She hadn’t quite heard his remark. “What was that you said, Captain?”
“Why, I wondered what qualities endeared him to you.”
The truth spilled from Catherine’s lips. “He thought me intelligent.”
Lucian almost choked on his wine. He sprang forward in his chair and glared at her. “I never thought of intelligence as a requisite to sex.”
Catherine didn’t falter in her response; her knowledge had been too hard gained to brush it off in amusement. “You do yourself an injustice if you feel sex involves no intelligence.”
Lucian relaxed back in his chair. “Explain your theory.”
Catherine held her empty wineglass out to him. She spoke while he filled it. “It isn’t a theory. It’s a logical, intelligent conclusion.”
“Go on.”
She paused to sip her wine and gather her thoughts. She had never made love, so she had to go on the assumption of what she would expect from a man before, during and after such an intimate act. And she called to mind how Benjamin had made her feel so special simply by listening and sharing in conversation with her. Wouldn’t an act so intimate require the same details, to listen to each other and share, for one to give as much as the other, to equally satisfy and please simply because one cared or perhaps loved enough to do so?
“When two intelligent people make love they take into consideration each other’s feelings. They share in the act without dominating it. So together they can both find satisfaction and pleasure.”
“Benjamin taught you this?”
She nodded. “He treated me with respect.”
Lucian’s look was caustic. “He took your virginity, but treated you with respect?”
Catherine didn’t hesitate to correct him. “I gave him my virginity. He never would have taken it otherwise. He taught me what to expect from a relationship and to accept nothing less.”
“So it is respect you demand from your lovers.”
“Mutual respect.”
“Then I take it you don’t like to be fu —”
Catherine’s angry glare cut him off. I don’t like verbal vulgarity.”
“Or physical vulgarity?”
“No!” she said, color rising to stain her cheeks. “I don’t —don’t—”
“Rut,” he said with a laugh.
“Rutting is for animals,” she snapped.
He sent her a carnal grin. “Rutting can have its moments.”
“I’m sure you would know about that.”
“I suppose only the less intelligent rut, while the aristocrat makes love.”
“You twist my words, Captain. One doesn’t require wealth to possess intelligence. And if more women used their intelligence they would find themselves not having to rut.”
Lucian’s expression grew dark. “Some women have no choice. It’s called survival, not intelligence.”
Catherine sighed and nodded in agreement. “You’re right about that. Too many women have no choice.”
“And then there are women like you who do.” He once again raised his glass in a salute, only this time it was to Catherine.
At the moment Catherine felt like a whore. His remarks set in and she realized the significance of his statement. The women of the street didn’t choose to become whores, she had.
How ironic, she chose to portray a harlot to survive, just like the women of the streets. Despair washed over her thinking how those women must feel, thinking how she felt at this very moment.
She chose her words carefully feeling as though she defended more than just herself. “We all make choices for a reason, Captain, the most basic being survival.”
“Excuse my laughter,” he said with what sounded more like a sardonic growl than a laugh. “Are you telling me that you chose to have a multitude of lovers because it was necessary to your survival?”
The truth of his statement stung her nerves and she felt a tremor rush up her spine. “With knowledge comes a degree of protection. I chose to seek that protection.”
Lucian shook his head wondering if it was the wine that befuddled his brain or if Catherine actually was more intelligent than him. “Protection from whom?”
“Men,” came her sharp retort.
“Ahh,” he said with an understanding shake of his head. “Now I see. You’re one of those women who prefer to control.”
Catherine considered his remark. “Do you like to be controlled, Lucian?”
His expression darkened, his finely shaped brows arching and his eyes narrowing as they concentrated on her face. “No one will ever control me again, Catherine.”
“Then we understand each other.”