This was all madness anyway—she hadn't even seen his face. "Scot, if it's any consolation, I'm behaving completely out of character as well."

"Then what do you say we figure this out afterward?" He curled his fingers under her chin. "There's no reason for me no' to be kissin' you senseless right now."

Senseless?Part of her wanted him to render her senseless, to make her pant, while another part of her still couldn't believe any of this was happening. As he drew in, her eyelids eased closed….

His lips were warm and firm as he grazed them against hers, and that mere coaxing contact made heat race through her. When she parted her lips for him, he slipped his tongue in to slowly stroke hers. Never had she experienced anything so blatantly erotic as how his tongue flicked and teased.

Never had she felt such an awareness that kissing like this was meant to be a prelude to sex.

She found herself lapping back—which doubled the sensations. He clutched her closer, groaning into the kiss, deepening it. She squeezed his shoulders, reveling in the power she felt in his muscles. She craved it, wanted his strength, wanted his arms around her.

Their tongues twined again and again, sending her to heights of need she'd never imagined. He must be feeling it, too—he adjusted her on his lap, groaning when his thick erection pressed fully against her bottom. She swore she felt the heat of it even through their clothes and couldn't help but imagine stroking it in her palm. In all her fantasies, she'd never dreamed of howhot it would be. She wriggled in his lap….

He drew back, gazing down at her as though in shock, his lips parted, breaths ragged.

"I-I never much liked kissing before," she whispered, aware that she was, indeed, panting.

Brows drawn, he rasped, "Aye, me neither."

She whimpered, needing more. He cursed in answer. They both set in again.

He leaned her back against his unyielding arm so he could take her more thoroughly, slanting his lips over and over until she felt boneless and unguarded.Senseless… She moaned against his lips.

But he broke away again, appearing wary. "That was…that…"His eyes narrowed. "You keep kissing me like that, and this night will be over before it begins."

He was obviously so worldly and experienced, and yet she'd still pleased him. He continued to please her. She was excited, for some reason happier than she'd been in months. "Scot," she murmured, threading her fingers into his thick hair, "I'm glad I invited you on my escape."

"Already, I'm verra glad to be here."

It suddenly struck her as miserably unfair that her husband wouldn't be someone like this god who held her, who set her afire with every clever flick of his tongue.

But what if she could gethim to marry her?

True, she still hadn't seen his face—and she didn't know his name. But to be fair, she could probably go out on a limb and guess that the Scot hadn't been widowed three times. And to be fair, shehad seen the count's face.

Between this man's fierce kisses, her irresistible attraction to him—and a good deal of the decidedly potent punch—this struck her as abrilliant solution to her problem. "Scot, I don't suppose you're rich and looking for a wife?"

"One out of two. I'll never marry."

"Never, never? Or do you mean not until after a few years more of bachelorhood?"

"Never." He was emphatic, seeming irritated by the mere subject.

"Oh. Well, I really can't be going home with you," she said, just as the carriage rolled to a stop. He set her on the bench and opened his door—in front of an imposing red-brick mansion.

"Where are we?" she asked in confusion.

"In Grosvenor Square."

"Thisis your home?" she said, without looking away. It was grand and bigger even than Quin's! White columns proudly stood sentinel alongside wide marble steps. Pristine gardens were generously illuminated with hidden gaslights.

"Aye, my home."

She quirked an eyebrow. She could easily imagine herself as mistress of it.

When he reached for her hand, she said, "Wait! I can't just go in with you like this!" Though she was dying to see the inside.

"We had a deal."

"But not to go home with you!" They weren't that far from the Weylands'. What if someone saw her?

"This idea really bothers you?" When she nodded, he leaned out and commanded, "Drive," before shutting his door. The carriage rolled on once more. "Matters naught. I can take you in here as well as I can in a bed."

"Take me?" Her eyes went wide. "I thought the bargain was only to touch."

He pulled her into his lap again, his big hand resting on her hip with casual familiarity, as if they'd sat like this a hundred times. "Just trust me. I'll make it good for you. You'll have much diary fodder," he said with a hint of a grin.

"You can have me, Scot. Completely. By noon tomorrow. That will give me enough time to skim over your account books, and for you to get a special license. We can be wed before lunch."

He grasped her chin. "Understand, lass, that nothing on earth will move me to marry.Nothing ."

When she realized he was just like Quin, her heart sank. "I understand." Unfortunately, she did and perfectly well—this was the second time today she'd heard that same sentiment, the second time she'd been turned down flat. Some men just weren't the marrying kind, no matter how much theyshould be.

Which meant girls like her picked through the leftovers of gouty old counts.

"Make sure that you do," he said, warning clear in his tone.

She absently nodded. At every turn tonight, she'd had her decision to marry Le Daex reinforced, but she shuddered to imagine the man heaving and grunting over her as he took her virginity. She, who adored beautiful men, wouldn't lose her virtue to one. Yes, it was unfair, and suddenly—or, after the liquor and the Scot's firm lips—it was intolerable.

She'd weathered misery after misery since her father had been shot, heaped on her as though by a cosmic jest. Like an animal caught in a snare, the more she struggled, the worse it seemed to get. She expected so little in return for her constant sacrifices, but this one aspect of her life—deciding who would introduce her to lovemaking—she could control. And her instincts were screaming that she could trust this mysterious stranger.

She nibbled her lip. Le Daex could be fooled to think she was untouched. Maddy's landlady and best friend in Paris had been a virgin at all three of her weddings….

The Scot had told Maddy he'd be inside her tonight.

At that moment, she realized he was right.

"Very well."

"Verra well, what?"

"If you wanted more…" She could feel him instantly pulsing harder beneath her.

"You're…you want me tae take you," he rasped, but it sounded like a question.

"Yes. I want more than the terms of our bargain," she murmured. "I want you."To show me this…to give me this night to secretly treasure.

"What has changed your mind?"

She sighed. "My reasons are my own, Scot. Do you care anyway?"

He smirked, flashing white teeth. "No' in the least."

"So, um, in light of this, don't you think we should take off our masks?" she asked.

"It adds something, do you no' think?" He skimmed the backs of his fingers against her cheek under her mask.

She wasn't shy by any means, but this was her first real encounter, and she had concerns about the desirability of her sparse frame. In other words, her breasts were small. The mask would help conceal heated blushes, and it suited her fine. Especially since this would be just one night—a single night of mystery and need. And then of endings. "Yes, I suppose it does."

But he wasn't listening, appearing captivated as his fingers glided over the line of her jaw. "So delicate," he said absently, seeming not to realize he'd spoken aloud. Somehow she knew this wasn't a mere seduction. He was exploring her, his eyes dark with curiosity. "I've no' had a woman like you before."