Catherine watched in amazement. At first glance she hadn’t thought too highly of a man’s anatomy. She had actually thought the male physique odd. The odd part being the one that jutted out like a prideful peacock. Naturally the intimate act required such a protrusion, from what she had heard.
But at the moment he didn’t protrude and he reminded her of a sleek muscled panther, long in limbs, graceful in movement and confident in his abilities. He could stalk, he could capture, and he could devour with ease. Her thoughts chilled her, but she hid the shiver that ran up her spine and warned herself to remember well the predator she had so richly compared him to.
Lucian took a smaller towel from the stack of towels that sat on a narrow cabinet next to the washstand and vigorously dried his hair. Satisfied that only dampness remained; he tossed the towel to the floor to join his wet clothes and ran his fingers through his hair. He focused his eyes on Catherine. Surprisingly, she was staring right back at him and with the most enthralled look.
She spoke honestly and without forethought, a habit her father often warned her needed correcting. “You are quite a specimen of a man.
“A compliment?”
“A fact.”
Lucian finished combing his hair with his fingers as he spoke. “Then I assume you are comparing me to your previous lovers and find them sadly lacking in manly attributes.”
Catherine smiled. “And I thought women were vain with their constant need for attention. Is it a compliment you are fishing for, Captain? Do you wish to hear that I find you more appealing than any man I have ever known? That you and you alone send my heart to fluttering? Easy enough words to utter.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Tell me, Lucian. Tell me what you want to hear.”
Damn, but she made him sound like a petulant little boy needing praise and stroking and her seductive whisper promised just that.
Catherine tempted fate further by stretching her arms out to him. “Come, Captain, come to me.”
Lucian advanced on her in quick strides.
Catherine froze and attempted not to show her fear. Had she gone too far this time? Why in heaven’s name had she so blatantly summoned him? Her breath caught in her throat as he neared her.
Lucian stopped short of her and casually walked around the table until he was close enough to reach out for the bottle of wine. He picked it up and poured himself and Catherine a glass.
“I’m curious, Catherine,” he said, handing her a glass of red wine. “Who introduced you to sex?”
His obtrusive question startled her. Sex was never mentioned, much less discussed with the opposite sex. Ladies followed their husband’s dictates where the primal act was concerned and never questioned the matter.
Time had rapidly caught up with her and she had barely the slightest notion about sex. She was aware that she shouldn’t be discussing the subject with the infamous Captain Lucifer, but then he didn’t consider her a lady. And she intended to see that his opinion of her remained so.
“Have there been so many lovers since your first that you can’t recall the man, or was it a disappointing experience you prefer to forget?” Lucian asked, having taken the seat opposite her at the table.
“I was thinking of the pleasant memories,” she said, and sipped at her wine, hoping the soft dry flavor would help relax her.
“Pleasant, not memorable?”
Catherine took another sip of wine. A tiny drop of wine lingered on her bottom lip and she hastily licked the drop away with the tip of her small tongue before she spoke. “Pleasantly memorable,” she corrected.
Memorable. Lord, but he’d have a hard time chasing away the memory of her narrow tongue skillfully scooping up that drop of wine. He wondered what other tantalizing feats her tongue could perform.
He reached for the wine bottle and poured himself another glass. “Tell me about him.”
Catherine looked puzzled. “Who?”
Lucian raised his glass in a salute to the unknown man. “Your first lover.”
“Benjamin,” she said with such a genuinely happy smile that it irritated Lucian so much that he fussed in his seat as though pricked by a thousand pins.
“I was positively mad about him,” she continued, her eyes sparking with delight as she called to mind Benjamin Bristle, Earl of Combstock. He had been a friend of her father’s and she had been all of fourteen and in the throes of a hopeless crush. He had been a perfect gentleman, never once hurting her feelings by reminding her of their considerable age difference. He had been tolerant and patient with her youth and therefore received even more of her adoration. “He was several years my senior.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Lucian muttered and swallowed a generous portion of wine.