Heartstrings (22 page)

She carried them to the bed and spread them out upon the mattress. “This one,” she said, pointing to the biggest book, “contains the complete works of Shakespeare. This second one is a history of the Great Sphinx, which is an awesome sculpture in Egypt.”

Seeing that his response was less than enthusiastic, she reached for the third book. “And this one is a detailed and extremely interesting textbook about the human spleen!”

“Spleen?”

She caressed the book’s spine. “The spleen is a highly vascular, ductless organ near the stomach or intestines of most vertebrates. It is concerned with final destruction of blood cells, storage of blood, and—”

“Yeah, I know all about spleens.”
Spleens?
God, talk about something that really
would
bore him to death!

She frowned slightly. “You are familiar with spleens?”

“Oh, sure. A spleen is—well, you know. It’s that intestinal cell that destroys the stomach. I’ve always felt really sorry for people who have spleens.”

“But—”

“
I
also know everything there is to know about Shakespeare. He’s the one who wrote the story about that woman named Julie. She drank poison and died when her lover, Hamlet, couldn’t get that damned spot of blood off his hands. And you want to know how the Great Stinks got its name? It stinks, that’s why, and no wonder. There’s probably a thousand Egyptian kings buried inside it. If those Egyptians would only bury their dead in the ground the way we do, they wouldn’t have had to name that sculpture the Great Stinks. Now, what else do you have to read?”

Theodosia burst into laughter. She simply couldn’t help it. “You, sir, are the most amazing storyteller I have ever chanced to meet.”

Her laughter gladdened Roman, for he didn’t hear it often. He liked seeing her this way, happy and carefree.

Of course, he also liked seeing her in the throes of desire, unable to catch her breath or resist his caresses.

With those ends in mind, he looked at the books she’d shown him and screwed up his facial features. “Don’t you have anything else I could read?”

She laid down the medical volume about the human spleen. “I have the sexual enchiridion.”

“Enchiridion? What’s—”

“The handbook,” she translated.
“The Sweet Art of Passion.
But when once I asked you how long you would need to understand its contents, you led me to believe that you were already well versed in the art of passion.”

His mind whirled. “I am. Versed, that is, and very well. Passion—I know everything about it. You name it, I’ve done it. It’s just that—well, skilled at the art as I am, I’m curious about whether those Tibetan sex scholars knew as much as I do. They might have made a lot of it up, just to impress the Tibetan girls.”

“Mr. Montana, are you serious about your desire to review the treatise?”

Desire
was the key word, Roman mused. “I’m very serious, Miss Worth.”

Nodding, she collected the other books he didn’t want to read, put them away, and unpacked the sexual treatise.

Roman fairly grabbed it out of her hand and stretched out on the bed to read.

“Perhaps we could discuss sections of the treatise later,” Theodosia proposed as she gathered writing materials with which to pen a letter to Upton and Lillian while Roman read. “I would be exceedingly interested to know how you compare the Tibetan practices with those you may have employed yourself in the past. I’m certain there will be a wealth of cultural differences.”

Her suggestion aroused him instantly. Damn! He hadn’t read the first word of the sex-treat book yet, and he was already raring to go!

So she wouldn’t see his reaction, he opened the book and laid it over his hips. He then tried to think of an academic-sounding reply to her proposal. “Uh—yes. Yes, of course, Miss Worth. I would be more than scientifically glad to teach you the differences between Tibetan moves and American moves.”

“
Teach,
Mr. Montana?”

“Show. I mean…”

“
Discuss,
I think, is the word you seek.”

Discuss, hell, he thought, but said aloud, “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

Satisfied, Theodosia returned to her letter.

Still swollen with desire, Roman turned to his side, giving her his back while he opened the book.

The first page was tri-folded. As he began to unfold the paper, he realized it was folded because it was much longer than the other pages of the book. When he had it completely unfolded, he saw it showed a diagram of a fully erect male member, which by his best estimation was about twelve inches long and the width of his fist. Beneath the diagram a caption said, “Woe is the man who is not endowed thus, for he will never satisfy a woman’s passion.”

Roman stared at the diagram, wondering if it was a self-portrait of the Tibetan sex scholar’s own lower anatomy. If so, the man was a damned liar. Either that, or he’d had a horny elephant pose for the drawing.

Relieved by his own hypothesis, Roman refolded the diagram, turned the page, and saw another sketch, this one of a couple in the act of making love in a flower garden.

Roman frowned. The man and woman’s limbs were so twisted together, he couldn’t tell which legs and arms belonged to whom, or which two ends were which. Thinking perhaps he was studying the drawing wrong, he turned the book upside down, but that way made it look as though the couple were going at it in the sky.

Damn, he thought. A man had to be a contortionist to make love to Tibetan women.

Engrossed as he was by the bizarre sketch, he failed to hear Theodosia approach the bed. The slight touch of her hand on his shoulder startled him so badly, he let out a shriek and dropped the book. “For God’s sake. Miss Worth, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“But I was only wondering what your initial thoughts were concerning the Tibetan scholar.”

He sat up and dragged his fingers through his hair. “He was a lying acrobat, that’s what I think! You don’t really believe the stuff in this stupid book, do you?”

Thoroughly intrigued by his obvious rejection of the treatise, she sat down on the bed and picked up the book. Thumbing through it, she scanned a few pages. “Actually…well, yes. I had no reason to believe otherwise until now. Why do you say the treatise is stupid, Mr. Montana?”

“For one thing—” He broke off and took the book away from her. Opening it to the page that showed the couple making love, he jabbed his finger at it. “If this is one of those highly unusual forms you talked about one time—this isn’t highly unusual. It’s
impossible!”

“It is?”

“These two have practically turned themselves inside out! People don’t make love this way, Miss Worth. If they tried, they’d never get untangled!”

She glanced at the drawing again. “That is but one of the positions described. There are others, and the majority of them seem quite comfortable, to my way of thinking.”

He decided she’d taken acrobatic lessons sometime in her youth.

“How far did you read, Mr. Montana?”

“I haven’t read anything except that I will never be able to satisfy a woman’s passion.” He unfolded the folded page and held it up for her to see. “What is Tibet? A land of giants?”

“The diagram isn’t correct?” She leaned forward for a better look.

“I thought you’d studied human anatomy.”

She drew away, but her gaze remained on the diagram. “I have studied anatomy, but I’ve never seen a penis—well, I
have
seen one. A few years ago I took an art class, and one of my assignments was to sketch a nude male. The model posed without clothes, of course, but his penis was in a state of repose.” Frowning in consternation, she looked up at him. “Are you saying this diagram isn’t a true reproduction of—”

“Hell no!”

His shout and the glitter of ire in his eyes injured her feelings. “I apologize,” she whispered, “for my ignorance.”

“I didn’t mean to yell,” he said quickly. “It’s just that I can’t believe you thought this diagram was a true-to-life drawing. Why didn’t your brother-in-law set you straight?”

“Oh, Upton doesn’t know I have the book. One of the assistant librarians at Harvard loaned it to me.”

“Then why didn’t
he
set you straight?”

“Miss Biddington is a woman. A very dear woman who is fast approaching the age of seventy.”

An old spinster, Roman mused. That explained why the woman hadn’t set Theodosia straight concerning the diagram. He could only imagine the fantasies dear Miss Biddington must have entertained while staring at the drawing.

“Since you haven’t begun to read, I shall leave you to do so now, Mr. Montana.” Theodosia began to rise.

Roman caught her by her waist. “We could read together. That way we can discuss what we read as we go along.” And what a perfect place for the so-called
discussion,
he thought—the bed. “It’ll save time.”

“Well…”

He gave her a serious look. “You said yourself that the reason you’ve been reading this book is so you can understand what will happen when you finally find the perfect man to father the child. Seems to me that you would want me to explain these passionate things to you. Or would you rather the man you choose tells you about them? If you’d rather a complete stranger explain—”

“I have no intention of being passionate with the man. I’ve told you before that my relations with him will be strictly—”

“Then you should know about these passionate things in case the guy tries to start them,” Roman fenced, drumming his fingers upon the book. “That way, you can stop him before he gets very far. The more knowledge you have, the more you’ll be able to control your doings with him.”

Toying with a lock of her hair, she contemplated his reasoning. “All right, Mr. Montana. I see your point.”

He patted the space beside him, moving over for her when she settled next to him and leaned into the mound of pillows propped against the headboard. “‘Chapter One,’” he said, turning to the beginning of the chapter and scanning the page. “Oh, this part explains the preparations for lovemaking. Touching, kissing, and stuff like that. You won’t be doing any of those things with the candidate you choose, but maybe we should talk about them anyway. Just so you’ll have a full understanding.”

Theodosia read the page. She’d read it before, but reading it with Roman made the words much more meaningful…

And erotic.

He heard her breath quicken and smiled inwardly. If this was the way she responded to the touching and kissing paragraph of the first chapter, he certainly looked forward to what she would do when he got to the really good parts. “A man
could
begin to make love to a woman by kissing her, but that’s not the way I do it.”

“Oh?” She turned her face toward him and looked into his eyes. “How do you do it? I—of course, I need to know so I will be able to recognize such foreplay should the chosen candidate attempt it.”

His inward smile grew. She was the worst liar he’d ever encountered. “Well, I like to touch a woman’s face. Glide my finger along her chin and up to her temples, and smooth my thumb across her eyelids. Sometimes I put my hand around her neck and move it down to her throat and then over her shoulder. I also like to push my fingers into her hair. And while one hand is doing those things, I have my other hand curled around her waist. Gradually, I bring her closer to me, so close she can feel the effect she’s having on me. You know what I mean, don’t you, Miss Worth?”

She remembered the afternoon in Dr. Wallaby’s house, when he’d pulled her tightly next to his body. She had indeed felt the proof of his desire. “Yes,” she whispered. Hearing her own throaty whisper, she looked away from his sky blue eyes and glanced down at the book.

At her action, Roman reminded himself to go slowly. Casually, he toyed with the dainty gold chains that hung from the bottom of her heart-shaped ruby brooch, then turned a page in the book and began to read aloud. “‘Before the removal of the clothes, much time must be taken by the man to ready the woman for the sight of his nakedness. A virgin is likely to be frightened by her first encounter with a man’s arousal and will resist his advances if her fear is not quickly put to rest. To soothe a maiden’s worry and incite her sweet passions, a man must take the greatest care to kiss her in an unhurried manner.’”

He stared into space, as if in deep contemplation. “True,” he announced, “but not before touching her face, throat, and shoulder, like I just explained. And once a man’s kissing a woman, he should do everything he can to get her to open her mouth. Kissing pursed lips is like pressing your mouth against a juicy peach but not being able to bite into it. You know that if you could only sink into it, you’d get a taste of heaven. You know what I mean by that, too, don’t you?”

So mesmerized was she by what he was saying to her, she didn’t realize she’d leaned into him. Nor was she aware that he had lifted his arm over her shoulder so she could rest against the side of his bare chest.