Deena turned to him with a surprised look. “You’ve only just realized this?”
“I’ve known it,” he admitted. “But hearing it from you… it lands differently.”
Moonlight caught the faint smile she tried to hide. “Do not try to change the topic. It’s your turn. Tell me something outrageous.”
Austin resumed walking, his hand brushing the small of her back to guide her gently towards the lit arbor where lanterns glowed like golden fruit overhead. The touch was light, proper—yet the heat of her body seared through the thin fabric of her gown, and he felt her spine stiffen, then soften, just slightly.
He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur, pitched for her ears alone. “Very well. Last Season, Lady X, who is married, beautiful, and famously virtuous, invited me to her private sitting room to ‘discuss a charitable subscription.’ The door locked behind us with a very deliberate click. Within ten minutes, her gown was pooled on the floor, her legs wrapped tight around my waist. She begged me, quite desperately, I must add, to ruin her completely and make her forget her cold, indifferent husband ever existed.”
Deena’s step faltered, and she stared at him slack-jawed. The lantern light painted gold across her freckles and caught in her widened green eyes. “You’re making that up.”
Austin stepped close enough that the faint scent of roses in her hair mingled with the night air. “I wish I were,” he said, his eyes not leaving hers. “She still sends me notes drenched in jasmine, pleading for another afternoon. I burn them unread.”
Deena’s cheeks flushed a deep rose, and Austin was sure that it had nothing to do with the cool night. Her gaze dropped to his mouth for the briefest instant, then flicked away.
“That… will certainly sell pamphlets.”
“Good.” He didn’t move back. The space between them felt tense. He could see the quick rise and fall of her chest, and the way her lower lip caught between her teeth before she released it. It was plump and glistening.
“Your move,” he said softly. “Another secret?”
She drew a slow breath, as if steadying herself. Her eyes slid past him to the deeper garden, where the lanterns ended, and darkness began.
“I want to go off the path. There are more fireflies in the meadow.”
Austin’s pulse kicked hard.
An isolated, dark place with Deena?All alone, no watchful eyes, and no rules. Every instinct roared yes. He pictured pressing her against the tall grass, skirts rucked up around her thighs, her legs wrapped around him, gasping his name. Her nails scored his back, her body clenched hot and wet around him.
He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “We should stay where it’s lit.”
But Deena lifted her chin in that defiant way he was beginning to crave. “Are you afraid of the dark, Your Grace?”
He stepped closer to her until they were only inches apart and his voice dropped to a near-growl. “I’m more afraid of what I might do in it.”
Her eyes widened a fraction, and her lips parted on a soft, involuntary inhale. The sound went straight to his groin. For a heartbeat he thought she might lean in and might let him close the distance and finally discover how she tasted.
Instead, she turned, slipping past the last lantern and disappearing into the shadows.
“I’ll be quick,” she called out.
“Deena—”
Seven
Deena pushed through some of the tall grass until she reached the spot she was searching for. She grinned and ran to stand in the heart of the clearing, jar dangling forgotten from her fingers as fireflies swirled around her like a living constellation.
The night air was cool against her flushed skin, but inside she burned from the chase through the grass, from the thrill of the night, and from knowing that Austin was following closely behind her. Every sense felt heightened: the soft rustle of leaves, the distant hum of the party, the heavy beat of her own heart.
“Deena!”
Quick and purposeful footsteps crunched behind her. She turned just as he emerged from the shadows, breathing heavily. His dark hair was disheveled, and his eyes pinned her in place with an intensity that stole her breath.
“You shouldn’t have run off like that,” Austin scolded her. He closed the distance in three long strides, stopping so close she had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. The moonlight highlighted the tension in his jaw and the faint flare of his nostrils as he breathed deeply.
Deena’s pulse thundered in her ears. “I’m hardly helpless, Austin. I survived five years in Paris without anyone hovering over me.”
He took another half-step, until the heat radiating from his body brushed against her like an invisible caress, raising gooseflesh along her arms. “This isn’t Paris,” he murmured, eyes dropping to her mouth and lingering there with deliberate, scorching slowness. “And tonight… you’re under my care.”
