Without any deliberate intention, Miranda found herself spending much of her time with Benjamin. Leaving off one day left too many unfinished plans or discussions and it became easy to pick up again the next.

It was one such day that found them in Miranda's studio, looking through her paintings. Sharing artwork was deeply personal. Not that her content was intimate, but opening herself up to judgment of technique and style made her feel vulnerable, particularly since everyone claimed Benjamin was a great artist and she had yet to see his work.

Still, everything with him was so natural and when he had asked to see her studio, she had felt comfortable enough to agree. At the time, she had shown him her favorite place and mentioned it was also her favorite painting. Benjamin had stared for quite some time at the vista and thanked her for sharing such a special place. When he had gone on to say he'd love to see it through her eyes, she couldn't say no.

Now, of course, Miranda was beginning to feel shy about her skill. Benjamin studied the painting in silence, which caused her to feel even more insecure. Eventually, he quietly said, "Were you upset when you did this?"

This was not exactly what Miranda expected to hear and she wasn't even sure how to interpret it. "Well, I didn't spend as much time correcting the details as I should have. Actually, I was looking at the scene more than my canvas, so it could certainly use improvement," she hastily said.

"No, I think you misunderstand me. The colors seem a little darker, sadder than the vista, even the grass has a shade of blue. And you say you didn't look at the canvas much, but the brushstrokes look like you spent a lot of time in certain spots. I wouldn't change a thing, I just wonder what was going through your mind as you lost yourself in the view." His gazed shifted from the painting to look her straight in the eyes as he talked.

She seemed to get lost in the current view, snared by the brown depths of his eyes and his perceptive words. Shaking herself, she slowly admitted, "I was thinking of my mother. My father told me she used to walk that way a lot." Looking down at her hands, she whispered, "I wondered if she ever sat and admired it as I do."

Briefly, Benjamin reached over and squeezed her hand. Quickly letting go, he said "Maybe she did and wondered if her daughter would do the same one day."

Looking up, Miranda shot him a smile. When he asked to see some of her other work, she acquiesced and they spent quite some time poring through the many canvases.

As she was reaching for one in the back of the stack, she heard Benjamin whistle, "Well now, what do we have here? 'And she made him sit by placing her heel to his chest. Then she proceeded to undo her corset and teased him by touching herself. When he tried to stand or run his hands up her thigh, she moved her heel lower to his crotch, warning that if tried to pleasure her before she was ready, he'd pay." When Miranda turned around to face him, she saw a small worn book in his hand and his eyebrows arched in disbelief. "Is this what you spend your time reading?"

She blanched and wished fervently the ground would swallow her whole. Barely able to speak the words, she managed, "You…you won't tell anyone, will you?"

His face changed from shock to a wide grin. "No, Miss Bailey, I won't tell anyone." Looking down, he continued less confidently, "actually, when you finish, perhaps I could borrow it?"

Relief flooded her and she laughed at the unexpected question. Benjamin was proving to be quite the unusual man. "Certainly, you can take that one, I've actually read it before. And you're welcome to borrow my others."

"How on earth did you come by them?"

"In a similar way to you," she smiled, "I stumbled upon a maid reading one and since then, have had her buy me several."

"So this is a subject that holds your interest?" he asked.

Blushing, Miranda didn't waver, "I'm curious. Very curious. It seems unfair that men are able to not only discuss, but satiate their curiosity while women must not even think of it."

His response of, "Very true," surprised her. Most men would think such knowledge would taint a woman, but she was pleased to learn Benjamin was not one of them. "As much as I would love to continue this conversation, it's getting late and I had promised to meet my father and Franscesca for dinner. Thank you for showing your wonderful paintings…and of course the enlightening discussion," he smirked.

"Are you still planning on picking me up for our walk tomorrow?" she questioned.

"Of course, I'll see you at noon." Pocketing the book, he said goodbye and left.

Benjamin still could not believe the events of the last day. Discovering that Miranda, a perfect lady in every sense, had a deep seated desire to learn more about, well, desire, excited him in ways he knew weren't proper. Walking with her through the twisting path, he wished he could find a way to bring the matter up, but seemed at a loss.

From nowhere, Miranda suddenly asked, "What's it like?"

Thinking over their recent conversation to determine what she meant, he came up empty, "What do you mean?"

"You know, to make love," she prodded as if this were everyday conversation.

Benjamin gasped. Apparently, her train of thought was the same as him. "Well, I wouldn't know," he answered.

"Please, you don't expect me to believe men don't engage in lovemaking long before marriage. I know all about brothels. Surely you've been to one."

Momentarily at a loss for words, he paused. Finally he shared, "Truthfully, I have been. At school, friends were eager to debauch the 'youngest classmate.' However, I couldn't stomach the thought of being with someone because I paid her and that hundreds of others had been to. So after what seemed like a reasonable time, I left. Though I have been back many times since, to many different…women," seeing her eyebrows raised in question, he quickly continued, "to draw them. As an artist, studying the human figure is important. Many famous artists do it as well. I've drawn some men, but women are the most accessible, because of brothels." He risked a glance at her.

"So in all your time there, you never did a thing? Not even a kiss?" she asked incredulously.

"No, I've never kissed a prostitute, but I have kissed before," now he looked at anywhere, but Miranda. "I did learn some things, though. As I drew, I asked many questions since I'm also curious."

"Hmmm," she contemplated aloud, "Have you ever thought of practicing certain…skills? So that when the right person comes along, you can hold your own?"

This discussion was becoming more and more surprising. Not sure exactly what Miranda was thinking, he answered, "No, not really. I mean it would be nice to impress whomever that may be, but as I said, I have some experience. Surely with all of your admirers, you have a little?"

Sighing, she admitted, "None. Of course I've had opportunities, but none of the men really appealed to me, or I just didn't trust them. I was always afraid they would misunderstand and then it could become quite a mess. I'm just anxious to see what it feels like and not make a complete fool of myself to my future husband."

Afraid to ask, Benjamin did nonetheless, "And how do you envision this future husband? Handsome, charming, rich, and titled?"

Looking wistful, she responded, "Among other things."

"Other things?" he prompted.

"Well, all of that is nothing without kindness and humor."

Knowing he didn't measure up to those qualities, Benjamin sighed inwardly. Of course he had always known he could never be enough for Miranda, still, hearing it was painful.

"You could help me to practice," she murmured, looking up at him.

Could she really be implying what he suspected? "In what way?" he inquired.

"You could kiss me, as practice." Seeing his dubious expression, she quickly added, "Not if it would bring you discomfort, though."

So, he could finally learn how it felt to have those lips on his, but only in preparation for some other man. She didn't have any feelings for him, she'd made that perfectly clear. Would it be right to kiss with their conflicting emotions? Was it right, for that matter, to even kiss someone under the pretenses of practice?

During his internal debate, she peered up at him with a questioning look. If he said no to this, she might go in search of some other partner, one who could take advantage. Besides, he reasoned, the entire scheme was her idea…and this was surely the only way he'd ever get to kiss Miranda Bailey but he didn't want her innocence and one to think she was tainted.

"I have no qualms if it's truly your wish," he finally answered.

She beamed up at him, "Perfect. Let's step off the path, in case someone comes by."

"You mean to do it now?" he wondered.

"Why not? Unless you have reservations about kissing in the woods?" she teased.

Weaving their way through the trees, they found a spot far enough not to be seen from the trail. Facing him, Miranda tentatively put her hands on his shoulders, and looked expectantly into his eyes. "I'm waiting," she whispered.

Following her example, he gently placed his hands on her waist and slowly drew her closer. If he'd been intimated by her beauty from afar, this proximity left him speechless. Taking everything in, including her enticing scent, he closed his eyes, then slowly brought his lips to rest on hers. They felt so soft and tasted so sweet he didn't want to stop, but he eventually drew back with an inquiring look.

After a moment she opened her eyes and flashed him a bright smile. "That was quite nice, but I want to try the other kissing…you know, the kind with our mouths open." With a searching look, she asked, "have you kissed that way before?"

He chuckled, "Yes. As you wish, Miss Bailey." His mocking transformed into seriousness as he bent down again claiming her mouth, only this time, he ran his tongue over her lips. When she sighed, he slowly explored his way into her mouth. Finding her tongue, they entered into a slow sensual dance. Trying to maintain some control, Benjamin drew back, shakily this time.

When Miranda failed to respond, he said, "Did that satisfy?"

"Oh yes," she answered after a moment, "But I'll need to practice much more. And perhaps move my hands, right? They shouldn't just stay in one place?"

Benjamin was starting to believe this was going to be the end of him. "I think you're over thinking. Just do what feels most natural, there's no wrong way. However, you have my permission to let your hands roam anywhere."

This time, he pulled her so close, the full length of their bodies was touching. Then he kissed her deeply again. Following his own advice, he let his fingers trace over her cheek moving down to caress her neck. Stroking her sides, he stopped just shy of her breast and heard her moan. At first, he felt her hands mimic some of his movements. With increasing boldness, she followed these by several of her own. Suddenly her hands were everywhere, on his arms, his back, and on the back of his head causing him to moan. Her urgency spurred him on and soon he felt lost in their passion.

Except, maybe it was only his passion. This thought came unbidden, causing him to step back. His unexpected withdrawal caused her to sway and he reached out a hand to steady her.

"Well, now you won't feel so inexperienced," he quickly said, looking beyond her.

"That was…wonderful! I can understand why everyone gets so caught up in it all," she gushed. After a pause, she asked, concerned, "Could you tell it was my first time? Was I terribly bad at kissing?"

Laughing, Benjamin answered, "You did an excellent job for your first time."

"Hmm, 'excellent…for my first time,' not simply excellent. I believe that means I have much more practice to do," she reasoned.

"No, you misunderstand, it truly was exceptional. You have no need to improve," he tried again.

Miranda remained unconvinced, "'No need to improve?' That means I can improve. I'm sorry Benjamin, but I must ask you to help me a little longer."