“That’s what I thought,” he murmured. “Perfection is absolute, is it not? One can’t be slightly unique, and one can’t be more than perfect. But somehow…you are.”

“Slightly unique?”

His smile spread slowly across his face. “Better than perfect.”

She reached up, touched his cheek, then brushed a lock of his hair back and tucked it behind his ear. The moonlight glinted off the strands, making them seem more golden than usual.

She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do. All she knew was that she loved this man.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened. It hadn’t been like her decision to marry him, which had been sudden and clear in an instant. This…this love…it had crept up on her, rolling along, gaining in momentum until one day it was there.

It was there, and it was true, and she knew it would be with her always.

And now, lying on her bed, in the secret stillness of the night, she wanted to give herself to him. She wanted to love him in every way a woman could love a man, and she wanted him to take everything she could give. It didn’t matter if they weren’t married; they would be soon enough.

Tonight, she couldn’t wait.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

He smiled, and it was in his eyes even more than his lips. “I thought you’d never ask.” He leaned down, but his lips skimmed hers for barely a second. Instead they veered downward, breathing heat across her until they found her breast. And then he-

“Ohhhh!” she moaned. He couldn’t do that. Could he?

He could. And he did.

Pure pleasure shot through her, tickling to every corner of her body. She clutched his head, her hands sinking into his thick, straight hair, and she didn’t know if she was pulling or pushing. She didn’t think she could stand any more, and yet she didn’t want him to stop.

“Gareth,” she gasped. “I…You…”

His hands seemed to be everywhere, touching her, caressing her, pushing her dress down, down…until it was pooled around her hips, just an inch from revealing the very core of her womanhood.

Panic began to rise in Hyacinth’s chest. She wanted this. She knew she wanted this, and yet she was suddenly terrified.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said.

“That’s all right.” He straightened, yanking his shirt off with enough force it was amazing buttons didn’t fly. “I do.”

“I know, but-”

He touched her lips with his finger. “Shhh. Let me show you.” He smiled down at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Do I dare?” he wondered aloud. “Should I…Well…maybe…”

He lifted his finger from her mouth.

She spoke instantly. “But I’m afraid I will-”

He put his finger back. “I knew that would happen.”

She glared at him. Or rather, she tried to. Gareth had an uncanny ability to make her laugh at herself. And she could feel her lips twitching, even as he pressed them shut.

“Will you be quiet?” he asked, smiling down at her.

She nodded.

He pretended to think about it. “I don’t believe you.”

She planted her hands on her hips, which had to be a ludicrous position, naked as she was from the waist up.

“All right,” he acceded, “but the only words I’ll allow from your mouth are, ‘Oh, Gareth,’ and ‘Yes, Gareth.’”

He lifted his finger.

“What about ‘More, Gareth?’ ”

He almost kept a straight face. “That will be acceptable.”

She felt laughter bubbling up within her. She didn’t actually make a noise, but she felt it all the same-that silly, giddy feeling that tingled and danced in one’s belly. And she marveled at it. She was so nervous-or rather, she had been.

He’d taken it away.

And she somehow knew that it would be all right. Maybe he’d done this before. Maybe he’d done this a hundred times before, with women a hundred times more beautiful than she.

It didn’t matter. He was her first, and she was his last.

He lay down beside her, pulling her onto her side and against him for a kiss. His hands sank into her hair, pulling it free from its coils until it fell in silky waves down her back. She felt free, untamed.

Daring.

She took one hand and pressed it against his chest, exploring his skin, testing the contours of the muscles beneath. She’d never touched him, she realized. Not like this. She trailed her fingers down his side to his hip, tracing a line at the edge of his breeches.

And she could feel his reaction. His muscles leapt wherever she touched, and when she moved to his belly, to that spot between his navel and the last of his clothing, he sucked in his breath.

She smiled, feeling powerful, and so, so womanly.

She curved her fingers so that her nails would scrape his skin, lightly, softly, just enough to tickle and tease. His belly was flat, with a light dusting of hair that formed a line and disappeared below his breeches.

“Do you like this?” she whispered, taking her index finger and making a circle around his navel.

“Mmm-hmm.” His voice was smooth, but she could hear his breathing growing ragged.

“What about this?” Her finger found the line of hair and slid slowly down.

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes said yes.

“What about-”

“Undo the buttons,” he grunted.

Her hand stilled. “Me?” Somehow it hadn’t occurred to her that she might aid in their disrobing. It seemed the job of the seducer.

His hand took hers and led it to the buttons.

With trembling fingers, Hyacinth slid each disc free, but she did not pull back the fabric. That was something she was not quite ready to do.

Gareth seemed to understand her reluctance, and he hopped from the bed, for just long enough to pull off the rest of his clothing. Hyacinth averted her eyes…at first.

“Dear G-”

“Don’t worry,” he said, resuming his spot next to her. His hands found the edge of her dress and tugged it the rest of the way down. “Never”-he kissed her belly-“ever”-he kissed her hip-“worry.”

Hyacinth wanted to say that she wouldn’t, that she trusted him, but just then his fingers slid between her legs, and it was all she could do simply to breathe.

“Shhhh,” he crooned, coaxing her apart. “Relax.”

“I am,” she gasped.

“No,” he said, smiling down at her, “you’re not.”

“I am,” she insisted.

He leaned down, dropping an indulgent kiss on her nose. “Trust me,” he murmured. “Just for this moment, trust me.”

And she tried to relax. She really did. But it was near impossible when he was teasing her body into such an inferno. One moment his fingers were on the inside of her thigh, and the next they’d parted her, and he was touching her where she’d never been touched before.

“Oh, m-Oh!” Her hips arched, and she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to say.

She didn’t know what to feel.

“You’re perfect,” he said, pressing his lips to her ear. “Perfect.”

“Gareth,” she gasped. “What are you-”

“Making love to you,” he said. “I’m making love to you.”

Her heart leapt in her chest. It wasn’t quite I love you, but it was awfully close.

And in that moment, in that last moment of her brain actually functioning, he slid one finger inside her.

“Gareth!” She grabbed his shoulders. Hard.

“Shhhh.” He did something utterly wicked. “The servants.”

“I don’t care,” she gasped.

He gazed down at her in a most amused manner, then…whatever he’d done…did it again. “I think you do.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t. I-”

He did something else, something on the outside, and her entire body felt it. “You’re so ready,” he said. “I can’t believe it.”

He moved, positioning himself above her. His fingers were still delivering their torture, but his face was over hers, and she was lost in the clear blue depths of his eyes.

“Gareth,” she whispered, and she had no idea what she meant by it. It wasn’t a question, or a plea, or really, anything but his name. But it had to be said, because it was him.

It was him, here with her.

And it was sacred.

His thighs settled between hers, and she felt him at her opening, large and demanding. His fingers were still between them, holding her open, readying her for his manhood.

“Please,” she moaned, and this time it was a plea. She wanted this. She needed him.

“Please,” she said again.

Slowly, he entered her, and she sucked in her breath, so startled was she by the size and feel of him.

“Relax,” he said, only he didn’t sound relaxed. She looked up at him. His face was strained, and his breathing was quick and shallow.

He held very still, giving her time to adjust to him, then pushed forward, just a little, but it was enough to make her gasp.

“Relax,” he said again.

“I’m trying,” she ground out.

Gareth almost smiled. There was something so quintessentially Hyacinth about the statement, and also something almost reassuring. Even now, in what had to be one of the most startling and strange experiences of her life, she was…the same.

She was herself.

Not many people were, he was coming to realize.

He pushed forward again, and he could feel her easing, stretching to accommodate him. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to eliminate the pain completely, but by God, he would make this as perfect for her as he could. And if that meant nearly killing himself to go slowly, he would.

She was as stiff as a board beneath him, her teeth gritted as she anticipated his invasion. Gareth nearly groaned; he’d had her so close, so ready, and now she was trying so hard not to be nervous that she was about as relaxed as a wrought-iron fence.

He touched her leg. It was as rigid as a stick.

“Hyacinth,” he murmured in her ear, trying not to sound amused, “I think you were enjoying yourself a bit more just a minute earlier.”