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“Not with you, Lord Yeatman.” She realised how firm her voice was and how close they were standing, but she didn’t care. She was still not moving away. “You have no effect on me.” She was aware she was lying, but she was speaking with pride at this moment, irked to think she would risk her reputation for the sake of knowing him better.
“None?” he asked, his expression one of sadness and anger. “None at all?”
“Nothing.”
“Not even when I do this?” he asked and took her hand. She left her hand in his grasp, ignoring the tingles.
“No,” she said, lying through gritted teeth.
“Or how about when I do this?” he asked and moved toward her.
Annie was so unprepared for it, she stumbled back a step, feeling Lord Yeatman’s lips collide with her own in a kiss. The warmth spread through her at once, even more so when she felt his fingers intertwine with her own. Any fears she might have had or the pride she felt in trying to argue with him, vanished.
All she could think of was that kiss, and she kissed him back.
His lips were soft and yet firm too under her kiss, making the moment intense, until a twig broke somewhere under a person’s foot in the distance of the garden, and they broke apart from each other.
Annie breathed heavily, staring at Lord Yeatman, amazed at what had happened.
“No effect?” he asked, heaving, clearly seeking an answer.
Annie backed up, understanding what she had done. Had anyone seen them, then she would have been seen not only kissing a man, but a known rake.
“I….” She didn’t finish the sentence. She turned and fled, running back to the tea party as quickly as she could.
