Page 73 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

“And did those lessons include being stranded in cottages with thoroughly improper company?” she asked lightly, so painfully aware of how her heart trembled.

“It appears so. Though I must disagree with your description. The circumstances may be improper, but you are not.”

“Even so, I believe you ought to know that your virtue is perfectly safe with me, my lord.”

He laughed, the sound absurdly delicious to her.

“My virtue?”

“Agatha told me that when a gentleman and lady are forced to spend the night alone through circumstances beyond their control, society insists upon marriage even if they are wholly unsuited for each other. I mean only to assure you that I shall make no such demand.”

“How reassuring that you would protect my reputation and virtue. I had feared being compromised and marched to the altar before breakfast,” he said dryly. “But I am the rake, Darcy. I ought to be the one offering assurances.”

Darcy’s mouth twitched. “I know I am safe with you.”

“How certain you sound,” he murmured, the amusement in his voice deepening, though something warmer entered his gaze.

A spark caught, and within moments the fire began to take, small flames licking upward before settling into a steady burn. Its warmth slowly pushed back the chill lodged in Darcy’s bones. She moved closer and extended her hands toward it, but her soaked sleeves clung heavily to her arms, and she could not suppress the shiver that passed through her. Sebastian rose and came to stand beside her, close enough that the heat of his body seemed to mingle with that of the fire.

“You are cold,” he said quietly.

“I am drenched,” she corrected, though there was a softness to her tone.

For a moment, neither spoke. The squall raged beyond the walls, the steady drum of rain and the distant roll of thunder enclosing the small cottage in an isolation that felt almost indecently intimate.

“Have we taken shelter in someone’s home? Might they return soon?”

“Several of the cottages upon my land have stood empty for some time. I have my steward ensure they are kept clean and properly maintained.”

“Oh.”

Heat unfurled low in her belly. They were truly alone, with no servant, tenant, or wandering guest likely to intrude upon them. Darcy’s gaze lingered longer on Sebastian than it ought. Water traced the hard line of his jaw and gathered in the hollow of his throat, while his wet shirt clung to the breadth of his chest in a manner propriety forbade her to study. Yet she studied him all the same.

His mouth quirked. “Given your determination to protect my virtue, it would be best if you did not look at me in that manner.”

“In what manner am I looking at you?” she asked, her voice quieter now. The intentness of his regard sent something low and unsteady stirring through her, and she immediately regretted the question.

Sebastian’s gaze descended to her mouth, and her entire body answered. Her nipples tightened beneath the wet fabric of her gown, while a slow, traitorous heat gathered between her thighs. She had known his blatant sensuality as Red, but feeling it directed at Darcy was infinitely more dangerous.

“Please do not answer. I shall endeavor to be more cautious with my regard in future,” she replied, though her lips curved faintly.

“I would rather you did not,” he said.

Darcy’s breath faltered slightly, though she masked it with a small, questioning lift of her brow. “And why is that?”

“How honest do you wish me to be?”

“Very honest.” The words escaped before caution could reclaim them. What was this burning ache inside her chest, part fear and part yearning, that made her want every dangerous truth he might offer?

He stepped a fraction closer. “When a woman looks at me as you are doing now, I find I have very little objection to whatever circumstances might follow.”

A wild yearning tightened deep within her, urging her to close the distance and throw herself into his arms. She already knew the taste of him, the strength of his body against hers, and the sublime pleasure waiting within his embrace.

I am not Red in this moment, she reminded herself desperately. I am Darcy.

The fire crackled softly beside them, its warmth rising, though it did nothing to temper the heat gathering in the narrow space they shared.

Darcy did not retreat. Every sensible thought seemed to dissolve beneath the intensity of his regard, leaving only the deep, insistent pull of want. She could not recall when she had ceased trying to resist him, only that resistance now felt beyond her reach.