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All fair points, but the protest in her voice was weak.
“Yes.” He continued to move his fingers gently through her hair, and she melted a little more. “I promised my mother I would spend the holidays with her.”
She let out a breath. “Oh, she is still alive, then.”
Rafe tilted his head. “You thought otherwise?”
“I had wondered,” she admitted, and bowed her head shyly. “The viscountess told me a little about your past.”
“Ah. Well, I guess that saves me the trouble, then,” he said with a lightness he didn’t feel. Now she would let him down gently. Explain why a raconteur like him wasn’t for her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, meeting his gaze. “It’s rude to gossip about people.”
Rafe shrugged. “I’d be more surprised if you hadn’t. It’s a terribly old story anyway,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“That shouldn’t matter,” she insisted. “It is yourlife. I’m glad to know you have her.”
His breath caught at her tender words. The scandal of his parents’ marriage had always followed him. People felt entitled to comment on it. Rafe had never once considered whether they shouldn’t.
“And I’m sorry if this is too forward,” she continued. “But I think it is absolutely abominable the way your siblings have treated you.”
Rafe blinked as he absorbed her words. Aside from his closest friends, no one had ever said such a thing before. Most of society understood Gerard’s actions because they would have done the same in his position. Whether it was right or fair was entirely inconsequential.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
What would the dowager countess make of this sharp-eyed country girl harboring subversive opinions? Who freely defended her only son? The corner of his mouth lifted. She would probablyadoreMiss Sparrow. He owed her a letter anyway, and now knew the subject.
“So, this is all we have, then,” she said glumly.
Rafe longed to say otherwise, but he didn’t belong entirely to himself at the moment. Duty came first.
“For now. But I could write to you, while we’re both away,” he suggested. “I’m an excellent correspondent.”
By the time she returned, this business with Wardale would be settled. He might even have a new position, if he found this damned mole.
You could have more power than any man downstairs. More than your own brother.
And then he could tell her the truth. That he wasn’t just a feckless rogue with a scandalous reputation but a man who could offer her a real future.
“You shouldn’t say such things,” she murmured. “Not unless you mean them.”
“I agree.”
Miss Sparrow stared at him in silence, then leaned forward as if to stand. Rafe began to move back, but she slid her arms around his neck. Her eyes widened, as if she were as surprised by the movement as he was, but then they darkened, burning with the same desire pulsing through him.
He raised an eyebrow. “Why, Miss Sparrow, are you trying to compromise my virtue?”
Her gaze searched his as her rapid inhalations filled his ears. “Only a little.”
“Well, then,” he said with a grin as he wrapped his arm around her waist. “I suppose I can allow that.” He untangled his hand from her hair and slowly stroked down her jawline, tilting her chin up. “Just be gentle with me.”
She moved closer until their mouths were a hairbreadth away. “I’ll try.” Then, without another word, she eagerly pressed her lips to his. The scalding kiss held the weight of every look, every word, and every touch that had passed between them these last weeks. Then her plump lips parted, and the soft velvet of her tongue slid against his. Her enthusiasm was a particularly delicious surprise, and it took Rafe a moment to realize that low moan was coming from him. He pulled away abruptly, but the daring glint burning in Miss Sparrow’s eyes only inflamed him more.
“My God,” he muttered. Rafe pressed his palm to the side of her head and ran his thumb over her bottom lip, red and swollen as a ripe berry. A fresh wave of hunger broke over him, and he pressed his mouth to hers again, entirely at the mercy of his own desire. This time she thrust both hands in his hair, pulling him even closer, until all space between them was extinguished, until he could feel the soft curves hidden beneath her fine gown and count the beats of her racing heart. Rafe groaned in frustration and grazed his mouth down along the smooth column of her neck until he could rake his teeth against the delicate skin of her collarbone as a sudden, wild urge came over him. He would give anything to strip her bare right then, to drag his tongue over every exposed inch of skin, but now was hardly the time. After a few more agonizingly slow, deep kisses, he wrenched himself away again.
Miss Sparrow blinked up at him. “You stopped,” she panted.
Rafe pursed his lips. He would have to be the responsible one this time. “This is me trying to be a better man,” he said with all the gravitas he could muster. “It isn’t safe for you. If someone were to come in…”
