While others were about, most were in rowboats. Before shoving off from the shore, he’d removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. In spite of how much of her he’d seen, she realized now that she’d viewed very little of him. She was rather taken with his forearms, the ropy muscle and sinew, the raised veins indicating the strength that resided there. She liked the way the punt glided along the water, almost as though it sat on top of it. It was a smooth and relaxing motion, and she rather enjoyed her view of Matthew. “Did your niece enjoy the book?”

“She did. She especially loved the illustrations.”

“Did you read to her?”

“Not this time. I ended up not staying for dinner.”

“So . . . you and your wife . . . you never had children?”

“The strain of our relationship made that possibility very unlikely.”

“Do you want children?”

“With the right woman, yes.”

“What would make the right woman?” she dared to ask.

He’d discarded his hat as well, no doubt because the breeze would have blown it into the river, so no shadows kept his gaze hidden from her. His eyes were even more green in the sunlight, more intense, and she had the feeling he could see clear through her, knew she found him far more fascinating than any other man she’d met thus far.

“A luscious mouth made for kissing.” His voice was low but still it traveled on the wind to her. “Sultry eyes that belong in a bedchamber. A raspy voice that whispers wicked things in my ear.”

With a scoff, she rolled her eyes. “I think you’ve just described Lottie.”

He laughed, a deep rich sound, and she thought it was the sort of laugh that would make him the right man. “I think every man wants his wife to be a tart in the bedchamber.”

Leaning forward, she placed her elbow on her thigh, her chin in her palm. “Truly?”

“Don’t you want your husband to be a bit of a scoundrel when it comes to bedding you?”

She couldn’t believe they were discussing this topic on the river, in the open where anyone might hear—even if presently no one was within hearing distance. She looked toward the trees. “I’m not certain I know enough about it to determine precisely what I want.” She peered up at him. “I suppose when it comes down to it, in or out of the bedchamber, I want to feel I can be as open with him as I am with you.”

“Do you feel that way about the gents who called on you yesterday?”