She stayed in his arms, trying to puzzle out what he was going on about. Ah, God, it felt too good to be held, to be touched with such consideration and deliberation. She was wicked, shameless, lost and getting more lost still.

“Say you will forgive me,” the earl rumbled, his hands going quiet. “Men require frequent forgiveness, Anna. This is known to all.”

“You don’t sound sorry,” she muttered, still against his chest.

“A besetting sin of my gender,” and Anna could tell he was teasing—mostly.

“You aren’t truly sorry.” She found the strength to shove away from him but turned out to regard the night rather than face him. “But you have regret over this.”

“I regret,” he said directly above and behind her ear, “that I may have offended you. I regret just as much that we are not now tossing back my lavender-scented sheets in preparation for that passion between consenting adults I mentioned earlier.”

“There will be no more of that,” Anna said, inhaling sharply. “No more mentioning, no more kissing, no more talk of sheets and whatnot.”

“As you wish,” he said, still standing far too close behind her. He was careful not to touch her, but Anna could tell he was inhaling her scent, because she was doing the same with his.

“What I wish is of no moment,” she said, “like the happiness of a future duke. No moment whatsoever.”

He did step back at that, to her relief. Mostly, her relief.

“You have accepted my apology?” he asked, his voice cooling.

“I have.”

“And you won’t be resigning or disappearing without notice?”

“I will not.”

“Your word, Anna?” he pressed, reverting to tones of authority.

“My word, your lordship.”

He flinched at that, which was a minor gratification.

A silence, unhappy for her, God knew what for him, stretched between them.

“Were you to disappear, I would worry about you, you know,” he said softly. He trailed his fingers down over her wrist to lace with hers and squeeze briefly.

She nodded, as there was nothing to say to such folly. Not one thing.

In the moonlight, he saw her face in profile, eyes closed, head back. His last comment seemed to strike her with the same brutal intensity as her use of his title had hit him, for she stiffened as if she’d taken an arrow in the back before dropping his hand and fleeing.