Agitated over the current war Napoleon had enforced upon them, Lady Ellie stepped back from Ashten and followed the gravel path past a pink flowering bush toward the gazebo in the corner. The gazebo stood supremely elegant, painted a splendid white with ivy climbing one side and a white rose bush the other. She grasped her skirts and walked up the two steps then eased down onto the bench rimming the side. She rearranged her skirts and tugged the sides of Ashten’s jacket more firmly at the front. “What of Wellington?”

“Wellington continues to hold onto the hope that Emperor Alexander the First won’t stand aside and allow Russia to remain in chaos. The moment Alexander chooses to change his country’s foreign policy and join with us again, Wellington will be there to stand beside him and ensure Napoleon is halted in his endeavors to take over all of Europe.” Ashten sat on the bench next to her, tucked his cane under the bench and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “Are you still cold?”

“Less so now.” Goodness, she feared for her brother fighting across the English Channel. “This all means more warring and an inevitable loss of life. Harry will fight to the death to ensure our protection, that those of us here in England remain safe and well.”

“All our men will fight, and they won’t stop until Napoleon surrenders and this war is done.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re shaking.”

“Because I need to tell you something of a personal nature, and I need for you to listen to me.”

“I’d rather you didn’t have any need to speak to me at all.” He removed his arm from her shoulders and frowned at his hands. “I do apologize. I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries between us, only the more I’m around you, the more I forget myself.”

“You can forget yourself around me as often as you please.”

“That sounded rather brazen, Ellie.”

“Maybe it’s time for a little brazen between us.”

“I have no need for a wife.” He shook his head. “We had this conversation during your last visit.”

“Yes, and I’m well aware you’ve no desire for that wife to be me.” She tried to give him her most condescending look, only she likely failed since he arched his brow in that way he did when he saw right through her.

“I’ve taken mistresses in the past,” he blurted, “and they satisfy any demands I have quite nicely.”

“Ashten!” Heat flared in her cheeks, and although she should remain quiet, she also couldn’t help but appreciate Ashten’s current honesty with her. “What I mean is, ah, are all men who don’t wish to take a wife inclined to feel that way? That they could simply take a mistress to satisfy their body’s demands?”

“No, not all men feel that way.” His gaze narrowed, the piercing blue darkening to a midnight shade.

“I’ve kissed only two men,” she blurted this time.

“Who? Wait.” He held up a hand. “No, don’t tell me.”

“I would have only kissed one man, other than for the fact that I needed to know if the first man was any good at kissing, so I kissed the second man to be sure.”

“And your decision on those kisses?”

“I truly didn’t care for either of them. I thought kissing would be more enchanting, or at least leaving me with the desire for more than a single kiss, to wish for a second or a third with the same gentleman.”

“They obviously kissed you respectfully.”

“There are two ways to kiss someone?”

“Yes, there certainly is.”

“How intriguing, although I can hardly ask a man to kiss me, ah, without respect, so I might learn the difference.”

“How does your brother deal with you?” He shook his head and blew out a long breath.

“With great entertainment.” She couldn’t help her giggle.

“Let me show you what a disrespectful kiss is then.” He held out his hand then arched a brow. “Put your hand in mine, and I’ll take that as a yes of your acceptance.”

“You’ll truly kiss me? Disrespectfully?” She’d always wished for such a moment as this, and since this might be the only opportunity she ever had, she placed her gloved hand in his and showed her ready acceptance with her actions.

“You are far too trusting.”

“You would never hurt me.”

“Let’s hope not.” Gently, he turned her hand over and finger by finger, tugged on the soft silk until he’d removed her glove then done, dropped it onto the bench beside him and brought her palm to his mouth. With one warm and incredibly soft kiss against her skin, the midnight blue of his eyes twinkling bright, he asked, “Are you ready?”

“Is there anything I need to do during this disrespectful kiss?”

“No, not a thing.” As the opening notes of a waltz floated toward them from the ballroom, he rose and drew her to her feet, then slowly, carefully, he pulled her into his arms.

“I can’t believe we’re about to dance.”

“And kiss.”

“Yes, that too.” She placed her gloved hand on his shoulder, her ungloved hand still held firm in his. Never had she ever danced this close to a gentleman before. Six inches was the required etiquette, and there was less than three inches between them right now. “You look dashing, as if you’ve dressed for this ball tonight, then chose to remain indoors.”

“Since we’re being honest, I was extremely tempted to come.” He swept her around the inner circle of his gazebo, his hand firm on her waist and his limp barely noticeable. “Did you have to dance”—he cleared his gruff throat—“with quite so many men tonight?”

“Yes, but I much prefer dancing here with you right now.” Her legs wobbled. Was Ashten truly going to kiss her? Perhaps he was simply testing her, to see if she really did have a suitor she intended on eloping with. If he was, then she’d have to take great care.

“There’s an allure to a disrespectful kiss. Do you want to know what it is?” He leaned in closer, his breath whispering across her lips.

“Tell me.” She sucked in a breath, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

“It’s called the danger that awaits with the conclusion of that kiss. Does one simply stop, or does one continue with a second disrespectful kiss?”

Ashen barely held his restraint in check. From the second he’d stepped inside the gazebo with Ellie, he’d known he’d be holding her in his arms before he could allow her to leave. She’d captivated him tonight, as well as sent every sound and reasonable thought disappearing right from his head. “Are you ready?” he asked her, far beyond ready himself.

“I am.” She swiped her tongue across her lips and dampened them in the way a woman did right before she wished to be kissed, and her golden eyes, they shimmered all bright and beautiful, her hand trembling in his. “Please, Ashten, kiss me.”

Never had he felt so alive as he did in this moment. Over the years, he’d taken the odd mistress or casual lover wherever possible, women who’d always held golden tresses and pouty lips, only not one of his lovers had ever been her—Lady Ellie Marie Trentbury. Never would they be either.

He lowered his head and unable to hold back a second longer, covered her mouth with his and kissed her, just as he’d always wished to kiss her. He licked across the seam of her lips and when she gasped, he slipped his tongue between those delectable lips and stroked across her tongue. “Come closer,” he murmured against her lips.

“We’re already quite close.” Although she arched her back and pressed her breasts firmer into his chest, her breath mingling so seductively with his.

“That’s perfect.” Gently, he sucked on her indecently full lower lip then indulged in his desires and kissed her deeper.

“Oh my.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders and his passion rose powerfully, just as hers did too. “I can’t believe we’re kissing.”

“Neither can I.” He pushed her up against the gazebo wall and hands sliding under the jacket he’d given her, he caressed down her sides and roamed over her lush bottom.

“Ashten?” Her breathing escalated. “I feel so much.”

“Pierce.”

Her wide eyes searched his. “That’s your first name?”

“Yes, Pierce Luke Blackgale.” He’d come into his title early in life and had always been known as Ashten.

She smiled and firmed her grip on his shoulders. “Would you please kiss me again, Pierce?”

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