Charlotte, her restless body set aflame with the desire evident in his eyes, moved forward.

“STOP!” he yelled, and retreated behind the machine. “Stay there, and stop looking at my chest like that or I won’t be able to control myself.”

“But I don’t want you to control yourself. I want you to be wild, just like your tongue when you kiss me. I’ve never thought a tongue could be so thrilling, but yours is. I like how it dances all over my mouth. I like how it strokes and teases and turns quite bossy with my tongue. And I can’t stop looking at your chest, I like it. I want to touch your chest. I want to taste it, too. Don’t you want me to taste it?”

Dare took a deep, shuddery breath as he ran an agitated hand through his hair. “God give me the strength to survive this night. Stop thinking of my tongue and my chest and the hot silkiness of your mouth and how your breasts fit perfectly into my hands and the alluring way your hips curve just right, and listen to me. What I have to say to you is important. It’s vital that you understand me.”

What with all the talk of hips and breasts and tongues, not to mention the wild, nearly uncontrolled look in her husband’s eyes, Charlotte couldn’t help but blink back disappointment that he wasn’t attacking her and ravishing her on the spot, although she conceded that ravishment on a dirt floor was probably not the most comfortable of experiences.

“Very well,” she said, clutching her hands to keep from reaching out to stroke all that lovely golden skin. “As you don’t wish for me to taste you and touch you and perhaps stroke your manly instrument in the manner that Vyvyan La Blue says is most effective, then I shall stand here and listen to you.”

Dare closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard. Twice. “Thank you.”

“I will, however, continue to think about your tongue.”

A tremor rippled through his powerful frame.

He gripped the machinery before him with both hands. He seemed to be having some sort of difficulty with his jaw, because his words came out tight and sharp. “I am a man of honor. When you trapped me into marriage with you, I was well within my rights to expose you and leave you to the condemnation of the ton. But I didn’t do that. I didn’t allow you to become an object of pity and scorn. I offered for you publicly, and I wed you publicly.”

Charlotte nodded. She stepped to the side to better see his groin.

“You will admit that I could have left you with your breeches dangling around your knees, and walked away without further consequence to me.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. She was familiar enough with male anatomy to know what she was looking at. She waited, watching for the sign.

“That I married you proves I have honor. That I refuse to touch you until such time as I desire it, proves I am in control of my life regardless of your plans otherwise. I will not have a woman, any woman, dictating to me what I shall and shall not do. I realize you want children someday, that you…er…embrace the physical side of marriage, but you must understand that I will be the master in my own home.” Dare paused for a moment, his breath hissing through clenched teeth. Charlotte leaned closer, her eyes on the tautly stretched fabric concealing his manly instrument. Her fingers itched to touch him.