It was just her name, but his voice saying it forced her to turn toward him. Made her want to fall into his arms. Her blood went cold at that realization as she stared at him. He was utterly calm, completely in control. The only outward sign of what they’d done was his mussed hair, where her fingers had threaded. A few sweeps and he would be perfect again, untouched and unchanged by what they’d done.
Meanwhile, she would never be the same.
“We—we should not have done that,” she whispered.
He arched a brow. “You regret it?”
She caught her breath. Regret it? Sheshouldregret it. She should be horrified by what she’d done, not want to repeat it. Not want to do even more. That was part of the problem. Her reaction was wrong and terrible.
“I-I don’t—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said softly. “No matter what your friends or the stuffy women of thetonmight tell you. Pleasure is natural, something to be celebrated and sought, not shunned.”
She folded her arms. “So say you, a man. Someone who can take his pleasure without consequence. Meanwhile, I must now live with what I did. What I allowed you to do. If anyone found out, I would be labeled a wanton. My future prospects could be damaged.”
“What happened to living a life of adventure, without fear?” he asked as he pushed to his feet. When he moved toward her, she forgot all her clever answers and solid reasons for pulling away from him.
She forgot everything but that moment when his mouth had drawn intense pleasure from her. A sensation she hadn’t even known could exist.
She blinked, trying desperately to bring herself back to the present. To recall why what he suggested was unsafe and unsavory, despite the pleasurable results of it. And that was the danger of his actions, of her reaction. A few stolen moments and all her reason was gone. She was ready to throw everything to the wind for him.
She’d seen the results of such a loss of control before. Up close. Personal. The consequences of her mother’s obsession with her father had led to her going driving with him even when he’d been drinking. Had led to the accident that had torn them both away. They’d led to Sophie’s world being destroyed.
And here she was, standing at the edge of the very same cliff with Rowan Sinclair.
Rowan Sinclair, a confirmed rake. Rowan Sinclair, a seducer of women. Rowan Sinclair, who was looking at her like he knew he could draw her in at any time, suck her life away, make her follow him to the ends of the earth with just a crook of his talented fingers.
“There are some actions that go far beyond adventure. Into foolishness. Into places where I never should have gone.” She pushed past him, toward the door. The hothouse was suddenly too close, too dark, too intimate. She needed to flee.
But he didn’t let her. He caught her arm and tugged her back against his chest, forced to look up into his impossibly blue eyes. Eyes she could lose herself in. A man she could lose herself in.
“I don’t want to lose myself,” she said, not meaning to voice it out loud, but there it was. “This was a mistake, Rowan, no matter how pleasurable it was. And I can’t repeat it. I’m sorry, good—good night.”
She tugged her arm from his grip and he let her go. He had no response, but simply watched her as she walked away. It was funny that his silent regard was harder to escape from than any sweetly whispered words. Somehow, though, she managed it, and stepped from the steamy greenhouse and back into the world. Reality.
Which suddenly seemed far less sparkling than it had before.
Rowan lifted to the balls of his feet and scanned the ballroom a third time. Still, he found no trace of Sophie. Just as he hadn’t when he looked for her in the garden. Just as he hadn’t when he sought her out in the numerous parlors. She had disappeared.
And all he could think about was her crumpled expression when she whispered that she didn’t want to lose herself. He’d always seen her as so strong. So independent of spirit and mind. From the outside she looked untouchable, unbreakable, but now he’d seen a glimpse into the truth of her.
She was afraid. Afraid of the passion he’d awakened in her. Afraid of the idea of giving herself over to the care of another person, even for a moment.Thatwas why she said no.Nowas a cloak she wore, a shield she carried. Beneath was the soft and vulnerable heart of a woman.
And he was a bastard for having ulterior motives when it came to her.
“You look sour.”
He turned to find Percy coming toward him, a drink held out in offering. He took it but didn’t partake.“Do I?” he mused softly.
“I assume your desperate search to determine what has driven Lady No to become Lady Yes has come up short, despite your best efforts?” Percy teased.
Rowan turned his face. “Her reasons are her own,” he said softly. “It’s wrong to pry.”
Percy leaned back, eyebrows lifting. “When just a short time ago you were determined to be the hero of the Season?”
“I was not,” Rowan said, frustration rising in his chest. “I was curious, as I’m sure many are. The feeling has passed.”
“But you have been dancing with the lady. Spending time with her. You haven’t turned that to your advantage?”
