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She looked up into his face. He was all dark, glistening eyes, and his broad chest rose and fell quickly, as well.

“Heavens, Jane,” he murmured. “Why do you look like that, begging for me to kiss you…”

She couldn’t quite believe she was hearing him say that after how clumsily she had danced and how awkwardly she had talked to his family and friends. There had been so many malicious, judging gazes directed at her by the other ladies present.

“Richard—”

“You’re magnificent,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you that. Do not let anyone dictate who you are and where you belong. You belong there.” He pointed at the light behind the doors. “But only if you want to.”

He took one step closer to her, enveloping her in his intoxicating, masculine scent. He backed her up against the wall of the house.

“What are you doing?” Her pulse drummed loudly in her ears. “We agreed…no touching…”

He nodded, his eyes impossibly wild. “And no kissing.” He bowed his head, his lips coming closer to hers. “Tell me you don’t want this. One word, and I’ll stop…”

She breathed, inhaling his clean scent. Tell him no. He is a rake…this is what he does. All of this means nothing to him…

But her lips couldn’t form a no. All they wanted to say was yes.

“Last chance, Jane…” He inched so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips.

“Oh, blast…” she murmured.

He chuckled and gave a soft, satisfied male smile. And then he did exactly what she promised herself and him they would never do again. Exactly what Thorne would kill him for. Exactly what would ruin her if anyone saw them, even if he was her fiancé.

He wrapped his magnificent, hard arms around her and kissed her.

His lips were so warm and so soft and brushed against hers with such delicious pressure, it melted her being. He felt so good against her, she couldn’t think of anything else. Just the simple feel of his lips was enough to have heat rush through her in a scorching wave.

The slight burn of his short stubble, his strong arms holding her to him like a treasure, the scent of him, wanton and masculine, made her forget everything…

Made her want more.

But she shouldn’t.

Remember, you wanted to avoid exactly this?

“Richard—” she tried, mumbling against his lips.

“Hmmm?” he responded, never taking his lips from hers.

“We can’t do this, Richard,” she said. “I told you…”

“But you want to.” He brushed his knuckles against her skin. “Fiancée…”

The sound of music came from behind the French doors. Just a few steps, and someone could come out. And then she would really need to marry him, and that would ruin any chance of building a proper school in Whitechapel.

“That’s exactly it. I’m not your fiancée. We’re just pretending, lying to the world, but we both know we’re not going to marry.”

His eyes became so intense, and a shiver ran through her. His gaze dropped to her lips and then lower. “That doesn’t have to stop us from enjoying each other’s company.”

She shook her head and wriggled out of his embrace, walking away from him and into the darkness of the garden. The fire from the garden torch illuminated his tall, muscular figure clad in the clothes of a gentleman.

“I don’t want to fall for your charms. If anyone comes through that door”—she pointed to the doors behind which ladies and gentlemen danced and mingled—“you will be forced to do something you don’t want to do…marry me.”

He stiffened and his gaze shifted, the corners of his eyes tightening in an expression of pain. His lips parted but no sound emerged.

Shock washed over Jane. There was someone!