“I’ll show you.” He stood and beckoned for her to follow. He led her down a corridor and upstairs. At the door to their bedchamber, he waited. His shirt collar remained loose from where he’d revealed the tattoo. The sight of his skin made her remember what it was like to touch him.

She waited at the threshold, shaking her head. “Why do I sense this is not a good idea?”

“You are entirely too suspicious,” he remarked. Once inside, he sat down and removed his coat, waistcoat, and shoes. “I am the one at your mercy, not the other way around. You might try to force yourself upon me.”

He laid back upon the pillow, his eyes mischievous. “I am willing to risk it, however. You should remove your dress and those damned petticoats first.”

“No.” She wasn’t fooled at all by him. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the doorframe. “Whatever you have to say can be said without me disrobing.”

He sighed and caught her wrists. “Trust me, Emily.”

“I don’t trust you at all.” And yet, she let her hands fall to her sides, while he unbuttoned her dress. “Why is it that every time I am alone with you, you keep trying to remove my clothing?”

“Because it’s fun?” he suggested. Turning serious, he continued, “You cannot sleep in that contraption.”

“Sleep?” The idea of sinking into a soft bed was as appealing as a dish of strawberry ice. “But it’s still late afternoon. They’ll be expecting us for supper. And what about the children?”

“Farnsworth will hold our supper for us. And I feel certain that he won’t deny the children their food.” He helped her lift away the heavy petticoats and crinoline before unlacing her stays. Then he leaned back upon the vast bed, patting the pillow beside him.

Emily climbed into bed wearing only her chemise and drawers. He pulled her close. “This is nice,” he said. His arms surrounded her, warm and strong. The spicy scent of his shaving soap made her want to snuggle into his neck. “I slept little last night, between Victoria’s crying and your snoring outside the door.”

“I do not snore.”

“Of course you do. And if you snore while I am napping, I’ll be sure to kick you.” His hand moved below the curve of her breast, his mouth upon her cheek.

If he believed she could fall asleep like this, then the man had gone mad. She wanted to turn toward him, to run her hands inside his shirt and feel the ridges of his muscles. Perhaps if she counted sheep, she might be able to ignore the heat of his skin against hers.

“Do not take advantage of me while I sleep,” she warned, closing her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Emily,” he said. His voice was like a swirl of cream upon chocolate. “If I take advantage of you, you’ll know it.”