Page 8 of Princess Bride Swap

“Now that we have some privacy,” he finally began. “We should discuss the more...delicate matters of our relationship.”

“You mean sex.”

He made a strangled noise. The kind of noise she often brought out in people, but she’d found being forthright and frank often helped quell her anxiety. Just say it. Just deal with the consequences rather than worry about what they might be.

She might have to work on curbing that impulse now, but for this moment, she needed it to keep her steady.

“Yes, I suppose I do,” Lyon agreed.

But then he didn’t say anything. He stood by the window, shirt unbuttoned. She stood by the en suite door in her pajamas.

He cleared his throat. Which should have seemed like a gesture ofsomekind of nerves, but he stood there looking so...princelyand handsome and fully in control of himself, she didn’t think he’d ever been nervous a day in his life.

“While heirs are my primary concern,” he began, like this was a well-planned speech. Maybe it was. “And will need to be...secured sooner rather than later, we do not need to jump into such matters right away. We can get to know each other a bit first. Ease into things.”

Beau carefully exhaled. That was actually quite...kind, all in all. She had not thought him cruel—their arrangements had now been a few months in the making. His correspondence had always been polite, his propositions always fair. So it wasn’t that kindnessshouldbe a surprise.

Simply she was not used to it.

He moved then, taking a few steps toward her. Again, her breath backed up in her lungs. There was justsomethingabout him that drew out these new, overwhelming physical responses in her.

“Just because we have a very careful arrangement does not mean that it can’t be mutually enjoyable. It does not have to be a...chore.”

She blinked once. Trying to work through that.Enjoyable.She felt her cheeks heat, despite trying to be verysophisticatedabout the whole thing.

“I hear tell that I am not a hideous beast,” he said in a soft, humored voice.

It was about the first sense that under all his duty, all his plans, all they’d agreed, that Lyonmighthave a personality. A hint of humor. And ego. Which she didn’t mind. She’d much prefer a man who was sure of himself. She’d found men riddled with insecurity who had any kind of power tended to wield it in ugly ways.

“What about me?” she asked him. Because it was true,hewas gorgeous.Shemight enjoy...things with him. But her...

He gave her a sweeping kind of glance that had a strange fissure of nerves dancing along her skin. “I can see that you are not a hideous beast,tesoruccia,” he said, his voice...darker, it seemed.

Her body certainly found him convincing, if the heat in her cheeks was anything to go by. But her mind... “You think I’m pretty?”

“Yes.”

“Prettier than Zia?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is it a competition?”

Always.Not because she wanted any competition. Nor did Zia. It was just...how they were seen. Two halves of one whole, but constantly determining which half was better. “No, but that answers the question easy enough.”

“Speaking of your sister—”

He wanted answers, and Beau had some, but it felt wrong to offer them to Lyon. Not before Zia decided on her own fate. “I’d rather not. Not just yet.”

He frowned a little, but he didn’t press the issue.

“I haven’t...” She gestured helplessly at what would be their marital bed. “Obviously. I have been...very sheltered.”

“We will take it one step at a time.”

“Step?”

“We shared a kiss just this evening. Consider that step one, and enough for our first night as husband and wife.” He reached out, took her hand. He rubbed a thumb across her knuckles, then squeezed gently, reassuringly.

His hand was large, warm. It was the strangest sensation, because it sent a wave of nervy excitement through her. That anticipation she so liked to read about.

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