They had crossed the threshold to his room, and he released her, closing the door to shut them away from the rest of the world. And for a moment, she wanted to reach out to him, to cling for support. Or run away. The world had gone mad and would take her with it if she thought too closely about what was happening to her. Then he came back to stand very near to her, and he kissed her on the back of the neck as he had in the park. It was sweet and soft, not like she had imagined the kisses of her despoiler to be. 'I wish to touch your hair.' There was a faintly wistful quality in his voice, as though he thought she could deny him.
She moved to the mirror above the tall dresser and pulled the remaining pins from her hair, ready to shake it free. And then she caught sight of him, watching as though mesmerized by the sight. She basked in the warmth of it, for his gaze was as gentle as the touch of his hands had been, when bringing her here. Though his words had been seductive, everything about his actions calculated to reassure and not threaten, to coax the responses from her gradually. Her anger faded as she watched him, and he felt it go. And then he paused to look into her eyes, and breathed, 'Let us undress.'
The anger came flooding back, and anxiety along with it. She did not see the note that she had come to retrieve. And how much longer did she wish to play this game, before bringing it to an end? Shedding a few hairpins and a pair of gloves did little damage to her honour. But she could not very well strip to her chemise before springing her trap. Or perhaps she could. For it was difficult to see the man standing so reverently in front of her as a true adversary. She took a moment to gather her courage, and reached to undo one of the tiny hooks at her back.
He shook his head. 'Let us undress each other.' And he caught one of her hands in his, rubbed the knuckles across his lips until he felt her fingers begin to relax, and then placed them on the end of his cravat.
She paused for a moment, unsure, still waiting for the move on his part that would give her reason to strike back. And then she took hold and gave a gentle tug, watching as the elegant knot dissolved into a wrinkled strip of linen and dropped to the floor.
His neck was bare. It had never occurred to her to look at a man's throat before. She was so used to seeing them covered. She reached up and touched him. He was soft and smooth, close shaven though it was late in the day. Perhaps he had done it for her. And without thinking, she undid the neck of his shirt and let her fingers linger in the hollow of his throat.
His eyes closed as though he were sleeping and lost in some very pleasant dream. And then, he leaned forward and kissed her again, one hand cupping the back of her neck. He was bolder this time, opening her mouth and letting her feel his hunger as he slowly licked into her and drew her tongue into his mouth. She should not enjoy this. And yet she did. Her hand still rested against his throat, and she could feel the way his pulse increased as he grew more passionate. He pulled away, to kiss the hollow of her throat, bending her back to lay his cheek against her exposed chest and press his lips to the upper slopes of her breasts. As a counterpoint to the dizzying feel of the contact, she felt the barest touch of fingertips at her back. And when he withdrew, her dress was open and loose against her body, the sleeves slipping off her shoulders.
He touched her face, then, placing his fingers under her chin and tipping her lips up to touch his. And he whispered, 'You are beautiful tonight. Even more beautiful under the silk you wear. And I swear by all that is holy that if you give yourself to me, you will not regret it.' He kissed her again, pressing his lips to her cheek, her hair and her neck, and wrapping his arms around her body.
He was warm, and it took away the chill on her back, so she nestled close to him, putting her arms around his waist under his coat. After a time, he whispered, 'Would you help me off with my coat, please?'
It was not such a hard thing to run her hands up his body until they reached his shoulders and to push the wool away from him. The coat fell to the floor. She glanced down at it, ready to bend and pick it up, for it would become wrinkled if they left it in a heap.
But he sighed, 'Unimportant,' against the shell of her ear.
And when he used that tone, it did seem so. He was making her feel as if she was the thing most important to him in the world. She laid her head on his shoulder, and felt how different it was. Now that the coat was gone, she could feel more of the man and less of the tailor. And she felt a strange stirring, as the outlines of his body were uncovered to her.
His hand was on her back, fingers spread to span it, and he rubbed gently, his other hand stroking her neck and her hair. And the buttons of his waistcoat were poking against her chest, so she undid them, one by one, and pushed it out of the way.
His breathing quickened and he kissed her again, running his tongue along the seam in her lips until she opened them again. The taste of him amazed her. It was wine and spice, and she could not seem to get enough of it. When she stopped for breath, she found that they had pushed her gown out of the way, until it hung from her body at the hip, and his waistcoat had followed his coat to the floor.
He looked down, and gave a shaky laugh. 'My valet will be appalled.'