“You are suggesting we should disrobe.”

His skin tone does not permit an obvious blush, but I am still certain he does exactly that. His voice loses its usual confidence. “Y-yes. That is to say, we ought to remove some of our outer layers, at least until we are warmer. I will turn my back, of course, and avert my gaze as much as is possible, to allow you your modesty.”

“If anything I have said or done has led you to believe I am a woman of modesty, then I have given entirely the wrong impression. Would I be comfortable sitting naked at the fire? No. I wish I were, but I am not yet that woman. Would I be comfortable in my underthings? Certainly, and if you still wish to avert your gaze . . . or if you wish me to do the same, then we shall do so.”

He relaxes. “That is very practical of you, crécerelle, and I appreciate it.”

“Oh, there is no practicality at all. I simply wish to see you in your undergarments.”

He laughs, relaxing more, as I assure him I am teasing and he may undress as much or as little as he wishes. I do turn my back for that part. I cannot help it. I might abhor the ridiculous degree to which I am expected to hide myself, lest my bare skin inflame male passions, but I have still internally recognized my society’s limits and the perils of ignoring them altogether. So I have my back to Nicolas as I strip off my outer garments, leaving on only my bottom layer of clothing—my corset and drawers.

I turn to see Nicolas studiously gazing upon the cave wall, which is very sweet, particularly in that it affords me the opportunity to enjoy the sight of him without being seen doing so. He has taken off both his shirt and undershirt, leaving his upper body bare, and it is . . . Oh my, it is a sight to behold.

One of my friends, who shares my interest in carnal matters, is fond of working-class men. Stable hands and blacksmiths and such. She waxes rhapsodic about their physiques. My lovers have been men of my own class and higher, not given to athletic endeavors more strenuous than a good fox hunt. I will admit I have admired the muscular forearms on a groom or dockworker, but I presumed that was mostly because it was more exposed skin than I would see on a man of my own class.

I was mistaken.

Nicolas’s class is above my own, so that is not the explanation. While I have seen powerfully built men of nobility, I never see them in anything except long sleeves and buttoned collars. I will also say that Nicolas is not constructed like a strapping dockworker, with forearms the size of my thighs. His build is slighter, and as such, it is perfection in its lines and symmetry. His bare back and arms show a man fond of athleticism and not afraid of hard work, the result being a physique that has me growing very warm, despite being in wet and cold underthings.