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"I know. I'm terribly impulsive. But I couldn't wait."
"You look lovely." Rem drank in her elegant white muslin carriage dress, more than a hint of pleasure in his gaze. Her innocent beauty was a wondrous balm after the ugly events of the day.
"And you look dashing." Boldly, she studied his dark trousers, Wellington boots, and striped waistcoat. "A splendid escort."
He chuckled. "Shall we?"
"I suppose we must wait for Millie." Sammy glanced impatiently toward the stairs. "She should be down in a moment."
"I'm ready, my lady." Millie scurried down and curtsied. "Good afternoon, my lord."
"Good afternoon, Millie." Rem turned back to Sammy. "Our chariot awaits."
"Oh, you didn't bring a phaeton!" Sammy sounded ecstatic, for much the reason Boyd had, Rem suspected. In truth, he didn't know why he'd brought the enclosed coach. He'd told himself it was because he would acquire more information from Lady Samantha if there were fewer distractions. Now, feeling the inexorable pull between them, he wondered if he'd been lying to himself.
"It's a lovely evening, Millie. Enjoy the fresh air," Sammy called gaily, gesturing toward the coach's rear outer seat.
"But..." Millie looked flabbergasted. She had no opportunity to elaborate, because Sammy had already climbed into the chariot.
Rem handed Millie up to her designated seat beside the coachmen, before climbing in beside Sammy and ordering his driver to proceed.
He then promptly burst out laughing.
"You are incorrigible; do you know that, imp? Have you any idea how tattered your reputation will be if anyone should realize we are alone in this carriage?" "I don't care." Sammy leaned forward. "I wish to be alone with you."
"And I wish to be alone with you." The words were out before Rem could evaluate them, but he knew immediately that his pleasure had little to do with his mission. Whatever be hoped to learn from Samantha could wait a few minutes. For now he just wanted to immerse himself in her exuberance. "So, did you enjoy your first ball at Almack's?"
"You know I did."
"Any lingering fatigue from your ceaseless night of dancing?"
"None."
"Did any of the gentlemen that comprised your multitude of admirers make an impression on you?" Now why the hell was he asking that?
Sammy shrugged. "A few of them asked to call on me."
"Like Anders?"
Her brows arched in surprise. "Yes, the Viscount Anders did ask if he might call."
"The man is a master at seduction—a noted blackguard with the morals of a snake, and a reputation to equal it."
"Like you, my lord?" Sammy's eyes twinkled.
Rem sucked in his breath. "No... yes. Dammit, Samantha, I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"I won't get hurt, Remington," she replied softly. "I told you—you'll protect me."
Gazing into those trusting eyes, green as a summer meadow, Rem felt his chest constrict. Without thinking, he drew her against him, tunneling his fingers through her thick sable tresses. "What am I going to do with you, imp?"
"I believe you asked me that question, as well. And I answered it."
His eyes gleamed. "So you did. And is the answer still the same?"
"It is."
"Very well. . . kiss me, my beautiful romantic." He caressed the sides of her neck with his thumbs, guided by a need that unfolded with a life of its own. "I can imagine nothing more magnificent than tasting your soft, sweet mouth."
