At her rushed, breathless explanation, a surge of tender amusement stirred inside Ash, yet her reply still didn’t satisfy him. “Your nervousness doesn’t explain why you only now decided we should become lovers.”
“I told you why. We may only have a few days left together before we go our separate ways, and I want to make the most of them.”
Her conviction that they would be going their separate ways did not sit well with Ash, yet he couldn’t refute her rationale. Nor could he claim that bedding Maura would make any difference to their current relationship, or to their future. Just because they became lovers did not mean they had to marry. If he took her now, he was not necessarily sealing their fate forever.
“I want to be with you, Ash,” she added when he was silent. “Even if it won’t last. Please, stay with me tonight.”
“Not unless you are certain of your own mind.”
“I am certain. I am four and twenty and I am unlikely to ever marry. I don’t want to die a barren spinster without ever knowing what it is like to have a lover.”
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As declarations went, that was unsatisfying also, although he should be pleased that she had finally let down her guard with him enough to give him her body. And even if she wasn’t professing her undying devotion to him, he couldn’t force himself to turn down her offer. It felt natural and right being with Maura, and he could finally sate his powerful, possessive desire for her.
However, there were other considerations. “You realize that if there is a child, we would have to wed?”
“But there won’t be a child. I know how to prevent that from happening.”
Crossing to her bedside table, she opened a drawer and drew out a small pouch. He knew exactly what the pouch contained since two of his former mistresses had relied on the same precautions.
“Sponges? Where did you get those?”
Her blush suggested embarrassment. “It doesn’t matter.”
She was right, he conceded. It didn’t matter how she had learned a Cyprian’s tricks. And even without sponges, he could withdraw from her body to keep his seed from taking root, if he found the willpower.…
His continued silence made Maura frown, though. “I did not expect you to refuse my invitation, Ash. Do you not want to make love to me?”
“Certainly I do. I would have to be dead not to want it.”
“Then why are you waiting?” she demanded in a disgruntled, impatient tone. “I should not have to beg and plead with a rake like you.”
Ash felt a quiver of tender laughter deep in his chest. “No, you shouldn’t. Very well then, you are welcome to seduce me.”
She still looked discomfited by his suggestion. “What should I do?”
“You can begin by kissing me.”
Dutifully she took a step closer and raised her face to his. Her warm, soft lips were pliant and willing, yet he could feel the tension in her body when he divested Maura of her nightdress and tossed it aside.
Ash began talking to ease her nervousness as he shed his own clothing, starting with his robe. “I confess surprise that you are taking such care to prevent conception. You don’t want children of your own?”
The diversion seemed to work, for her expression immediately softened. “Yes, I do want children, although not outside of marriage. I’ve helped to birth any number of foals and have seen the miracle firsthand. It is the most amazing thing imaginable.”
“I will take your word for it.”
“Have you never seen a foal being born?”
Her question somehow seemed endearing, as if it was perfectly common for a genteel young lady to know about such things as equine birth.
“I can’t say that I have.”
“You have missed out on a remarkable experience. When a foal tries to rise on its spindly little legs to take its first steps toward its mother … well, there is nothing more precious.”
Ash smiled to himself as he projected his thoughts into the future. If Maura was half as good with children as she was with horses, she would make a wonderful mother.
He very much liked the idea of Maura being the mother of his children, Ash thought as he paused for a moment to look his fill of her. She was perfect, from her ripe breasts, to her slender waist, to her gently flaring hips, to her creamy thighs, to her long, shapely calves and feet. He could picture her lovely body swollen with his son or daughter—an image that warmed him to his core.