Page 14 of Wynter's Bite

His lips arched in a wicked smile. “How was the experience?”

“Incredible,” she couldn’t stop herself from answering. “So much more than what the novels depict.”

His grin broadened, tempting beyond reason. “That tempts me to do it again.”

She leaned toward him and he chuckled low.

“No, I must remain honorable.” He rose from the bench. “I will go out that way, you go the way we came in and immerse yourself with the crowd. With luck, no one will have discovered you missing.” Taking her hand, he brushed his lips across her knuckles. The feel of his mouth through the satin of her gloves a poor substitute to his previous kiss. “I will see you again soon.”

Before she could reply, he vanished deeper into the garden with nary a rustle.

Heaving a sigh, Bethany closed her eyes and relived the kiss in her mind. Never before had she imagined it would be so potent, so magical.

Her practical side tried to remind her that Lord de Wynter was a rake, and thus kisses meant nothing to one such as him, but her whimsical side refused to listen.

After all, did he speak with other women about his love of books? Somehow, she doubted it. Because if he already had literate lady loves, he would never have bothered to speak with a debutante like her. Not that the thought of him having lady loves didn’t make her stomach churn with discomfort.

No. Her chin lifted. They’d shared something special. She was certain of it.

He’d even told her that he’d see her again soon.

Perhaps that meant that he’d call upon her tomorrow!

Bethany had to clap a hand over her mouth to suppress a giddy sigh. Although she would have preferred to linger here in the shadowed garden, basking in the bliss of Justus’s kiss, her mother was bound to be looking for her.

With utmost reluctance, she rose from the bench and left the garden, pausing only to pluck a rose to mark the memory of this night.

The fireworks continued to erupt in the sky, the loud booms and bright flashes of color echoing the brilliant light and pounding in her heart.

Bethany found her mother easily. Lady Wickshire’s garish puce hat adorned with green feathers bobbed up and down as she spoke with Lady Bentley, the mother of a young heir to an Earldom. The boy had shown no interest in Bethany when they’d been introduced, instead making eyes at Rebecca.

Boy. Bethany smirked at the word. The heir had to be two or three years her elder, but nearly all gentlemen she’d met appeared to be boys compared to Justus.

“There you are!” Lady Wickshire interrupted Bethany’s reverie. “Where have you been?”

“I was circulating amongst the guests, making small talk so as not to look a wallflower.” The lie flowed through easily. “Just as you advised me.”

Cecily nodded in satisfaction. “Such an obedient girl. You’ll make a wonderful wife to some fortunate gentleman.” She then hammered the point home. “I was just talking with Lady Bentley and she has invited us to watch the annual cricket game at Newton Hall next Saturday. Won’t that be splendid?”

“Yes, indeed.” Only if Justus will be there.

Bethany struggled to pay attention to her mother’s chatter, but her mind refused to cease incessantly wandering to the subject of a certain red-haired rake. A rake who possessed an incredible talent in kissing and impeccable taste in literature. How kind he was to have loaned her a book. She must endeavor to return the favor.

She’d read The Italian by Ann Radcliffe on the carriage ride to Rochester and quite enjoyed it. Gothic stories were nearly as engrossing as medieval tales. Perhaps Justus would like it. Unless he was the sort who refused to read novels written by women. No, those men never deigned to discuss novels with women, much less debutantes such as herself.

Yet Justus was different. He expressed concern and interest in her literary opinions.

As the guests watched the illuminations, Bethany searched the throng for Justus, but she didn’t spot him until she and her parents were departing for the evening. Tamping down regret that she didn’t have the opportunity to speak with him before leaving, she basked in the secret smile he cast her way.

The remainder of the night and next day, Bethany searched her book collection for a novel to loan him, and then spent hours sifting through her wardrobe for something to wear when he came to call on her.

By the time morning visiting hours were officially underway, Bethany had to invoke every ounce of her fortitude to avoid dashing to the window every time she heard a carriage roll up the drive.

A few matrons called upon her mother, and even a few gentleman. One that looked too young to shave, the other older than her father. Their elderly neighbor, Lord Tench even stopped by for a visit.

Justus never came.

A lump rose to her throat. She’d been so certain that there was something special between them. Apparently, she was wrong. Their kiss had been nothing but a diversion to him.

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