There was no doubt in his mind that she had the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. The women he’d slept with had high, hard breasts, like small apples. Josie’s were soft and abundant, spilling into his hands like a gift. Her nipples were as exquisite as the rest of her, pink and delicate.

He couldn’t help thinking about the first woman he fell in love with, Lady Godwin. She was slim and straight, and held herself very erect. He knew what her breasts were like, because she affected the gauzy floating materials of the day. If he ever found Josie wanting to wear those gauzy kinds of dresses, he’d lock her up before he’d let another man see her breasts.

Josie’s breasts made his heart ache just to look at them. They made his loins burn with a desire to sink into her softness, her womanliness that was so very different from the hard planes of his own body.

Josie’s mouth was open slightly, all lush crimson lips and sweet mouth. He couldn’t wait so he pulled her toward him. “Josie,” he said.

She was pulling him down onto her, panting a little.

“I don’t wake up with women…ever.”

“Mumph,” she said, and then, “Oh, oh—oh.”

Mayne felt as if he had received a benediction. Her legs curled naturally around his back and she was coming to meet him, her eyes open now.

“That’s so wonderful,” she said. But then: “No—ouch—stop now!”

He choked on a laugh and stopped, as commanded.

“Perhaps you might come a bit closer now,” Josie commanded.

“Do you like it?” he asked, wondering why he felt like laughing. He never laughed during bedroom intimacies. After, perhaps. Or before. Never during.

“When it doesn’t hurt. But I preferred what you were doing last night.”

Mayne paused for a moment. “What?”

“What you were doing last night,” she said, smiling up at him. “That was lovely. This is—” she wriggled under him “—not quite as perfect. Very nice, but—”

The laughter was growing and growing. No woman ever corrected him in bed. In fact, generally speaking, they had no complaints.

But he readjusted, pulled back, and then lunged forward. As his lady commanded. And she let out a little shriek that wasn’t the least bit ladylike.

So he decided that he had the desired angle, as she put it. And then he decided to try another angle. She approved. A third: she didn’t like it. In fact, she got quite cross and reached behind him and pulled him toward her.

Which made him start shaking all over and then he stopped thinking about angles, because her hands were on his ass, shaping him, pulling him into her, closer and closer. He could hear her panting, little unladylike pants, and urging him on.

The sunshine was pouring over both of them, and whereas all the slim women of his acquaintance had hidden their bodies from view, Josie was there, every creamy inch of her. So he forced himself to stop, pulled away even though his little cat of a wife grew almost abusive, and feasted on her, all the curves and deliciousness of her. Let himself learn every dimple. Ended up kissing that poor part of her that hurt so much last night.

It didn’t seem to hurt anymore, though, and really, his young wife had quite a temper when aroused. In fact, she was threatening all sorts of things by the time he came back up and silenced her with a kiss that left her boneless in his arms.

Whereupon he slipped back into her, found the angle she loved as naturally as if it were breathing, and then put her exactly where he wanted her, clinging to him, her hair tousled and her eyes soft.

Looking at him as if he were the only man on earth, the only man for her, the only one.

Which he was.

“What do you mean, you never wake up with women?” Josie asked sometime later. He knew the question was coming. She was cuddled against his side, all boneless soft silken skin, and he was grinning up at the ceiling and reminding himself that there was a reason to live. He’d just discovered it.

“I always leave during the night,” he said, settling her more comfortably into his shoulder. “That is, I left.”“You do? What do the ladies say when you leave?”

“Not very much.”

“Don’t they wish you to stay? I quite enjoyed waking up in this fashion.” He glanced down at her to see if she were trying to shock him, but apparently she wasn’t, because she had one cheek against his chest and she looked utterly content.

“So did I,” he said.

“Well, didn’t they?”

“I never gave anyone the chance.”

“Why not?”

He moved a little, uncomfortable, until he realized that he’d lost contact with her hip and he wanted her right next to him, so he pulled her tight again. “I suppose it felt too intimate.”

She was smiling. “You are a virgin,” she announced.

“Not that I noticed.”

“A morning virgin.”

“As long as I’m not immaculate,” he said wickedly, and turned on his side so he could see her face.

“’Tis a sad thing to lose one’s virginity,” she said, her eyes dancing with laughter.

“Is it?”

“I shall never call a unicorn to my side now, you realize.”

“Are you acquainted with a good many horned quadrupeds?”

“There was a bull in my father’s pasture one year who was monstrously ferocious,” Josie said. “His name was Bumble, but you could hardly say we were acquainted, for all he almost gored me from behind.”

“More the fool you to go into his pasture,” Mayne said.

“How did you know I did that?”

“Because I know you, Josephine. You will always go into the bull’s pasture, and I suspect I shall spend the rest of my misspent life keeping you safe.”

“No you won’t.”

“I won’t?”

“You’ll be too busy,” Josie said. “With your stables. You know, I had an idea about that.”

He hated talking to other people about his stables, but he was so comfortable that though he waited for the little chill of disfavor to settle over him, it didn’t.

“What do you think would happen if you bred Manderliss with Sharon?”

“Nothing much,” he said. “Sharon has that bent hock, you know.”

She was silent for a moment. “But she also has those gorgeous long withers.”

“And if you put them together with Manderliss’s speed and stamina, it would be splendid,” Mayne agreed, tucking her even closer. “The pair I was thinking about is Sharon and Seaswept.”

“Really?” Josie sounded doubtful. “Didn’t you tell me that Seaswept has a slight sway back?”

He loved the fact that she had never forgotten even the tiniest details he’d told her about his stables. He told her that a year ago.

“You know who else would be a good match?” Josie said. “Rafe’s Hades.”

“His withers are too short.”

“But Sharon’s withers are long, so perhaps it will all work out. I think it’s tiresome the way people only mate horses within their own stables, unless they pay extraordinary amounts to stud a champion who won a race or two. The best champions come from lively mixtures,” Josie said with conviction.