Page 187 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

He held out a hand. “Come here and let me undress you.”

She swallowed but stood.

Andrew turned her back to him and slowly worked on the row of small buttons, dropping kisses on her exposed nape. “Have I told you—”

“Yes.”

He laughed softly. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“What were you going to say?”

“How beautifu—”

“Yes, you’ve told me.”

“Don’t you like hearing that?” he asked, slipping his hands beneath the shoulders of her loosened gown and pushing it to the floor before turning her.

“I am not beautiful,” she said as Andrew stooped to pick up her dress while she stepped out of it.

He laid the garment carefully on the bench at the foot of the bed before turning to her and setting his hands on her shoulders. “You are beautiful to me.” He forced her to meet his gaze. “I will keep saying it until you believe me.” Her lashes lowered and he tilted her face up. “I’m serious, Stacia.” He kissed her. “You are the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance.” He smiled wryly. “And that includes the many I’ve probably forgotten.”

Rather than laugh or smile, she merely looked pained.

“What is it, darling? You need to talk to me. Always. I am terrible when it comes to reading your mind—it is all I can do to read my own.”

“It is nothing.”

“It is something. Come. Tell me.”

She closed her eyes. “You said once before that M-Mariah was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen. I suspect that was probably more truthful. I know full well that I am passable, at best.”

There could only have been one time when he might have said such a thing, not that he could recall his exact words. “Open your eyes, darling. I need to tell you something that shames me.” When she complied, he continued, “I cannot recall Mariah’s face. I know she had blue eyes and blonde hair, but that is all I remember. I don’t know if I have forgotten because of”—he made a vague gesture toward his head—“or because the memory has simply faded because of time. For more than a decade I romanticized a relationship which lasted less than two months. An affair.” He held her gaze. “If I said she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, it was because that is one of the few things I recall feeling.” He cupped her face. “I don’t see her face, Stacia. When I close my eyes, I see yours.”

***

Stacia felt like a needy, insecure fool for bringing up such a matter—especially when she heard the truth.

“You told me to forget the past—to forgive myself—and to move on. You have to allow me to do that, darling. I am ten years your senior and there have been women in my life. But now—and for the rest of my days—there is only one woman.” He kissed her and then pulled back and frowned. “What is this?” he murmured, brushing away a tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed.

“They are happy tears. I don’t understand why I am feeling so emotional.”

“I think that is understandable; it has been a hectic few weeks. Let me relax you.” He kissed her lightly and resumed undressing her with a practiced ease that still gave her qualms, as much as she tried not to think of his past.

“Sit,” he said, once he’d slipped off her stays.

He took her foot and set her slipper on his knee.

Stacia’s eyes slid over to his membrum virile. It was not as erect as it had been a few minutes ago, but neither was it completely…quiescent.

“Other foot, sweetheart.”

Stacia blinked; he’d removed her slipper, garter, and stocking while she had been staring.

“I like your eyes on me,” he said as he slipped off her other shoe.

Stacia swallowed at his hot, hungry look and resumed her unmannerly gawking.

A moment later all she wore was her shift. She tensed, waiting for him to pull away her last defense.