Free Beguiling the Beauty by Sherry Thomas Page B

about such things. That she was in his bed was another aberration. In his liaisons, he preferred to set the itinerary, to leave or stay as he chose. But this time, he’d ceded the control to her: She wanted to conquer her fear, and that appealed to his sense of gallantry.
     
    He lifted a strand of her hair and wound it about his fingers. “I’m glad you decided to reconsider my proposition.”
     
    Against his shoulder, she made a sound, something of a
humfft
.
     
    He let go of her hair, turned her face, and kissed her on her mouth. “What made you change your mind?”
     
    Her answer was the same
humfft
, but she tensed again—he felt it in the set of her jaw.
     
    He had an idea why she might not be keen on speaking to him: She probably thought he’d propositioned her randomly and she still hadn’t made peace with her eventual acceptance.
     
    “There is an interesting contradiction to you. You hide your face, but your gait is anything but retiring.”
     
    Not only did he want her to stay, tonight he’d be the one to make conversation as well—quite a reversal for a man who was more accustomed to seeking his solitude afterward.
     
    “Oh?” she murmured against his cheek.
     
    “You walk with a certain swagger. Not a strut, mind you, but a confident, assertive gait. A woman out and about with her face covered can expect a great deal of attention, which can be daunting. But you carry on as if this attention is the least of your concerns, as if you daily part a sea of staring eyes.”
     
    She stirred. “And
that
interests you?”
     
    “Your
reasons
interest me. I asked myself whether you might be a fugitive, and decided no, the veil makes you far too visible. There is also a small chance you are a Musulman, but no Musulman woman who takes the trouble to cover her face entirely would be caught dead traveling unaccompanied. Which leaves two possibilities. One, you simply do not wish to show anyone your face, and two, there is something highly irregular about your features.”
     
    She pulled away. “You’ve a taste for deformed women, sir? Is that why you asked me to be your lover?”
     
    “Did I ever ask you to be my lover?”
     
    “Of course you—” She stopped.
     
    When he’d stated that he’d like to know her better,
she’d
been the one to ask whether he was looking for a lover.
     
    “When you instantly jumped to the conclusion that I’d like to sleep with you, you answered my question. A woman of highly irregular features might be suspicious about my interest in her, but she is unlikely to immediately accuse me of a lascivious overture. You, on the other hand, take it for granted that a man’s interest in you lies in that direction.
     
    “Since there is nothing physically wrong with you, if I were to pretend I did not have some carnal curiosity about you, I’d be lying. So, yes, I acknowledged that component of my intent. But if you’d asked, I’d have told you that I was more interested in the why of you than the naked pleasures of your body.” It was strangely easy to talk to this faceless woman in the dark, as if he were speaking to the sea or the sky. He brushed her hair back from her shoulder. “Although, had I known just how monumental were the naked pleasures you’d bring into the bargain, I’d have pursued you with much greater vigor.”
     
    He must have failed abysmally at explaining himself—or offended her anew. For she pushed away from him and sat up.
     
    “I should go.”
     
    W ould you like me to help you find your clothes? They might be scattered around—I’m afraid I wasn’t too careful about collecting them in a neat pile.”
    His German was quite nimble and there was a smile in his voice. She bit her lower lip. Why hadn’t she planned things better? How would she be able to find everything in the dark—and dress herself to a semblance of decency?
     
    He left the bed the same time she did. “This is something of yours. This is mine. What is this? A