Page 62 of The Dare Before Christmas

Suddenly, Torie could not stand it a moment longer. She was not a passive creature by nature, and she was impatient now. She reached for the buttons on his waistcoat, tugging them undone one by one with fingers that were clumsy with nerves. Barnaby did not seem to mind, though, and shrugged off his coat, tossing it over the nearest chair and then sending his waistcoat after it once she was done.

“Well, there’s me trying to be patient and not spook you, and now you’re wrestling with me,” he said, laughing as she tugged his shirt from his trousers. “Steady on, love, you’ll do me a damage.”

“I don’t spook easily. I’m not a skittish horse,” she objected, striving to sound tart to hide the fact she was fizzing with nerves, just as he suspected.

“I had noticed,” he replied gravely.

Torie ignored the comment, too caught up in trying to undo the blasted cravat which seemed to have been tied using some arcane law of physics that defied her understanding, and all her efforts to remove it. “Oh, really! Who tied this? A magician?” she demanded.

“Louis would have you believe so. It was his blasted valet, Elton. Honestly, love, I don’t know which of them reveres the other more. Here, let me….”

He tugged and muttered at the starched cloth, and then yanked and cursed and got a bit red in the face, but finally, he was free of it and flung it aside in triumph. He pulled his shirt over his head too and sent that after the cravat.

“Think I need a lie down,” he said, chuckling.

Torie bit back a giggle and tried to send him a stern look, but was too distracted by the more interesting pastime of staring at his chest. She had been held close enough by him to have understood that he was far more powerful and substantial than he appeared. Somehow his mild manner and modest personality put one so at ease it was effortless to be comfortable around him, and not pay proper attention to quite how well-made he was. Now, though, stripped of the layers that hid the real Barnaby, the strong chest and muscular arms of the man before her were rather a shock to behold. She studied him for a long moment before lunging for his trouser buttons, her patience all used up. Barnaby danced away.

“Hold a moment,” he scolded, though his eyes were alight with laughter. “I’m not standing about in the altogether whilst you’ve got all that lot on.”

He waved at her corsets and the mountainous layers of petticoats frothing about her ankles.

Frowning, she huffed, and reached behind her for the ties, undoing each one before she kicked the petticoat aside. Barnaby watched, never taking his eyes from her, his expression veering from delighted amusement to something darker and more intent with each layer she removed. Finally, she tugged at her corset strings. It was a front opening style that she could manage on her own and, having loosened the laces, she sent it flying. It landed with a thud beside the frilly lace of her petticoats.

“There!” she said, breathless and triumphant, standing in only her shift.

“There, indeed,” Barnaby said, sounding far more breathless than she was as he stared at her, the way his gaze lingered on her breasts making her blush. She fought the urge to cover herself, torn between modesty and the wicked pleasure of enjoying his admiration, revelling in the lust she saw darkening his eyes.

“Your turn!” she exclaimed, to cover her confusion, reaching for his trouser buttons once more. Her breath caught as her knuckles grazed his belly, the dark hair that arrowed beneath his waistband tickling her fingers. There was more on his chest too, and she was seized by the sudden impulse to kiss him there. So she did, finding the hair coarse and wiry, but the skin beneath silky soft like her own. Surprised, she tried the skin of his shoulder, brushing her lips over it, then noticed the flat, male nipples and tried kissing those too, darting out her tongue to touch the tiny nub that puckered beneath her teasing caress.

Barnaby sucked in a breath, gooseflesh rippling over his skin. Intrigued, Torie looked up at him. He stared down at her, still and silent, wanting in his eyes. Torie undid the last button on his falls. Not taking his eyes from hers, Barnaby moved to sit on the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots, then stood again and pushed his trousers down, kicking them to one side, leaving him in only his smalls.

“Who’s going first?” he asked, his mouth kicking up into a smile.

“You!” she said at once.

He snorted. “Well, I expected that, wicked girl. Very well, here I go.”

With an expression so grave Torie could not help but snigger, he pushed down his small clothes, leaving him naked.

“Really, Torie. Very bad form to snigger at a fellow when he takes his unmentionables off for the first time. Likely to give me a complex,” he complained, though she heard the laughter in his voice. Barnaby followed her gaze and stared down at himself, and then back to Torie, who was far from laughter now, riveted to the sight of him, already aroused and standing proudly erect. “Will I do?” he asked, a teasing note to the question, for he must be able to read the naked desire in her eyes.

She nodded. “You’re very fine, Barnaby.”

He looked pleased by that and moved closer to her. “Well, then, it’s your turn,” he said softly. “May I?”

Waiting until she gave an answering nod, he reached for the hem of her shift and pulled it up, over her head. He let out a ragged sigh as he gazed down at her.

“Died and gone to heaven,” he murmured, sounding a little dazed, a state she understood well enough as he cupped her breasts in his hands, stroking and gently squeezing, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples until they were taut and aching. “Too lovely for words,” he whispered, ducking his head to trail his mouth over the generous mounds.

Tentatively, Torie stroked his hair, sinking her fingers into the warm silk and holding him in place as he explored. Her fingers tightened as he drew her nipple into his mouth and gently sucked, sending explosions of sensation ricocheting around her body like tiny fireworks. He lavished equal attention on both breasts before looking up at her. A smug smile tugged at his lips.

“Like that, did you?” he asked, though she suspected he did not need an answer.

She could barely stand, her blood fizzing in her veins as if it had been replaced with champagne. Torie nodded anyway, just to be clear. Before she had time to actually speak—not that she was certain she could speak—Barnaby picked her up. She gave a little shriek of surprise.

“Well, we’re off to a good start, then,” he remarked, carrying her to the bed, the covers of which were already turned down.

He laid her carefully on the mattress. Torie snatched for the covers, pulling them up, but Barnaby tugged them down again.