Why hadn’t this occurred to her? If she wanted to discover for herself one of life’s most basic secrets, Stephen would be perfect.

A certain exhilaration spiked through her, making her catch her breath.

“Do you remember when I learned to swim?” she asked, her voice sounding off-key, even to her. “I wanted to so much. You and your brothers looked like you had such great fun jumping in the river whenever you wanted while I had to sit on the bank and just watch. You coaxed me just to try it.”

Stephen nodded. His eyes had gone from steel grey to stormy skies.

“I believe I said I wasn’t frightened.” Sabrina started to unfasten her jacket. “I lied, you know.”

“I know. I knew then you were at least a little frightened. Don’t you remember how I was right there, ready to help if you needed it?”

Sabrina was surprised she could even still breathe. Her heart pounded and she seemed to have forgotten how to unfasten buttons. “You were a good teacher.”

“I’m not ten now either, I’m twenty-five.” The words were said softly. “I’d like to think my instructional skills have improved.”

Good heavens, she was really going to do this. Sabrina dropped her jacket on the floor, then she sat down, removed her half-boots and stockings before standing to unfasten her skirt with shaking hands. It slid off her hips, and she went to work on her blouse. In moments all she wore was a flimsy chemise.

Stephen watched her disrobe, his lashes slightly lowered. When she finished — when she stood there doing her best to not visibly tremble — he extended a hand. “Join me.”

It was symbolic. Join me. The inference was, of course, he wished to join with her in the oldest way a woman and man could be joined.

Sabrina walked the few paces to the bed and placed her hand in his. Long strong fingers closed over hers and the matter was settled.

This moment, the one he’d fantasized over countless times, was like a dream. Maybe, Stephen thought, his breathing was too shallow to supply the right amount of air to his brain so he was hallucinating. Maybe his heart jerking in erratic bursts in his chest made him lightheaded. Maybe all the blood in his body was concentrated in his growing erection and he hadn’t any left circulating in his veins.

All he knew was Sabrina was more alluring than even in his very vivid, colourful imagination — a vision of soft curves, pale skin and loosened gold curls that tumbled over her slim shoulders and down her back. The girl he’d known was a shadow compared to the glory of the woman. Soft rose lips were parted just slightly, and full breasts lifted the lacy material of her shift in quick repetitive motion. Her eyes, the colour of an azure summer sky, were framed in long, lush lashes.

Once, long ago, he’d kissed her. He’d been about eleven, he remembered, both of them curious. After the brief touch of their lips, she’d declared herself unimpressed.

It was time to change her mind.

Stephen tugged her closer and caught her slender body in his arms, shifting so he could lower her to the mattress. Her slight gasp drifted in the air as he covered her, and the descent of his mouth to capture her lips stopped any other sound.

It was a hungry kiss, despite his determination to go slow and not rush things. He feasted like a starved man, tasting, savouring, the pent-up longing of the past merging with the present. The indulgence went on until his muscles felt knotted and tight, and his arousal strained against his breeches with uncomfortable urgency.

“I want you,” he murmured against her lips. “I need you.”

“I can tell.” Sabrina’s laugh was a muffled sound, sweet like a sigh. If she was afraid, it didn’t show.

Her arms, he realized with triumph, were twined around his neck and her hips cradled him perfectly. “You’re a virgin?”

The hint of question in his voice wasn’t an insult to her honour, but he just wasn’t sure if she was. She’d travelled widely, she had shown no inclination to look for a husband and, the truth was, if she didn’t want one, she didn’t need to get married. Her father had left her a fortune, and with it came the freedom of choice. As a young, beautiful heiress, she would be a premium on the marriage mart, but so far her interest hadn’t been evident. Stephen knew full well she had an independent spirit.

He didn’t want to conquer it. That quality was one of the things he loved the most about her. The light in her eyes when she contemplated a new idea, the mischievous edge to her personality, the innate sentimental loyalty that made her unique and set her apart from the young women he knew.

“Yes.”

The shy, breathless admission made him relax a fraction. The jealousy he felt for the lover she’d never had evaporated. He wasn’t even aware he harboured the feeling so intensely until that moment.

He nuzzled the sensitive spot under her ear. “I hoped.”

“You doubted?” There was prim censure in her tone.

He laughed, blowing his breath across her fragrant skin. “Can I say I have always recognized your disdain for a guiding hand?”

“True.” Sabrina touched his cheek, turned his face and looked into his eyes. “What are we doing?”

“I want to make love to you,” he said in a constricted voice.

“And here Aunt Beatrice thinks you are such a good influence on me.”

“When we were younger, we did her the favour of keeping her in the dark over some of our daring childhood pursuits that would have given her the vapours.” He kissed her neck. “We could be just as kind over this matter.”

“Good suggestion.” Exploring fingers ran over the muscles of his back, sending tingles like licks of flame up his spine. Her voice husky, Sabrina said, “You are ever the voice of reason. She never has to know.”

“And you ever embrace an adventure.” He eased the ribbon on the bodice of her chemise free. “I will do my best to make this an exciting one for you. Can I interest you in a trip to paradise?”

“Is it really?” Her eyes widened.

Now then, he’d just issued himself a challenge, hadn’t he? Stephen admired the shadow between her breasts as he parted the delicate lace of her chemise and tugged the garment downwards. Her breasts were perfect: firm, high and full enough to fill his palm. He cupped her and, with his thumb, caressed a rosy nipple. Sabrina gave a very satisfying gasp.

“You may let me know if you agree afterwards.” The whisper was said against her skin as he slid his mouth downwards, tracing the graceful curve of her throat, across her collarbone, and lower, until he kissed silky mounded flesh and kneaded the opposite breast in a gentle rhythm. The small arch of her spine as he suckled the delicious taut crest told him volumes.

“Oh, Stephen.” Sabrina’s hands caught his arms, holding tight. “Should you do that?”

“We can do whatever we want,” he murmured, lightly licking her nipple, pleased to see how tight and budded it became under his ministrations. “In a world full of rules and censure, what we do in private is only between us.”

“I … I …”

Whatever she was going to say was lost as he pulled her chemise lower, over the subtle flare of her hips and length of her legs, exposing all of her to his hungry gaze as he tossed it on the floor. Outside the moon was high enough to send slivers of light through the small casement window and illuminated each curve, each seductive hollow, the shadowed apex between her slim thighs graced by dark gold curls. With a reverent touch, he skimmed his fingertips down her belly, feeling the reaction in the muscles, seeking that tantalizing juncture. “You what?” Stephen asked as he found warmth and sleek dampness.

Supine, gloriously nude, Sabrina was the very essence of his dreams, so desirable he couldn’t ever imagine how fate had schemed for this night to finally happen. He was actually grateful to the nefarious Bloomfield.

Now, to make this an event she would never forget.

“You were saying?” he teased, his brows lifted, watching her face as he put just the slightest pressure on just the right spot, braced on one elbow, his hand stroking between her legs.

Sabrina made an interesting sound in her throat, and her thighs, which had been pressed together in maidenly modesty at his intimate touch, fell apart a little. “That feels … oh.”

“Perfect,” he supplied softly. “You feel perfect.”

He watched her face as he began to bring her to climax, the heightening colour as it spread across her cheekbones, the droop of her lashes as she began to get lost in the building sensation, the way her lips parted to let out small delicious moans. When it happened, she cried out and trembled, her eyes flying open in surprise so he could see both her passion and stunned wonder.

When he stood up and started to unfasten his breeches, he couldn’t help but give a masculine grin at the dazed look on her lovely face. It wasn’t often he saw Sabrina at a loss for words, but she did appear tongue-tied, especially as he freed his erection. She stared at the hard length against his stomach. In the aftermath of her first sexual culmination, she was all lush feminine enticement as she lay there, nude and flushed, and then — though he knew it wasn’t deliberate — she wet her lips.

It almost undid him, then and there.

Stephen took in a shuddering breath, found control, and said hoarsely, “Did I mention paradise was even better together? Let me show you.”

She wasn’t sure what the man had just done to her, but Stephen had told her the absolute truth. Just as he had promised years ago that swimming was not hard once you relaxed and trusted the buoyancy of the water, and that if she practised the pianoforte with a joy for the music, not as a chore, she would become more proficient, he was right yet again. The exquisite pleasure she had just experienced was a revelation, and though she supposed she should be frightened, or at least nervous, she just wasn’t because whatever happened next, he would take care of her.