When would an opportunity like this ever present itself again?
For years, she had been hidden away in her late father’s country house, a ghost of her former self. Thetongossiped about her unmercifully while she remained locked behind gilded bars. Her father had died when she was a girl, so at least he hadn’t lived to witness his only child’s disgrace. And her mother saw to it that she never forgot it. Few outings. No social calls. Just one pitying trip to London each year for shopping, where she was reminded—always reminded—that she no longer belonged.
Butthis—this was freedom.
Meredith’s country house party was the one event in all these years that her mother had begrudgingly allowed her to attend, and Clare wasn’t about to squander the only real chance she had.
Because she had told Ash the truth.
She wanted this.
She wanted to erase the memory of the Earl of Marsden’s kisses from her mind forever.
That bastard had ruined her. And she had walked willingly into his trap, mistaking charm for affection, mistaking her own desperation for love. She had no one to blame but herself—and she knew it. She had long since made peace with her actions, had taken responsibility for her choices, but it didn’t erase the regret.
Regret that she would never get to kiss a man again, let alone find love, marry, give birth to children. Of course, Marsden had suffered much less than she had. He’d left town briefly, gone to the Continent. Stayed away for about six whole months. What a sacrifice!
Then he’d returned to pick up right where he’d left off. He courted another young woman, married her, and proceeded to have half a dozen children. Of course, to this day, he was still known for his indiscretions and his poor wife was pitied behind closed doors, but the man himself had paid no real penance. It was unfair at best, nearly criminal at worse.
And the thing Clare most detested was that the one memory she had of making love was with a selfish, careless bastard who had taught her nothing and taken everything.
She refused to accept that. She wanted a new fate.
She wanted a new kiss. Arealkiss. A good one, administered by a man who knew precisely what he was about. And this time, it would be from a man worthy of kissing.
Trentham scratched the back of his neck, his brow furrowed. “I’m not certain?—”
“Please don’t tell me you’re not certain that it’s a good idea,” she interrupted, quite businesslike. “Of course, it’s not a good idea. But neither is meeting down here in the middle of the night and drinking brandy we have not been offered.” She cocked her head, a teasing smile playing at her lips. “Besides, I didn’t think you were one for valuing good ideas at all times. Was I mistaken?”
Ash’s eyes flared slightly at that, and she knew she had struck a nerve.
Because he loved being theton’s most scandalous lord. He reveled in it.
He was the man who flouted convention, the man who publicly swore off marriage just to spite his dead father. He was reckless, unpredictable, and wholly unconcerned with what anyone thought.
So why was he hesitating now?
“You want me to kiss you?” he asked, his voice low, his gaze assessing. There was something in his expression she recognized.
Interest.
Dare she hope…lust?
“Yes,” she said simply, nodding. She needed to treat this with no emotion whatsoever. Emotion would only scare off a man like Ash. She didn’t want to force him into marriage. On the contrary, she only wanted one simple kiss.
His lips twitched. “And what if it doesn’t meet your standards?”
Her brows shot up. “You and I both know you’re far too confident to allow that to happen.”
That made him laugh, slow and rich, and damn him, but he was even more handsome when he smiled. The dark hair. The gray eyes. The mouth that looked like it was made for sin. Hell, his profile alone made her knees weak.
“Flattering me now?” he mused.
She shrugged one shoulder.Hmm. So he was clever enough to see through that? “If it will get me what I want.”
He bit his lip. A sign of hesitation?
She decided to push.
