Page 37 of The Earl’s Hoyden

She exhaled with a laugh of excitement. “I see it. Is Orion Greek as well?”

“He is,” Lucien replied.

Hannah glanced up at him, her gaze somewhat coquettish. “But why his belt?”

“He was a hunter, one immortalized by the Gods to hold a place in the night sky.”

“Why?” Hannah asked as she regarded the night sky, thoroughly fascinated in a way that delighted Lucien.

His fears of boring her had been groundless.

“Orion was son to a king’s daughter and the sea god, Poseidon,” Lucien continued. “Orion was purported to be immensely handsome and a great hunter, but he made the mistake of claiming he would kill all the animals on earth, and so Gaia, the mother of earth, created a scorpion, which stung him and killed him.”

Hannah gasped. “That’s terrible.”

“Then you may not like the ending of the story.”

She turned her wide blue eyes from the stars and toward him once more. “Do tell.”

“There is another constellation you cannot see when Orion’s Belt is visible, and that is Scorpius.”

“The scorpion,” she guessed.

Lucien nodded, unable to pull his gaze from the way the light caressed her smooth skin. “For all eternity, Orion will stalk the scorpion in the winter and run away in fear in the summer. It is said Zeus elevated them into the sky to remind mortals not to be too proud.”

Her lashes cast in long shadows over her cheeks, her lips gently parted. “That’s awful,” she whispered.

But neither of them were looking at the stars anymore. They were both fixed on one another as if there were no sky overhead or ground at their feet. As if the ball behind them did not exist, and neither did any excuse not to touch her. Kiss her. His heart thundered like a drum against his ribs.

“Terrible,” he agreed in a low murmur.

Her chin notched slightly higher as she closed her eyes. He reached for her, touching her cheek with his hands, loathing the gloves he wore.

But it was not merely his touch on her bare skin that he wanted. He lowered his head to hers and let their lips touch. Though her chin was as cold as the surrounding air, her mouth was hot and plush, the whisper of lemonade on her lips and something else…

Brandy?

He swept the tip of his tongue over the fullness of her bottom lip, and her mouth opened, yielding to him. A rush of heat suffused his body, and a sudden urgency claimed him, desperate to grab her to him, to crush her sweet curves against the hardness swelling at his loins.

While he managed to quell such temptation, he couldn’t stop himself from brushing his tongue against hers. She gasped softly, and he knew he had gone too far. He immediately drew away, stepping back and putting a fair amount of distance between them even as he glanced to the doors to ensure no one had seen them.

“Forgive me, Miss Bexley. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you in such a manner.” His apology came out at the same time she said, “I shouldn’t have…I’m so…”

They laughed, and she ducked her head down with a sudden shyness that left him wanting to pull her to him again.

“Please, call me Hannah,” she said. “But I ought to return inside. Before I’m missed. My mother…” She rolled her eyes, letting the gesture speak for her.

“If you’ll call me Lucien.” He came forward. “Shall I escort you inside?”

She stopped him with the shake of her head. “It might be best to go in alone, given how long we’ve been out here.” She pressed her lips together as though savoring the reminder of their kiss.

Or perhaps he was hoping she was, the same as him.

He nodded. “Yes, of course. Good evening, Hannah.”

“Good evening…Lucien.” With that, she departed the terrace, her slippers silent on the cold stone as she left him alone beneath a canopy of stars. He hesitated there a moment, unable to stifle his lack of enthusiasm to return indoors where ladies would crowd him in the hopes of a dance.

Already he was tired of it all: the attention, the dancing and the dull conversations. He wanted to spend the rest of his evening with Hannah if he could free himself for a moment to do so.