Page 17 of Sin and Serendipity

With a growl, she snatched up the clippers from the basket and strode to the rose bushes, frustration prickling along her skin. She was in love with Freddy, and yet she’d never dreamed of him, not once.

Why, then, had she dreamed of his brother?

Oh, it was all so confusing! Not for the first time, Ellie wished her sister, Evie, was here to help her make sense of things, and perhaps provide a logical explanation for why she couldn’t stop thinking about Robert, about their conversation at the gallery, everything he told her about himself and his family, and the way his eyes warmed when he spoke of them.

She wanted Evie to explain to her how one man could own her thoughts so completely while another man owned her heart. None of it made any sense. Clearly her mind was befuddled, and the only thing she could think to do now was stay far away from Robert—Lord Darrington, blast it—and redouble her efforts at winning Freddy’s heart.

The dinner tonight would be an intimate one with only a dozen or so guests in attendance, so there was bound to be ample opportunity for her to steal a few minutes alone with him. She would have to be vigilant and alert and brave, but it would be worth it. Freddy was worth it.

If only his brother would leave her be, both in life and in dreams.

“Good afternoon, Ellie.”

Her head snapped up and she stared, slack-jawed, as Robert walked toward her, a friendly smile curling his lips. The same lips that had kissed every inch of her naked body last night in her dream.

“Lord Darrington,” she croaked, cheeks blazing. “What are you doing here?”

“Your mother sent me,” he said, holding a basket aloft. “She thought you might need another of these for the flowers.”

Ellie returned to her work, snipping another rose and laying it in the basket. “Our dining room is going to look like a hothouse by the time she’s finished with it,” she grumbled, doing her best to banish the memory of Robert’s strong, warm hands from her mind.

Collect yourself. It was only a dream.

“I had the same thought,” he said, chuckling, “although I suspect there was an ulterior motive in sending me out here.”

“Ulterior motive?” she asked mildly, though she already knew what he was about to say.

“Matchmaking, I’m afraid. My mother is guilty of it, too. One of us really should tell them they have the wrong brother in mind.”

Ellie smiled wanly but made no reply, still avoiding his gaze.

“Are you unwell, Miss Wrencroft? You seem out of sorts.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I...have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Robert was silent as he set his basket on the ground. He reached out and took hers from her arm before looping it over his. “Is it about Freddy?”

His tone was gentle, as if he cared about her answer, as if he cared about her, and for some reason this incensed her.

“No,” she said curtly, punctuating the word with another snip of her clippers. “It isn’t Freddy.”

“Then what is it?”

“I would rather not talk about it, thank you.”

“I’m told I’m a good listener,” he said cajolingly. “You might feel better if—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake! It’s you, all right?” She thrust the clippers into the basket and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring up at him. “It’s you. I’m confused and frustrated and last night I dreamed—”

She snapped her jaw shut, frustration burning like fever as her gaze swept over his face, soaking up his steady, curious eyes, his strong cheekbones, his firm mouth with the enticingly full bottom lip…

And before she knew what she was doing, she was up on her toes and pressing her lips to his. Three heart-stopping seconds passed before she realized what her lips were up to, and she broke away with a horrified gasp.

“Oh, m-my Lord,” she sputtered. “I’m so sorry, Robert. I—”

The basket of roses hit the ground, silencing her words. And then his hands were at her hips, and he was tugging her close, his mouth swooping down to claim hers.

Ellie’s eyes fell closed as she met his kiss, pleasure prickling her skin. Sweet heavens. His lips were warm, coaxing, and he tasted like cinnamon and honey. She tasted frustration, too—and lust, unmistakable, even to an inexperienced girl like her. She called to it, slipping her arms around his neck, slipping free of her reservations as she boldly molded her mouth to his.