He continued undressing, as casually as if it were an everyday occurrence to be inside her bedroom after dark. “You might rather hear it in the morning. It will disrupt your sleep otherwise.”

She watched him remove his cravat and unfasten the top buttons of his shirt collar. Her pulse skipped. “My sleep is already going to be disrupted.”

He shrugged out of his waistcoat, draping it across the back of a chair in the corner, before bending to remove his boots.

“I’ve never shared a bed with anyone before,” she said. “Not even with a friend or relation.”

He glanced up at her. His mouth hitched in a smile. “Nervous?”

“A little,” she admitted.

“Don’t be.”

Laura smoothed her blanket over her lap with unsteady hands. It was easy for him to say. No doubt he’d shared his bed with dozens of women.

He straightened to untuck his shirt from his trousers. Reaching a hand behind his neck, he stripped the loose-fitting linen garment off over his head.

She sucked in a sharp breath. His bare torso was all lean muscle and bronzed skin. Strong, and powerful, and rather thrilling to look at. She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away.

He cast her another look. A flush of color darkened his neck. “You’re staring.”

She brought her hands to cover her face, squeezing her eyes tight as she stifled a mortified groan. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

He didn’t reply. Not in words. But she heard the sound of fabric rustling, of feet padding across the carpet to the bed.

A flash of panic constricted her chest. Dear lord, had he removed his trousers? She wasn’t ready for such intimacy.

The mattress depressed beside her, the ancient four-poster bed creaking as he sat down. “Open your eyes,” he said gently.

She did as he asked, darting a wary glance downward. He was still wearing his trousers. Not only that, he’d put his shirt back on. Her gaze lifted to his, confused. “What—?”

“Let’s not complicate things. Not until we’ve talked.”

Her bosom rose and fell with equal parts relief and disappointment. She didn’t know what she wanted him to do—or not to do. Her emotions were in a tangle. “You must think me an absolute ninny.”

“I think you charming.” He reached out and very softly brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “Charming. Beautiful. Brave beyond measure.”

“Not brave. I’m quivering with nerves. And my face must be as red as a tomato.”

His fingers traced the edge of her jaw. “Your blushes enthrall me.”

She trembled at his touch. “I can’t imagine why.”

“I suppose because there’s not much that can inspire them.”

“You inspire them. And with some regularity, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

His half smile briefly spread into a full one. “Is that it? No wonder I’m so fond of them.”

“Alex—”