She stared at him a long moment, mentally calculating his age. “How old are you?” she blurted.
He smiled. “I just celebrated my twenty-eighth birthday in March. And you, Jenna? How old you are?”
“I’ll soon be celebrating my twenty-first birthday.”
He looked at her in surprise. “I would have thought you no more than eighteen.”
She made a face. “I wasn’t ever presented at court. This really isn’t an official season for me at all. My parents saw no need since I was already affianced to Stuart.”
“Is that his name...Stuart?”
“Yes, he is Viscount Dudley’s son.”
“Interesting fellow, your fiancé.”
“You’ve met him?”
“Not formally, of course, but I did see him at a few balls I attended.”
Jenna looked down at her hands. “He didn’t used to be so...so foppish. I don’t know why he became such.”
“Well I can certainly understand why you came to me with your proposition.”
She looked up, and he winked devilishly at her. Peals of laughter bubbled up in her chest, and she gasped for breath as she laughed even harder.
She gazed down at the man lying in front of her and marveled at how she’d come to this. She’d never spoken this frankly with anyone apart from Quinn. Nor had she enjoyed herself as thoroughly in another’s company.
A completely different kind of ache assailed her as she took in his warm smile and casual air. If only she could look forward to such a relationship with Stuart.
His voice broke through her thoughts, and she blinked rapidly.
“How was your evening?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him of her brush with danger at the opera, but she had no desire to ruin the mood between them. “I looked forward to seeing you the entire evening,” she admitted.
Gray smiled then stretched out and turned away to look into the flames of the fireplace. Muscles rippled across his back, barely disguised by the thin dressing shirt he wore. His black curls lingered temptingly above his collar, and she wanted to run her fingertips through them.
Propelled by something she couldn’t explain, she moved forward, kneeling behind him. Immediately, his scent surrounded her and beckoned her even closer. Her fingers came out and softly stroked the ebony strands of hair. He turned over and caught her hand in his, pulling her down to his chest.
Their faces were just inches apart and their eyes locked, neither looking away from the intense perusal. Finally, she lowered her lips and softly moved them over his.
He groaned low in his throat and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her solidly against his chest. Encouraged by his response, she deepened her kiss, prodding his mouth open with her tongue. He tasted like wine and mint, and she couldn’t get enough of him.
When she finally drew away, their eyes met again, and she was lost in a swirl of smoke. “I think I just might like you, Grayson Douglas.”
His chest rumbled underneath her, and he rolled her over to rest beside him. “And what prompted this most startling revelation?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt as comfortable in another person’s company as I do yours.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t know what to say. I think perhaps that is the best compliment anyone has ever paid me.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she felt an unexpected pleasure at his words. His hand came to rest on her waist, and he slid his other arm under her head so they were looking one another in the eye. “Now I’d like to know more about you,” he said.
“There isn’t much to tell.”
“Nonsense. Let’s start with what you like to do in your free time.”
She ducked her head. “I like to write,” she mumbled.
