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good at kissing.”
    Yes, he would. “How old are you?”
    “I recently turned one and twenty.”
    He sucked in a breath. “You were married at seven and ten? Good God, you were a child.”
    “True, I was a child then but I’m a woman now, married four years, yet never kissed. Does that not sound pathetic? I want you to give me my first kiss.”
    He crushed the end of the cheroot on the wall. God save him from himself. “Claire.”
    “Yes?”
    “Come here.”
    Her eyes trained on his, she moved forward, stopping when she reached his knees.
    “Claire.”
    “Yes?”
    He spread his knees. “Two more steps if you want to be kissed. But you should walk away. No. Run. To your room and lock the door. Your choice.”
    Two steps put her between his legs. He was doomed. She leaned against him and placed her glass on the wall next to his. The scent of violets filled the air. If he licked the skin below her ear, would she taste as good as she smelled?
    He held out his hands, palms up. “Place your hands in mine.”
    She did as he asked, and he placed them on the sides of his waist, then cradled her face with his palms.
    “Close your eyes, Claire.”
    Her lashes lowered as he touched his lips to hers. She tasted of berries from the wine, and he had clearly lost his mind.

Chapter Six
    This was how Claire had imagined a kiss—like the soft wings of a butterfly fluttering over her mouth. She sighed in pleasure. Chase groaned and the kiss changed, his mouth descending over hers in a firm and consuming possession.
    Sweet heavens. This she had never dreamed—had never known a kiss could cause her to forget her name or make her legs tremble. She pushed her hands under his shirt, and when her palms touched his heated skin she thought she might swoon for the first time in her life. He wrapped her hair around his fist and gently tugged.
    “Open for me, Claire,” he said against her lips.
    When she opened her mouth to ask what he meant, he slid his tongue inside. If not for his legs pressed against her waist she would have gone down in a boneless heap. She hadn’t known a man’s kiss—this man’s kiss—could sear her down to her toes. His tongue explored the inside of her mouth and she shyly touched her tongue to his. He tasted of brandy and his cheroot. A low noise came from his throat and she grew bolder, teasing him with her tongue while her hands roamed over his chest.
    “Chase,” she whispered.
    Abruptly, he pulled away and let go of her hair. “Go to bed, Claire. You’ve had your kiss and you need to leave now.”
    If his chest wasn’t heaving, she would have thought the kiss hadn’t affected him. She stepped away from the warmth of his legs.
    “Good night, Chase.” She was halfway across the courtyard when he spoke.
    “Claire.”
    She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”
    “Lock your door.”
    Chase picked up his brandy and drained it in one swallow, then picked up the wine she had left behind and finished it. If the lake were closer, he would go and jump in. Perhaps the water would be cold enough to put out the fire in his loins.
    Just one kiss, she said. Ha! Naïve girl. She had almost gotten more than she’d asked for.
    When her tongue touched his and her soft, delicate fingers trailed over his chest, he came close to climaxing like a green boy. If he were in London, he would slip out and go straight to the Pink Slipper. Unfortunately, the only thing available to him tonight was his hand.
    He slid off the wall, picked up the two glasses and returned to his room. He would not kiss her again—would avoid her as much as possible until he could put his plan for her in motion. Resolved and feeling better because of it, he removed his clothing and climbed into bed.
    The taste of Claire lingered on his lips as he fell into a restless sleep.
    ****
    Claire stared at the canopy of her bed and relived the moment Chase’s mouth touched hers. She slid a finger over her lips and smiled. Her first kiss had been beyond