her. At last, his erection filled her. She remembered the nudge high in her sensitive womb that confirmed he was fully embedded. “John? Tell me. How many women have you been with during the last eight years?” “Would you believe me if I told you not a single one?” She slid her fingers into his hair and stared up into his face—so serene and kind and trustworthy—she thought. “Truly?” “Truly. I had my fill of women I didn’t want. I thought that it was my duty to wait for the one woman that I did want. It wasn’t always easy but I didn’t want that life anymore.” “Even if I never wanted you?” “Even if,” he said. He smiled sweetly. It was then she noticed that his hips were thrusting in slow movements—in and out—and the buildup of pleasure sent sharp tingles and warm delirium through her body. He tugged at her bodice and lifted one breast free before he began sucking. How was it possible to know nothing about a person and yet know that person might be…? She could not think such thoughts. Not when she had a son to raise. No. It was better to live for today. Let each of their nights together be their last and enjoy it accordingly. She determinedly forgot those things that bothered her about such an illicit assignation. It was surprisingly easy to do with John over her and inside her, gently carrying her along as if her pleasure was all that mattered to him. “I can do so many things to you, Lucy. Things that will make you weep. Things that will make you scream. Or I can worship you and your body with slow care until you beg me for more.” Lucy squirmed in his arms, feeling the uncomfortable tightness in her back. She arched into him, searching for relief, already wanting to beg. One hand gripped her bottom and lifted her as he pushed hard and deep. The fabric of his trousers rubbed against her thighs. She clenched her eyes tight while the gentle euphoria spread, taking her to a new existence. She squeezed against his cock, trying to hold on to the feeling and it lasted… But not long enough. She came crashing back to reality as her sheath contracted. John was kissing her face and neck, murmuring loving words that she had never heard in all of her marriage. When she could breathe normally, he rolled from her. She opened her eyes and watched as his hand gripped his erection and began a slow stroke up and down the impressive length. She rolled to her side and watched, both fascinated and curious. “Why?” she asked. “I cannot give you children, Lucy.” Of course not. Once again, she had not fully thought out the consequences. Rather than spoil the moment with her sudden doubts, she cupped his testes where they were strained and bunched against his unmentionables. He gasped even though she had only touched him lightly. As he stroked, his breathing became erratic and his chest heaved. She wasn’t sure if her touch had any effect until he said, “Don’t stop. I’ve never been touched so—” He gasped in the midst of his statement. Lucy stared as a milky stream roped across his stomach and drizzled over their fingers. No, she had not counted the cost. In the end John couldn’t have full freedom when they bedded each other. It was romantic to consider that they would have such bliss each night they spent together but they must consider the days too. So she tried to be serious. What little thought she had was her own selfish nature asserting itself. “We could never marry.” “In the eyes of God or because you could never marry a man like me?” He reached for his shirt and wiped at the mess on his stomach before he rearranged himself and buttoned his breeches. He remained sanguine, accepting. “Don’t place me in such an awkward position. I am a duchess.” “You haven’t always been.” “I have a son to raise. A duke. A peer of the realm.” “So you are to remain alone and unhappy while you perform your sacred duty?” “I am not unhappy.” It