Truth about Leo by Katie MacAlister

bigger?”
    â€œIt’s the sea air.” She regarded her chest mournfully. “I don’t suppose binding my breasts would help?”
    â€œMost decidedly not. In fact, I forbid you even thinking about it.”
    â€œI think there’s something you should know about me,” Dagmar announced.
    â€œI’m sure there are any number of things I should know, about you and our marriage, and since we’re on that subject, I’d like a few answers—”
    â€œI don’t take well to being forbidden things,” she said calmly. “I never have. Dearest Papa said I got that from my mother, but I believe it’s because I had to put up with Frederick bossing me around while Papa was ill. Frederick was forever forbidding me things.”
    Leo just blinked his eyelashes over those interesting eyes and looked at her as if she were a boiled pig’s head.
    â€œIf it’s not my bosom—which I hope will shrink back to normal once it’s out of the sea air—then is it something else about my person that repels you, or is it a general unwillingness to bed me?”
    Leo took a deep breath. “I’m neither unwilling nor repelled, but I don’t wish to discuss your breasts—which I have to say I find utterly delightful as they are—and would, in fact, like to have an explanation that I have been attempting to seek from you for the last two days. The time has come, Wife , for the reckoning.”
    Dagmar flinched just a little at the emphasis on “wife.” He never once questioned the validity of the marriage documents she’d brought with her, although just the day before he demanded to have charge of them, and reluctantly, she’d given them over into his possession.
    One thought led to another, and before she could stop herself, she said, “I don’t need the marriage lines to divorce you, you know. They’re in the records of both the bishop and Copenhagen. And of course, my cousin sent the bishop to marry us, so he would be able to testify that we were properly wed.”
    Leo looked confused. “According to the papers, we’ve only just been married, and you’re talking about divorce?”
    â€œNot in the sense you mean. I simply wanted to point out that should I desire it, I could divorce you. I believe it’s more difficult in England for a woman to divorce her husband, but in Denmark, it’s not at all uncommon.”
    A wry smile twisted Leo’s mouth. “Thank you for the warning. Now then, shall we start at the beginning? Where did we meet?”
    â€œIn Copenhagen.” She smoothed a hand over the bed linens, wondering what it would be like to burrow into them and cocoon herself with his scent. “I like the way you smell.”
    â€œOh no,” he said, waggling a finger. “I’m familiar with your ways now, so there will be no distracting me with talk of your breasts and how large they are, and how perfectly they would fit into my hands and how I would like to rub them all over myself. We are going to stick to the topic at hand. Where in particular did we meet?”
    â€œMy back garden.” She thought about what he said. This rubbing of her bosom on his person hadn’t, at first, seemed an overly attractive thought, but the more she dwelt on it, the more pleasing it became. Should she invite him to take her breasts in his hands? She looked at his hands where they rested on his thighs, then she looked at his thighs and lost all thoughts of anything else.
    His brow wrinkled. “Your garden? Was it a party of some sort?”
    â€œYou have very nice thighs.” She was staring, she knew, but she couldn’t stop herself. Through the stretched material, she could make out the heavy thigh muscle that indicated a man who spent a vast amount of time in the saddle. “If I let you take my breasts in your hands, would you let me stroke your thighs?”
    He fell off the