Even the lightest, most innocent touch of her hand on his cheek sent a shiver down his spine, much as the spoken sentiment did. There was a different kind of intimacy to it, in the here and now, alone in the room, on the verge of something else; some newfound power in every thought and every movement.

That said, he hadn’t missed the blush that crossed her face just before, and he was glad, because it made him grin hopelessly, precisely as it always did. Elsie would not be Elsie without that familiar rosy flush on her face. And it ought not to be too difficult to make her blush again (in a good way, hopefully), and perhaps it was because she hadn’t hesitated, had told him she trusted him, or just that first thought after all, but suddenly Tyb had completely forgotten his nerves. Better just to revel in the moment, savour everything of it he could.

(Why anyone trusted him in anything at all was a mad thought of its own, but he was not going to argue with her.) Still grinning slightly, he leant back again to pull his shirt off over his head, and his undershirt with it, tossing them both easily aside - though, wildly, the exposure had little impact on the fervent heat he was feeling. And the yearning remained to be still closer, to melt into her presence as much as he could. Moving closer again, his hands raked over her, searching for bare skin; his fingers found the edge of her slender collarbone, and traced along it until he could slide the unbuttoned bodice off her shoulders completely, and make some progress there. There were still several layers left - the corset (and how did one wrest off a corset, exactly? Maybe she would do him a favour and hasten the process?), a chemise - but the fewer between them the better.

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