Page 52 of One Night with an Earl

He offered his arm, and she placed her hand on his sleeve. With one last glance inside at the plants, she let him lead her back on the path to the bench she’d first occupied. He sat beside her, his thigh brushing her skirts. Heat emanated from him, and his familiar cologne was more drugging than the flowers.

Only a small amount of water remained in the glass. She poured a good amount from the bottle and handed it to him. It would be strong. “Drink.”

He sipped the glass, then raised an eyebrow. “Anise.”

“Many dilute the drink with water.”

“Not you?”

“I started with water in the glass but finished it. Besides, I enjoy the full flavor.”

“Why am I not surprised? You are not fully English?”

Even with the liquor flowing in her veins, she knew this was not going the way she’d wanted. How to answer without revealing too much? She was a bad liar when confronted face-to-face, and she knew the best way to convince him was to reveal only part of the truth. “My great-grandmother was from Lebanon.”

Truth. She didn’t need to tell him her mother and grandmother were from there as well. Or that they also had Armenian and Arabian blood, and that her mother often accompanied her father as he traveled throughout the Middle East in search of antiquities.

Oliver gave a quick nod. “I suspected as much.”

He was too perceptive, too intelligent, and she knew better than to ask how he knew. Inquiring opened herself up to more questions—questions she did not wish to answer.

He sipped from the glass. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“About my great-grandmother?”

“No. About your accommodations here.”

She bit her lip. How had she lost her train of thought? “Appearances are important.”

“I told you I would never reveal anything to Lord and Lady Malvern about our past. Do you trust me?”

A cloud shifted, and she was able to see his face beneath the full moonlight. He was so handsome that he could steal her reason if she wasn’t careful. “Yes, I trust you not to speak with Lady Malvern.”

“Then why the concern?”

“Because you placed me in a bedchamber suitable for an honored guest, not a chaperone. It is a room for a lady.” She lowered her voice as if others were present to hear. “Or a room for lovers.”

“Ah, and is that so bad?”

When he looked at her like that, it wasn’t bad at all. When had he shifted even closer?

“I spoke with Madame Crescent.” She felt compelled to tell him.

“Oh?”

“She confirmed you returned to see her the day after…our evening together.”

“I told you I returned to the Silver Chalice looking for you. What else did she say?”

She hesitated, her face heating from the arak and more. “That I must make the decision on my own if we should indulge in more than one night of pleasure.”

His eyes darkened, and he inched closer. “A very wise woman. What did you tell her in return?”

She hadn’t told the madame anything. But her decision had been on her mind, and with Oliver so close with a hint of anise on his breath, her inhibitions seemed far, far away.

“I did not have an answer. But I am sure of one thing. Something the arak gives me to courage to admit.”

His eyes were fierce. “Which is?”