"You look unconvinced. Maybe the spectacles mar the effect." She took them off and set them on the nearest lacquered table. Then she leaned back on the pillow again and essayed a killing glance from beneath her lashes. Simon was a large, dark blur across the room. "Is that any better?"

"A bit more authentic-looking, I believe."

Emily stretched out on her side. The skirts of her gown edged up the length of her leg, revealing her stockings. She pursed her lips and tried for a harem lady's pout. "There. How is that?"

"Emily, are you by any chance flirting with me?" Simon asked softly.

"Well, as to that…" It helped not to be able to see his expression clearly. Emily felt the warmth rising in her cheeks as she considered the question carefully. "Yes, I believe I am." She held her breath, waiting for his response.

"You are in a rather strange mood tonight, are you not?"

"I am happy, Simon," she said, waving one hand to encompass the whole world. "I feel as if I am floating. I have had the most exciting, most wonderful evening of my whole life."

"And now you want to conclude it by having me make love to you?"

Emily sighed and flopped onto her back, her arms stretched high above her head. She contemplated the blurry ceiling. "I told you, Simon, I am a creature of excessive passions. Perhaps my sensibilities have been overstimulated by all the excitement tonight."

"A possibility."

"Simon?"

"Yes, Emily?"

She drew a deep breath. "You told me that the last time we made love I did not quite get the hang of it."

"I told you that you needed practice, as I recall," he murmured.

She rolled back onto her side and propped herself on her elbow. "Yes. Practice. I believe I should like very much to practice tonight."

There was a faint pause. Then Simon's voice came, low, dark, and silky with sensual menace. "I also told you something else, Emily."

Emily sat up on the pillow, drawing her knees up under her chin so that her skirts foamed around her toes. She groped for the brandy glass. When she found it she took a large swallow and put the glass carefully back down on the table. Then she wrapped her arms around her updrawn knees.

"You told me I would have to beg you to make love to me," Emily finally said, hugging her knees very tightly.

"I will settle for being asked very nicely. The point is, my dear, I do not wish there to be any accusations in the morning. You are not going to be able to say I tricked you."

"I will not say that, Simon." She waited in an agony of anticipation mixed with uncertainty. "Simon?"

"Yes, Emily?"

"Will you please make love to me?"

A strange stillness settled on the dark, exotic room.

There was a faint clink and Emily knew Simon had just set his brandy glass down on the desk. She watched him come toward her. She was unable to see his expression without her spectacles but her whole body was tingling with awareness. She could sense the heavy, enveloping aura of his masculinity and knew that could only be because they really did communicate on a higher plane.

Simon halted at the edge of the huge satin pillow, the most powerful dragon in a room full of the creatures. Without a word he lowered himself down beside Emily and took her into his arms.

Slowly, deliberately, he pushed her back down onto the gold brocade. Leaning over her, he looked down into her face. He was so close now that Emily could see the molten gold in his eyes.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Simon stroked the delicate line of her jaw with his thumb.

"Yes," she whispered, almost unable to get the single word out because of the tightness in her throat. The odd breathless feeling was sweeping through her again, as it always did when Simon took her in his arms. "Please, Simon."

"Very well, Emily." He bent his head and dropped a heated kiss on the top of her breast, which was exposed by the low neckline of her ball gown. "Just remember in the morning that this was all your idea."

"Yes, Simon." She wrapped her arms slowly around his neck. Then she smiled tremulously. "It was not nearly so bad as you probably thought it would be, you know."

"What was not so bad?" He slid the puffy little sleeve of the gown slowly down over her shoulder.

"Begging you to make love to me." Her smile turned into an exuberant little laugh. "It was not so bad at all."

"I am glad." Simon eased the bodice of the gown lower and one apple-shaped breast was freed. He circled the nipple with his forefinger. "Perhaps you will ask me again sometime."

"I expect I will," Emily said complacently. "If it turns out to be as transcendent an experience as you have promised."

Simon gave a husky laugh that turned into a groan. "I can see that I shall have to do it properly this time."

Emily shivered as she felt his finger trace another circle around the tip of her breast. She stirred restlessly, her legs sliding over the brocaded satin. Simon's mouth came down over hers and at the same time he pinned her thighs with one of his own.

Emily parted her lips and Simon's tongue slipped into the warmth of her mouth. She could taste the brandy he had been drinking. At the same time the scent of him filled her head. She tightened her arms around his neck and instinctively tried to arch her hips against his.

"No," Simon whispered, breaking the contact with her mouth. "This time we will do things very slowly." He unfastened the bodice of the gown and pushed the gossamer fabric to her waist.

Emily had her eyes closed now but she could feel the heat of his gaze on her breasts. It burned her, branded her, heated her blood. The big pillow on which she reclined was like a great, fluffy, golden cloud. She was sinking deeper and deeper into it as Simon let more of his weight come down on her.

"You have beautiful skin, Emily. Soft and delicate and made to be touched." Simon trailed a string of small, damp kisses down her throat and over her breast. His teeth closed gently over her nipple and his hand slipped beneath the lowered bodice of the gown.

Emily sucked in her breath. She twisted beneath his hand, already aching for a more intimate touch. "Simon?"

"No, not yet. I told you, this time I am not going to rush things. This time I will stay in control of myself and you will go wild, elf."

He tugged the emerald ballgown and the thin petticoat she wore under it off over her head. Then he reached down and deftly untied her garters. His hand slid intimately along the curves of her legs as he slipped the stockings off.

Emily turned her flaming face into his pleated white shirt, clutching at him. Simon laughed softly and cupped her buttocks, squeezing gently.

Emily was aware of the feel of the gold satin under her back and hips. It was a wonderfully pagan sensation. "Do I look like a harem lady now?"

Simon smiled slowly and combed his fingers through the triangle of red hair at the top of her thighs. "A very rare and unusual harem lady," he agreed. "You would bring a very high price, indeed, if you were to go on the auction block."

She looked up at him through her lashes, feeling deliciously wanton. "Would you sell me?"

"Never," he vowed, voice darkening abruptly. His fingers tightened possessively in the red curls. Then he drew back slightly.

Emily's eyes flew open as he pulled away. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing at all, my sweet. I am just going to get a bit more comfortable." Simon tugged off his shirt and the dangling cravat. Then his hands went to the fastening of his breeches. In a moment he was gloriously naked. The firelight gleamed on the muscular contours of his shoulders and thighs, revealing his full arousal.

"Pashas generally take their clothes off when they make love to one of the members of their harem," Simon said as he came back down beside Emily.