He moved his strong, warm fingers up to her ankles. Did he have any idea of the effect he was having on her?
Her legs tingled in the most amazing way, and a totally inappropriate desire for his hands to move higher beset her.
"And will the gowns show a great deal of your bosom?"
"What?" How could he expect her to think when her body was on fire?
He repeated his question, the amusement conspicuously absent from his voice.
"No. I was quite firm and would not allow her to cut them any lower than my current fashion. I have no intention of contracting the ague because the English style dictates too little fabric in one's gowns."
"Good."
She didn't respond. She was too busy trying to deal with the feelings elicited by the move of his hands from her ankles to the lower portion of her legs. He alternated between caressing her with soft light strokes and kneading her muscles. It felt delicious and relaxing, but also wonderfully intimate.
How had she gone so long without his touch? She wanted, no needed, to feel his hands on her bare skin again. All of her.
She opened her eyes and found him looking at her. The flames in his eyes matched the firestorm blazing inside her.
"Are you by any chance trying to seduce me?" she asked with mortifying breathlessness.
His fingertips inched above her knees, sending frissons of pleasure arcing up her inner thighs to the core of her. "Do you want me to?"
"Yes." Then the reality of what she was saying intruded. "I mean no."
She tried to pull her legs from his grasp, but he wouldn't let go. One hand held her legs while the other continued the incendiary caresses.
"We can't do this."
His fingertips slipped onto skin that no other man had ever touched. "Why not?"
For a minute she couldn't remember any good reasons to stop. She searched her mind frantically while his touch sent thought after thought flying to oblivion.
Oh, yes. "A baby. We might make a baby."
His hand did not still its movements. "That would be bad?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Feverish with excitement, she tried to remember why her getting pregnant would be a bad thing. The image of her body big with Drake's child was more alluring than any ankles ever could be, and it was only with great effort that she was able to remember her objection to the idea. "Then you would insist on marriage."
He leaned toward her until his lips almost touched her own. "Thea, you are a very intelligent woman."
"Thank you," she breathed.
"But sometimes your stubbornness overcomes your insight."
She frowned. What was he trying to say?
"I will insist on marriage anyway." Then his lips were on hers, hot and demanding.
Giving up any attempt at rational thought, she fell into the kiss with all the enthusiasm at her disposal.
Drake exulted in Thea's wholehearted response as his mouth devoured hers.
She writhed against him with the same sweet abandon that she had exhibited on the ship. Did she have any idea of the effect her passion had on him? Without breaking the kiss, he s