He let out a sigh and gently took his shirt and wiped the evidence of his satiated desire away.
She could scarce draw breath, but she knew something was odd. For a long moment, she lay back against the pillows, still half dressed. Dazed, she stared at him, trying to make any sense of the events that had just passed between them.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
He sucked in a slow breath and braced himself on his palms. “No heirs,” he breathed. “Do you recall?”
“Of course,” she said, so languid she could hardly believe she could feel so relaxed.
“If I do this”—he gestured to his shirt—“and we are careful, then we can make love whenever we please. But I must pull out before my release every single time or we risk a child. And there are many other ways we can please each other.”
She curled up onto her side and came to sit beside him. “I see.”
“Does that bother you?” he asked gently.
She rested her chin on his shoulder and replied, “I like the idea of doing this with you whenever we wish.” She smiled at him cheekily. “And I’m always eager to learn new things. And you?”
He reached down and cupped her chin. Tilting her face toward his, he gazed at her for several seconds. Her husband—now in every way—pulled her against him and took her mouth in a soft, deep kiss.
And she knew she had her answer.
Dawn light had yet to spill across her bed, but they had never gone to sleep. Victoria smiled to herself with inestimable delight.
“I have no proper words to describe the remarkable nature of what has occurred between us this night,” Victoria assessed honestly, as she tried to make sense of the perfect, languid feel of her body.
Staring up at the Tudor ceiling painted cerulean and interspersed with glittering gold stars, which shone in the sputtering light of the candles, Victoria could scarce believe they had consummated their marriage.
Derek’s muscled chest expanded in deep breaths, but then he pulled her into his arms, cradling her against him.
The thud of her heart pounded against her ear. The masculine scent, so different than her own, surrounded her. Mine, she thought. Of course, such a notion made no sense.
But in that instant, her body, soul, and heart claimed it to be true. They claimed him.
“Anything less and I’d feel an absolute failure,” he confessed before he kissed the top of her head.
He stroked her hair, then trailed his fingertips down her naked back.
“Truly?” she queried.
“I grant many men would not think so, but I do,” he said, oh so slowly, so deliciously tracing his hand up and down her spine. “A woman’s pleasure is paramount. Your pleasure only intensifies mine.”
“It is most strange the ways between men and women, isn’t it?” she mused. “I know so little about it, except from what I’ve read in books, and books don’t really give enough information to explain the complexities of humans and their interactions.”
“Are you sure you wish to study archeology?” He laughed gently, pressing her tightly to him. “Perhaps you’re actually an anthropologist.”
“Why does one have to be only one?” she asked, glancing up at him, giving him a cheeky smile.
“That’s a fair point,” he said. “I’m not sure why one has to choose just one thing in this life.”
“You know, the ancients didn’t,” she said. “Even the men of the Renaissance didn’t. They all believed that one could be more than just one thing. One could be a warrior and an excellent dancer. A politician and a remarkable pianist. A mathematician and a painter. I don’t know why we limit ourselves so,” she lamented.
“You are most philosophical,” he said. “I have very few wits at present.”
She laughed. “Why?”
“They have all been spent,” he said.
“Truly?”