Lessons in Pleasure

He stroked her back. “You had given her a song in a lower key, in her natural voice, and it was almost lovely. You saved her from humiliating herself.”

She shook her head.

“And I watched you smiling over Beatrice as she sang, and something in my heart twisted so hard I thought everyone must have noticed. But the evening went on; everyone else was unchanged, but I was a different man.”

Her face turned up to him, eyes swimming with shock.

“I thought in that one moment that I might love you, Sarah.”

“You did?” When she blinked, two fat tears escaped and slipped down her face.

“I did. But that is very near an insult. I didn’t know you. We had not even been introduced. I knew nothing of your quick mind and sly sense of humor. I had no idea that you were kind not only to your friends but also to strangers, even those beneath your notice. I could not know that your shyness would slowly blossom into this fascinating passion.

“And I could not have known that you held such foolish bravery in your quiet soul. That hint of a feeling I had was a shadow compared to how I feel for you now, love.”

“But . . . the doctor. My mother.”

“Nonsense. You are as steady and lovely as the moon. When your father explained the circumstances, he made a point of saying that you had never shown any of your mother’s tendencies to be melodramatic and overemotional, but I did not need to be told that.”

“But it was so clear when I read the book . . .”

“Come. Let’s see it.” He could see obstinacy creeping back into her face, so he simply stood and set her on her feet. “Where is it?”

Five minutes later, he was staring, slack jawed, at the unbelievable nonsense that had been tormenting his poor wife. “This is ridiculous!”

Sarah stopped her pacing and set her jaw. “How could you know that? I have experienced everything listed there. Who are you to say that it doesn’t signify?”

“I . . .” There was no decent way to broach this subject. “I do not wish to offend you.”

She threw her hands in the air. “That is the least of my worries, James!”

Damn. “All right . . . before I knew you . . . That is . . . I had, um, experiences. With other women. Just a few.”

Her expression didn’t budge.

“They all enjoyed themselves. They all experienced pleasure, Sarah. That is rather the point of it. Only the most worthless of men can enjoy himself without regard for his partner.”

Her jaw edged out. She crossed her arms. “But these were harlots, were they not?”

“Um . . .” Ah, Jesus, there was no way around this. “I am not a man who feels comfortable paying for the use of a woman’s body.”

“What does that mean?”

“They were not harlots. They were normal women. Respectable.”

“They could hardly have been respectable, James!”

“Sarah . . . When a woman’s husband dies or leaves her or . . . her need does not fade away, just as a man’s does not. Your body is designed to feel pleasure, and that would not change if I were to die tomorrow.”

“But . . .” Her face twisted in confusion. “The doctor was clear.”

“Damn it,” he growled, sorry that he made her jump, but not willing to back down. “Did he do anything to help your mother? Did she improve? Did she recover?”

“No.”

“Your father made clear to me that she had been under treatment for many years. He said that in the end it made no difference. The doctor did nothing for her. He is a charlatan. A hack.”