The sounds behind the screen had ceased and Jordan knew Alexandra was finished changing, just as he knew she was remaining behind the screen because she was afraid to show herself in her nightclothes.
Deciding that the most soothing thing he could do for her just now would be to treat the subject of clothing—or lack of it—in a calm, matter-of-fact way, Jordan got up and walked across the room, intending to pour himself another glass of wine. "Alexandra," he said in a firm, no-nonsense tone, "do you need any help undressing?"
"No!" came the horrified reply. "I—I've just finished."
"Then come out from behind that screen."
"I can't! Your grandmother's French seamstress is a madwoman—there are holes in everything she made for me."
"Holes?" Jordan repeated, nonplussed. Reaching for the bottle of wine, he glanced toward the screen. "What sort of 'holes'?"
She stepped from behind it, and Jordan stared at the indignant expression on her flushed face, then his gaze dropped to the daringly low oval bodice of her shimmering satin nightdress. "This nightdress," she announced, pointing an accusing finger at her exposed bodice, "has a hole cut out of the chest. The blue one has a square hole cut out of the back. The yellow one," she finished bitterly, "is the worst! It has a hole in the back, another in the front, and the side of the skirt is slashed up to my knees! That Frenchwoman," she finished darkly, "should not be allowed to hold a pair of scissors!"
Jordan gave a shout of laughter, snatched her into his arms, and buried his face in her fragrant hair, his shoulders rocking.
And in that moment, all the jaded cynicism of his past began to crumble.
"Oh, Alex," he gasped, "I can't believe you're real!"
Since she wasn't responsible for the design of these absurd clothes, Alex took no personal offense at his laughter but she warned him in a dire voice: "You won't be laughing when you see the rest of what you paid that woman good money for!"
With a superhuman effort, Jordan managed to subdue his mirth long enough to lift his head and gaze tenderly into her upturned, indignant face. "Why is that?"
"Because," she informed him darkly, "the gowns that don't have holes cut out of them are so sheer they're as transparent as windows!"
"Windo-?" For the second time, Jordan lost control. His shoulders shaking violently, he swung her up into his arms, captivated again by the sheer joy of her artlessness and unexpected wit.
He carried her to the bed, but when he took his arm from beneath her knees and her legs slid down his thighs, past his rigid erection, she tensed instantly. Uncertain, frightened suddenly—as if she sensed the meaning of his hardened body—her eyes searched his face. "What are you going to do to me?" she whispered shakily.
"I'm going to make love to you," he answered gently, deliberately vague.
Her entire body trembled. "How?"
Jordan smiled reassuringly, as touched by her fear as he was by the innocence in her huge liquid eyes. "I'll tell you as we go along," he promised, but when it was obvious that answer didn't satisfy her, he added, "To put it as simply as possible, the seeds of a baby are inside of me, and in a little while, I'll put them into you. But there's no way of knowing whether a baby will result from it this time. Alexandra," he added with gentle firmness, anticipating that some of the things he was going to do might seem "sinful" to her, "I give you my word that nothing we're going to do is 'wrong.' People do this whether they want a baby or not."
"They do?" she asked with heart-wrenching trust. "Why?"
Jordan bit back a smile, his fingers untying the satin bow at her breasts. "Because it feels good," he answered simply. He put his hands on her shoulders and, before Alexandra realized what he was about, her gown slid down her naked body, landing in a pool of shimmering satin at her feet. Jordan caught his breath at the unexpected beauty of her body. She was thin, but her breasts were surprisingly full, her waist tiny, and her legs long and shapely.
Her head bent, frozen with terror and embarrassment by her husband's gaze, Alexandra stood staring at her gown, relieved beyond words when Jordan reached down and lifted her onto the bed. Glad for the flimsy shelter offered by the sheet, she pulled it up to her chin and swiftly averted her gaze as Jordan began undressing beside the bed.
Sternly she tried to remind herself that human beings had been making babies since time began, and so there could be nothing bizarre or ugly about what Jordan was going to do to her. Furthermore, it was her duty to give him an heir, she knew, and she adamantly refused to begin their marriage by shirking her duty. Despite those sensible conclusions, when he slid in beside her and leaned over her, bracing his forearm on her opposite side, her heart began to race like a maddened thing. "W-what are you going to do?" she asked fearfully, unable to drag her gaze above the tanned muscular chest looming above her.
Jordan gently tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I'm going to kiss you and hold you close to me," he said in a voice as soft and caressing as velvet. "And I'm going to touch you. Later, something I do to you will hurt for a moment—only a moment," he promised. "I'll tell you when it's going to happen," he added, lest she begin dreading the pain long before it would come.
Her eyes widened with alarm at the mention of pain, but when she spoke it was with heartbreaking concern for him, rather than herself. "Will it hurt you, too?"
"No."
The girl who Jordan had feared would struggle and fight against him smiled tremulously and shyly laid her fingers against his cheek. "I'm glad," she said softly. "I wouldn't want you to be hurt."
A huge constricting knot of tenderness and desire tightened Jordan's throat and he bent his head, taking her lips in a fierce, stirring kiss, shaping and fitting the contours of her soft mouth to his. Forcing himself to go slower, Jordan deliberately lightened the pressure of his mouth, smoothing his lips tantalizingly back and forth over hers, his hand curving around her nape, stroking it sensually. His tongue traced the trembling line between her lips, coaxing them to part, and when they did, it slid between them, tangling with hers while his hand on her nape tightened possessively.
Driven by pure instinct and the pleasure coursing through her veins, Alexandra turned into his arms, and the moment she did, his strong arms went around her, molding her hips to the hardened contours of his. When she stiffened in alarm at the bold pressure of his hardened manhood and tried to draw back, his hand shifted comfortingly up and down her spine, holding her gently but firmly against him.