Page 29 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

Each time she closed her eyes, the memory returned with vivid clarity.

She remembered the warmth of his mouth, the deliberate care of his touch, and the slow, devastating patience with which he had drawn her into something she had never experienced and could not now forget.

Darcy lifted her hand to her lips, pressing her fingers lightly against them, as though she might remove the sensation that lingered there.

It only sharpened the recollection. A soft, unsteady breath left her as she turned onto her back, staring up into the darkness, her heart still beating far too quickly, her body far too aware. How was it possible that not one moment, but a handful of fleeting exchanges, could alter her so completely?

Each kiss had been different, and each had awakened something new.

She possessed no understanding for what had awakened within her. Darcy turned onto her side once more, drawing her knees slightly inward, her fingers curling into the linen as though seeking purchase. His voice lingered in her mind. The way he had spoken her assumed name, “Red,” as though it belonged to him alone.

“How absurd that I cannot drive you from my thoughts,” she whispered into the stillness of the room.

Darcy squeezed her eyes shut, willing the thoughts away, yet they clung stubbornly, refusing to be dismissed. Sleep did not come easily. When at last it claimed her, it was shallow and uncertain, her dreams troubled by dark blue eyes and the lingering certainty that she would not soon forget his kiss.

Darcy had just reached the middle of a passage in Sense and Sensibility, her attention absorbed in Elinor’s quiet endurance, when the soft strains of the pianoforte drifted through the room behind her. Emelia’s touch was light, thoughtful, each note placed with gentle precision.

Across the room, Jane and Sarah stood pressed near the window, their heads bent close together in conspiratorial delight.

“I am certain she has just eloped,” Sarah whispered, peering intently at a passing carriage. “Her gown is so lovely.”

“Nonsense,” Jane returned, equally intent. “She is going to a ball, and that gentleman is her secret admirer. You may tell by the manner in which he handed her into the carriage.”

“I do not believe people attend balls so early. It is scarcely six o’clock.”

Jane wrinkled her nose. “Are we quite certain there are no assemblies or entertainments at such an hour?”

“We have very little knowledge of high society,” Sarah conceded.

“One day we shall know everything,” Jane said with quiet conviction. “And we shall attend grand balls in the most beautiful gowns and arrive in splendid carriages!”

Darcy’s heart tightened. She had often heard their hopeful speculations of the future, each one filled with a lightness that felt at once beautiful and fragile. They spoke of belonging within society, of being received, of their brother taking a deeper interest in their lives and securing their place within his world. Darcy knew she ought to temper such expectations, to make them understand that, as illegitimate daughters, society would never grant them the same standing or reception afforded the earl and other ladies of quality.

Yet she could not bring herself to do it. She could not bear to see that understanding dawn in their eyes, nor the quiet heartbreak that would surely follow. Only Emelia fully understood the circumstances of their birth, and even she did not yet seem to grasp their full consequence.

Jane sighed softly. “Perhaps he is taking her home to meet his family.”

Sarah gasped. “Then perhaps they shall marry by the end of the week.”

Darcy smiled faintly at their fanciful imaginings, though her eyes remained upon the page. The quiet domesticity of the moment, so simple and undisturbed, wrapped about her like a gentle reprieve. Then Jane gasped, this time with far greater force than her sister.

“Darcy,” she hissed, turning sharply from the window, her eyes wide with astonishment. “Darcy, he is here. What should we do?”

Darcy’s attention snapped at once from the page. “Who is here?”

“The earl is here!”

The book slipped from her fingers, falling forgotten upon her lap as heat rushed unbidden to her cheeks. It was too soon. Only last evening, his lips had been upon hers, and she had been carried away by a sensation so consuming it had left her altered. How was she to stand before him now with any semblance of composure? How was she to conceal the intimate and dangerous knowledge she now possessed?

“Are you certain it is Lord Raine?”

“Yes! He has just stepped from the most handsome carriage I have ever seen,” Jane said in a breathless rush. “He is coming to the door. Oh, he is coming inside!”

A flurry of motion followed. Emelia abandoned the pianoforte at once, rising so quickly she almost stumbled. Sarah darted from the window, her small hands already smoothing at her skirts.

Jane seized Sarah’s arm. “Come, sit. No, stand. Oh, what are we to do?”

“Compose yourselves,” Darcy managed, though her own heart had begun to pound with alarming force.