. ‘No. I want to. You know that, of course. But, no.’
‘Very well,’ he said, his voice a deep rumble against her ear. ‘I see I must be patient. But you will let me know if you change your mind? There are many things that would give us both pleasure that would still allow you to go up the aisle a virgin.’
‘Stop it!’ Phyllida pushed back against his chest and he let her go. She swung round and got to her feet, retreating to the far side of the room while he remained sitting on the edge of the desk.
‘I am merely trying to persuade you of the joys of marriage,’ Ashe said mildly.
‘ Marriage being the operative word! And I do not believe this has anything to do with me and my feelings. You are trying to reconcile yourself to the marriage by telling yourself if the physical side is good, then that is all we need to worry about. Your confounded sense of honour is telling you that you must marry me, but you do not want to. Not with your head—that knows how unsuitable I am—and certainly not with your heart, because I do not believe for a moment that you are in love with me.’
‘Love?’ Ashe stood up abruptly. ‘Why did you have to drag that into it? Why is it that women must imagine all relationships are about love?’