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She let her gaze drift to the towel, its snowy hue shining.

It felt like a dare, like a test, somehow. His command.

How could the fetching of a towel be a dare or a test? But she would not falter, and so she squared her shoulders, crossed to it, picked up the fine linen, then thrust it out to him.

“I think you should dry me off, Cat.”

Her eyes flared at that. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well, you wish to be my mistress,” he said softly. “Don’t you think we should get started?”

He stepped out of the bath and waited, completely at ease, and yet an energy crackled off him, filling the room with his presence.

He gazed down at her, patiently. Waiting for her to run.

It was only then that she realized how tall he was. He towered over her. His long dark hair was dripping drops of water down his muscled chest.

She worried her lower lip. This was what she wanted, after all. This was her chance. She stood fully clothed in a cloak, and he was naked before her, his male person so compelling that she could scarcely draw breath.

She’d never seen anyone like him, and he was telling her to touch him.

Did she dare?

Of course she did.

She was no silly miss to be frightened like a rabbit when her goal was in sight.

She snapped out the linen towel, stared at his hard chest, and immediately placed the linen on it.

He grabbed her hand then. Not harshly, but firmly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. “Catherine,” he said, “wait.”

“But you just said,” she protested.

A tortured look crossed his visage. “Yes, because I wanted to see what you are made of, and you are made of a far harder mettle than most. But I will not have you doing something that you do not wish to do.”

She glared up at him then. “What makes you think that I don’t wish to do this? What makes you think that I don’t wish to take my power right now by drying you with this linen towel and finding out exactly what has been hidden from me?”

He blinked, transfixed, his hand carefully wrapped about her wrist. With gentleness now, rather than hesitation. “You think you can discover what’s been hidden from you by taking that linen towel and running it over my wet skin?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I have been a veritable prisoner in beautiful castles all my life, taught to keep away from men. To not know the mysteries of the male halls of power. But I know this from the books that I have read. Mistresses make policy. Mistresses rule sometimes far more than a wife. And I can have influence over this world in the demimondaine,” she ground out. “And I want that because then I will never have to speak vows. And I will never have to promise my obedience to anyone if I am a mistress.”

He let out a slow breath, then stroked his hand up her arm and cupped her cheek just as he had said he would.

She waited for him to take her mouth, angling her head back.

His gaze wandered over her face, as if he was mapping out the plains of it. “Whatever shall I do with you?”

“You shall kiss me,” she instructed.

He stared down at her, holding back, on the edge himself. “Shall I? It feels like a venture into a land I have not been, for you are a maiden, are you not, Cat?”

“I am,” she replied, her voice hitching slightly in her throat before she continued firmly. “It is part of my whole currency, my stock in trade.” Her lips curled in a rueful smile. “My maidenhood. But I don’t wish it anymore. My currency shall be my mind and how I can use it.”

“You should reconsider,” he said softly. “After all, it’ll make you desired by many, your maidenhead.”

She snorted. “I refuse to wish to be desired for such a thing. The highest bidder is not my concern. I will find my power in other ways. Besides, I know you’re a good man, so I wish to give it to you.”

He drew in a shocked breath. “You wish to give your maidenhead to me because I’m a good man?”


Tags: Eva Devon Historical