Page 107

“Vixen,” he breathed.

“Hmmm.” Rather than wait for him, she wedged her knees beside his legs and rose up, high enough to let their bodies separate. Then she laughed at the expression on his face, reached under her skirts, and caught him unerringly in her hand. He was smooth and wet and hot to the touch.

She rubbed him over her folds, which felt so good that she threw back her head and groaned before she slowly, slowly, slid downward, gasping when she had taken him fully. “My earl is so puritanical in public,” she whispered, her breath shuddering. “Wild in private. Though this is arguably public.”

“Look there, Yasmin,” Giles said, nodding to the right.

She turned her head and caught sight of the two of them in the huge gilt mirror that hung over the mantel. Though the glass was hazy with age, she could see her outline, breasts free of her bodice, nipples standing out cherry colored in the glass, hair falling down her back.

Giles was looking at her from under heavy lids, his hands spread on her back. As she watched, he thrust upward again. She let out a groan, her head tipping toward him, her hands tightening on his shoulders to keep her balance.

“Watch,” he whispered.

Yasmin shook her head. “No.”

He stopped moving. “Why?” His tone wasn’t condemnatory, just curious.

“We are in public,” she gasped. “The mirror makes it more so.”

His hips circled, making her take a quick breath. “When we’re married, I’ll take you in every room, in front of every mirror.”

“I prefer a bed,” Yasmin breathed.

Giles’s hands gripped her hips, raising her enough to free their bodies from each other. Then he set her on her feet, allowing her skirts to fall to her slippers. With a few swift motions, he buttoned the fall on his breeches and stuffed his shirt back into his waistband.

Yasmin blinked at him, her mind fogged. Giles scooped her into his arms, striding through the room.

“No!” she said urgently, pulling her bodice up. “Everyone will know. The footmen will know!”

“You are mine,” Giles said evenly, looking down at her.

“Not yet!”

Slowly, he placed her on her feet. “I don’t care what servants think.”

She pulled open the door. Footmen were always stationed in the entry, but there was no one to be seen. Giles caught her around the waist. “May I carry you upstairs in the absence of witnesses?”

Yasmin turned into his arms. Her body was throbbing, and she knew her cheeks were crimson. She wanted nothing more than to go to her bedchamber and fall backward onto her bed, drawing his delicious weight down on top of her.

She snuggled close and put her cheek against his chest. His heart was pounding hard. Desire surged through her, but at the same time . . .

They had to talk.

“Yasmin,” Giles said, his voice taut as a violin string. “Please, may I take you upstairs? Or in a carriage? In the library? The back garden?”

That startled a giggle from her. “It’s beginning to rain!”

“I would make love to you in the rain.”

“Everyone would see us from the back windows.”

“I wouldn’t care. I would pull a blanket over us.”

The expression on his face made her heart thunder and her worries ease away. When Giles looked at her like that, with need and desire and affection in his eyes, she would do anything for him.

She raised her mouth. “Kiss me.”

His mouth descended on hers, a desperate edge making her tremble. She didn’t protest when he swung her into his arms, when he walked up the stairs still kissing her. Walked down the corridor until she pointed at a door.