Roarke was still, save for his fingers moving now from one point to another across her skin, mapping each place where her perfection was broken.  He felt his desire and need welling up now, his dreams and fantasies of her...<br/><br/>"I'm glad for that," he said after several long moments, "And I'm sorry...."  Sorry that he hadn't believed her when she'd all but begged him to treat her as a woman rather than a princess.  Or was he sorry that it had been another who had done what he'd dreamed of doing?  Perhaps it was both... He leaned down and reached for the brush, taking it from her lap and lifting it to her hair to resume the brushing she'd stopped.  He wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling or what he wanted to say to her, so he focused on that act of simple intimacy.