She stood up, leaning Cortana against the wall. The red tea gown she wore was loose but of clinging silk material, with bands of black velvet ribbon at the hem and sleeves. Her hair was a shade darker than the silk, her eyes the same color as the velvet, and fixed on his as she climbed onto the bed. “Adequate to what I need, I think,” she said. “I want you to kiss me.”

His blood seemed to speed up in his veins. “What?”

She was kneeling, facing him; their eyes were on a level. The gown spread around her as if she were a water lily, rising from leaves. Its deep collar plunged low, edged with white lace that feathered lightly against her brown skin. There was a look on her face that reminded James of her expression the night she’d danced at the Hell Ruelle. A determination close to passion.

“You will one day find your way back to Grace, who knows of our situation,” she said. “But I will marry some other man, and he will know I was married to you. He will expect me to know how to kiss, and—do other things. I do not expect a complete tutorial, but I think I could reasonably ask that you show me how kissing is done.”

He remembered Cordelia dancing, all fire. He remembered the moments after that, in the Whispering Room. He could say to her that she hardly needed any teaching from him; she knew how to kiss. But his mind was consumed with the thought of this man, some man she would marry in future, who would kiss her and expect things from her—

James hated him already. He felt dizzy with it—with rage toward someone he did not know, and with how near she was to him.

“Get on top of me,” he said, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears.

It was her turn to look surprised. “What—?”

“I am tied to the bed,” he said. “I cannot get up and kiss you, so I will have to sit here and kiss you. Which means I need you”—he held out his free arm, his gaze never leaving hers—“closer.”

She nodded. A flush had spread across her face, but otherwise she watched him, wide-eyed and serious, as she moved across the bed toward him, crawling a little awkwardly into his lap. His blood was already running hot and fast through his veins as she settled her knees on either side of his hips. Her face was close to his now: he could see the dark individual lines of her eyelashes, the movement of her lower lip as she took it between her teeth.

“Tell me again what you want me to do,” he said.

The smooth column of her throat moved as she swallowed. “Show me how to kiss,” she said. “Properly.”