“Not unless I cut myself.”
When he finished, he rinsed the soap from his face and drew his shirt over his head. Maura was unprepared for the shock of heat that flooded her at the sight of his smoothly muscled torso.
Beaufort started to remove his breeches, but when he caught her staring at him, his hands stilled on the waistband.
“I should have warned you I am about to undress,” he said with a grin. “You are welcome to watch me bathe, if you like.”
Cheeks aflame, Maura quickly turned away.
Behind her, Beaufort finished stripping off his borrowed clothes. When she heard him step into the tub, she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder.
His back was to her, but the golden glow of firelight highlighted his naked beauty. He was starkly masculine, with broad shoulders, narrow hips, taut buttocks, and sinewed thighs and calves.
Her stomach tightening with awareness, Maura averted her gaze and did her best to ignore the ripples of sexual attraction that were coursing through her.
She heard him sink into the water, then splash as he soaped his body with a cloth. It was perhaps five minutes later when he stood and stepped out of the tub. Her gaze was unconsciously drawn to him again as he reached for a linen towel to dry himself.
A small gasp escaped her when she caught sight of his body in profile. She had never seen a nude man before other than sculptures or paintings. Her fascinated gaze followed the line of wet dark hair trailing down his belly and settled on his loins. He was completely aroused, Maura realized, her throat going dry.
He seemed not the least embarrassed by her scrutiny, yet his smile was wry when he spoke. “You do have a certain effect on me, I confess.”
He had an unmistakable effect on her as well. His presence was powerfully seductive, even across the room.
She couldn’t find her voice to respond, though.
“Why do you seem so startled by my appearance?” he asked as he moved toward the fire and used the towel to rub his hair dry.
“You are not … what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
His form was that of a Greek god’s, Maura decided, but in one respect, he was built very much like a stallion. His shaft was thick and long—although the nest of dark curling hair that cradled his phallus was somewhat different from a male horse’s.
“I thought your male … extremities would resemble a statue, not a stallion.”
“I shall take that as a compliment,” he said, humor lacing his voice.
“My observation was not intended as flattery,” she protested. “I was merely comparing facts. You have hair there … where a stallion does not.”
He laughed softly. “I can see how your knowledge of male anatomy could be warped by all the time spent in your breeding stables.”
Maura lowered her eyebrows at him. “You think my naïveté humorous?”
“No, darling, I think your naïveté charming. As a gently reared young lady, you are expected to have limited sexual experience.”
He was ribbing her, although gently, she realized. “I am not completely ignorant,” she professed. “I know how horses mate. And I must admit, it does not look pleasant.”
“How so?”
“A stallion mounts a mare from behind, and there is a great deal of grunting and squealing. While it might be gratifying for him, I doubt the mare finds the procedure very enjoyable.”
“Pr
ocedure?” Amusement danced in his eyes as he turned fully to face her. He had wrapped the now-damp towel around his lean hips, but the sculpted muscles in his chest and shoulders and arms still proved a distraction. “Lovemaking between humans is hardly a ‘procedure,’ ” he said. “And we people usually prefer to face each other when we make love.”
“I realize that,” she murmured. She might know little about carnal relations, but she’d had enough whispered discussions with her friends to understand the rudimentaries of lovemaking.
“I assure you, a frontal coupling can be exceedingly enjoyable,” Beaufort added, “although varying positions can add spice.”