““In the top drawer of my bedside table, there’s a small box. It contains everything we need to make our night pleasurable. If you have to, leave everything else behind but bring that box.” She snorted as if in derision—but it was a weak snort. She walked toward the steps again. “Amy.” She turned back to him. “What?” “Did you notice I didn’t ask for a nightshirt?” She glanced at his lit in her hand and wondered why he told her that. Then she knew why. He had just told her he slept nude. Every night in the cellar right beneath her bedchamber, his naked body remained at the ready to welcome her. Now that she knew it, she could never escape the image . . . or the temptation.””
