Page 9 of From Rakes to Riches

A church clock struck somewhere in the darkness, tolling away their precious time. Gemma longed to remain here on the terrace all night, safe in this quiet place, with Guy gazing at her in silent regard.

She let out a small sigh. “You ought to return for your pledged dance.”

Guy glanced quickly away from her, over the terrace to the park beyond. Was he disappointed she was sending him away? Or simply girding himself for the dreaded dance?

When he turned back, his eyes held bleakness, his frivolous smile gone. “Wish me luck?” He stuck out his hand.

Gemma gladly took it, and they shared a mannish, friendly handshake.

She did not know where the next impulse came from. One moment, she was sensible Gemma, saying farewell to an acquaintance. In the next, a wicked, impetuous woman rose from her depths.

She kept hold of Guy’s hand, tugged him closer, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

The muscle in his jaw jumped under her lips, his skin smooth, warm, bristles of his emerging whiskers pleasantly scratching. He smelled of soap and the perspiration from their dance, a male musk Gemma hadn’t scented in a long while. A fire built in her heart, a spark, long suppressed, awakening.

“For luck,” she whispered as she drew away.

Guy studied her. A darkness flickered in his eyes, one that wiped away the quips and flirtation. The carefree bachelor who never spoke a serious sentence was a façade, she saw. A deeper man lurked behind it, one he covered with his curtain of frivolity.

A cool breeze stirred Gemma’s hair. Before she could suggest they retreat indoors, Guy’s heavy hand touched her shoulder.

With a strength she did not want to resist, Guy tugged her to him and kissed her parted lips.

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Some part of Guy cursed him for his impulse, but that voice was drowned by the flood of satisfaction inside him.

Gemma’s lips were soft, silken, parting for him, and at the same time hesitant. She tasted of warmth, excitement, all the things Guy loved.

He touched her cheek, thumb caressing, the only point of contact between them. That is, until Gemma rested a hand on his waist, firm through the layers of his costume.

Imagining that hand on his bare flesh made Guy harden, until he worried about exactly how much of the doublet covered him below the waist.

Gemma’s lips moved beneath his, and flame stirred in his blood. She smelled of roses, fresh and sweet. Her breath on his cheek, a sigh where she’d pressed a kiss, heated him through.

When she drew back, Guy made a noise in his throat, reluctant to let her go. He forced himself to place his hand on hers and lift it from his side.

“Forgive me,” she whispered.

Forgiveher? Guy had fallen upon her mouth like a lovesick fool and kissed her as though they’d been lovers for years, and she wantedhimto forgiveher.

He cleared his throat. “My dear, you delight me.” He wanted nothing more than to kiss her again, but he became aware of the light and noise outside their haven of darkness, dancers floating only yards away inside the ballroom. “But we should return before someone stumbles out here and forms the wrong impression.”

Gemma’s eyes glittered in the dim light. “They already have the wrong impression of me.”

The words were bitter, making Guy long to hold her again, to soothe her and tell her he would protect her now.

Which would be the entirely wrong thing to say. Gemma didn’t need a protector, not in the lover sense of the word, but a friend.

He stood up, which took all his strength, and held out his arm. “Shall we dance back inside, pretending we stood here a moment for a breath of air?”

“I think we had better.” Gemma rose with every show of reluctance. “Though I am supposed to have hurt my foot.”

Guy tucked her arm through his. “We will pretend it is better—a temporary injury. Never fear for your reputation, my dear. Everyone knows me for a frivolous chap, excruciatingly polite to the ladies and keeping my vices away from virtuous society balls. Though I happen to know that several of the matrons present are enjoying themselves with gentlemen who are attending this ball with their wives and daughters. Are any of thehaut tonvirtuous, I wonder?”

Gemma tilted her head to study him as he babbled his nonsense. “Doyouhave so many vices, Lord Guy?”

Something dark stirred inside him, as though the years he’d frittered away trying to forget friends lost on the battlefieldand his family’s conviction that he was a useless second son converged into a pool of regret.

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