She pondered that a moment. She and her sisters had sometimes discussed the realities of marriages arranged by their father. Not the passionate part that Jasper was describing, for none of them had any better understanding of those mechanics than Thomasina did.

But they had spoken about the loss of freedom and autonomy over themselves. It was a shared fear.

And yet here Thomasina was, a few days from a forced marriage to a man who inspired a great deal of conflicted emotion in her…and he was offering her independence. Ownership over her own life.

And not for the first time, she silently thanked Anne for being so reckless and leaving her unwanted fiancé to Thomasina. Even though those thoughts were wrong. Even if she feared for her sister, she wanted this man.

So she nodded. “Show me then.”

He let out a broken breath and then leaned in to kiss her once more. She felt his hands moving even as she lifted her own to rest against his hard chest. His fingers glided up her sides until she shivered, then around the back of her dress to unfasten her buttons.

She broke away from his mouth as he did so and stared up at him. “You’re going to—to undress me?”

He nodded, though his hands stilled. “I want to see you, Thomasina.”

She hesitated at that request. To see her undressed felt like a huge leap. Would he like what he saw? But then again, it would happen whether it was tonight or in a few days, and since he had claimed he would not take her tonight, that meant she would have more time to become accustomed to his eyes on her. His hands.

She nodded and slowly turned to grant him more access to the back of her gown. He finished flicking each button open and then his hands glided inside, between her dress and her chemise beneath. They exhaled together, a matching breath, as he pushed the fabric forward until her gown dropped around her wrists. She pushed it away and he tugged, pooling the fabric at her feet.

She wore a chemise and flimsy little drawers, and beneath were her silk stockings, held up by ribbon that matched the color of her now-discarded dress. As if he had been meant to see her like this when she chose her clothing before supper that evening.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear behind her.

She gripped her hands into fists on the mattress, her heart racing so fast she was certain he could hear it.

“Please,” he added, and then he pressed his mouth to the place on her neck just behind her ear.

She gripped the coverlet tighter as a tiny cry escaped her lips. What was he doing to that exquisitely sensitive spot she hadn’t ever known existed? It was like he’d found a place to touch her that lit her entire being on fire. Except she wanted to burn.