Amelia cursed herself as she came to a stop in a corner of the garden, hidden behind some trees. It was darker in this part, the garden walls obstructing the moonlight filtering between the branches, and no lanterns had been placed this far out. What had she done? She groaned. She had allowed Preston to kiss her. Preston! And it had been glorious. That might be the worst part. This was all wrong. It wasn't Preston that should kiss her, and she certainly should not be enjoying it.

Subconsciously, her hand came up to touch her mouth with hesitant fingers. The silk of her gloves was cool against her lips, but the memory of Preston's kiss was anything but cold. Blast!

"Amelia?" His voice cut through her annoyance and she automatically took a step towards it before remembering herself and backing further into her corner. She didn't want to see him. It was mortifying to think how easily she had melted into his embrace. How her fingers had buried in his hair. What must he think of her?

"Please," he continued, and she saw his dark form coming from behind a row of bushes, the moonlight streaking his dark hair with silver. "Can we talk about this?"

She didn't want to talk. If she was absolutely honest, she wanted to keep kissing him, and that just wouldn't do. Preston was not who she wanted. Pensington. I want Pensington. The marquess, however, obviously had no interest in her. But she could not kiss Preston. He was her brother's friend. He was a rake. He was almost everything she wanted. With another quiet expletive, she backed another step, and a loud crack reverberated through the evening air as she stepped on a twig.

Preston's head snapped in her direction, the angles of his face in sharp relief in the faint moonlight. "Amelia?"

Frozen on the spot, she didn't dare to move. Barely dared to breathe. He was looking in her direction, his eyes narrowing as if trying to see past the darkness. Her insides lurched as he walked towards her, coming in underneath the tree branches. Standing still, he appeared to be searching the area for a sign of her.

"I can see your dress," he said after another moment. "I won't stay if you truly do not wish to speak to me, but I am hoping you will."

She sighed. Why had she chosen a white dress? Next time, she would wear something dark and muted. Just in case she wanted to hide. "No," she muttered. "It's fine. It was childish to run away from you."

"You had every reason to. I should never have kissed you." He shifted from one foot to the other as his hand came up to rake through his hair. "I'm so sorry, Amelia... That was badly done of me. And highly improper."

He couldn't see her wry smile, so she let out a small scoff. She had basically taunted him to do it. Finding out he was attracted to her had been exhilarating. She had been berating herself for days after realising she was jealous about the attention he was giving other young ladies. To discover he didn't only see her as Adrian's annoying little sister had been... A revelation. And she had wanted him to kiss her. So foolish. She should know better.

"No need to apologise," she said. "We were both caught up in the moment. It's easy to do foolish things under the cover of darkness."

"But I do need to apologise." He breached the distance between them and took her hand in his. Bringing it to his face, he placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. "I am the more experienced one here. I should know better."

The simple touch sent a warm shiver along her arm, and she snatched her hand back. His arm fell limply to his side. Perhaps he thought she was rejecting his touch. Deciding it was safer if he believed that, she did not deprive him of the notion.

"Are you implying I'm too young and naïve to know what I want?" she said, her tone suitably icy.

"No, I—" He fell silent before letting out a warm chuckle. "Well, I suppose I am."

"Trust that I would not allow anyone to kiss me unless I wanted them to." She crossed her arms over her chest. "This is my second Season. I am not unaware of these things."

"Apparently."

Was that amusement in his voice? She scowled. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No." There was definitely a hint of laughter in his voice. She did not appreciate it one bit. "Amelia, I'm fully aware that you are not naïve, and I never intended to imply that you were. However," he added before she could interject. "As you like to point out—I am a rake. By definition, I should know better than to kiss a young, unmarried lady."

"Isn't kissing young ladies exactly what rakes do?" she muttered.

"Only disreputable ones." He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I will not lie and say I have not seduced enough women, but never one who did not wish to be, and certainly never someone who would be ruined if it was ever discovered. And I haven't—"

He stopped himself from finishing the sentence, and she wondered what he had been about to say. "You haven't what?" she said.

"It doesn't matter. All I'm saying is that kissing you was a mistake, and for that, I am sorry. I never want to risk your reputation."

It always irked her when men would not tell her the whole story. As if her feminine sensibilities could not handle the truth. Her brothers and father were always trying to shield her, and while she knew it was out of love, it did not frustrate her any less. Annoyed, she pushed past him, only to stop a few steps away and turn around. He was little more than a dark shadow below the trees, but that might be for the better. She didn't need to see his stupidly handsome face.

"It is rather offending when you appear to believe I can not make my own choices. I allowed you to kiss me. The mistake is on both of us."

"Fine. I'm happy to share the blame." There was a moment's silence. "Amelia? What did you mean when you said 'never again'?"

She groaned. "So you heard that."

A brief chuckle. "It was difficult not to."

"I'm sorry for my outburst." With a sigh, she leaned against the trunk of one of the larger trees. "If it helps, I was more angry with myself than with you. I have vowed never to look at another rake. And here we are."

He watched her quietly for a moment. "Want to tell me about it?"

"Not particularly." She averted her face. It was too dark for him to see her properly, but she still couldn't bear to face him. It was such an embarrassing story. She had been such a fool.

The grass crunched under his shoes as he came up to her, his shadow appearing in the corner of her vision. His hand came up to tuck a finger under her chin, gently tilting her head back to face him. Moonlight filtered through the leaves above them where they stood, allowing her to make out some of his features as he stared down at her. Something in her abdomen did an awkward somersault.

"Whatever happened," he said quietly. "I hope you know I would never dishonour you. While I may have kissed you in a moment of weakness, I will never take advantage of you."

"I know that. While you are a rake, you're a good man." She made a wry face. "But I should know better than to kiss a man like you. There is no future with a rake, and I don't want to risk my reputation again."

"There is that word again." There was a hard edge to his words as he asked, "Who hurt you?"

"It's in the past. Let's not speak of it. I was young and foolish."

"Adrian has never mentioned anything of the sort," he said thoughtfully.

"For my protection. Or I'm sure he would have." She wondered if he was aware that he was still touching her. His hand had dropped to her shoulder where it rested gently against her skin, his thumb caressing a path above her clavicle. He wasn't wearing gloves, and the feeling of the pad of his thumb against her bare skin was oddly distracting.

"He had a falling out with Lord Fulmer a few years ago." His eyebrows drew together as he watched her face for any signs of confirmation. "Fulmer is a bounder. Did he try anything with you?"

"I..." Maybe if he stopped touching her, she could gather her thoughts. But she also didn't want him to stop. "He spent a few weeks at our estate during the summer when I was sixteen. As I'm sure you know, he can be charming when he wants to, and I was taken with him. When Adrian wasn't looking, he promised me the world. Confessed his love. We would have escaped to Gretna Green together."

"Adrian found out?" Preston's hand on her shoulder flexed slightly, but he didn't move away.

"Yes. The night before we would have left." She sighed, the memory still painful. Not because she had loved Fulmer. It had been an infatuation at best—she knew that now—but because she had been so deluded as to think he had loved her. "During their argument, he admitted that he only cared for my dowry. Without it, he was not interested in anything beyond seducing me."

Preston let out a soft curse. "I can see why Adrian has not spoken to him since. It's a wonder he still has his teeth."

A little giggle escaped her. "Not for lack of trying." Sobering, she shrugged. "My family could have brought him down by telling everyone what he had tried to do, but they decided against it to save my reputation."

They fell into silence, but he didn't take his hand from her shoulder. "So this is why you are so against rakes."

It wasn't a question, but she nodded. "I have no interest in being nothing but another conquest for any man."

Another moment of silence. His hand had stilled, as if his mind was too preoccupied to keep the body moving. "Do you think so ill of me that you believe I would ever seduce you, only to leave you?"

She couldn't quite place the tone of his voice, but he sounded... wounded? "You... You are a rake," she pointed out. "It is always safer to stay away from one. Preferably six feet or more."

"This is nowhere near six feet." He shifted on his feet, moving slightly closer. Her insides did a backflip. "I would like to think it's because you know that I'm an honourable man."

"Is there such a thing as an honourable rake?" she asked, her voice more breathless than she'd have liked.

He chuckled darkly. "I suppose that depends on your definition."

"Would an honourable man have kissed me?" She was baiting him, and she knew it. But she enjoyed their light banter. Probably a little too much.

"No," he admitted. "But even honourable men can fail in the face of great temptation."

Her eyes flew to his. They glittered darkly in the moonlight. Her breath hitched. "Temptation can definitely be difficult to resist." Her voice was little more than a whisper as he placed a hand on the tree trunk next to her head and leaned a little closer. Their breaths mingled.

"Almost impossible," he murmured, his eyes searching hers for the answer she wasn't sure she ought to give him. But oh, how she wanted him to kiss her again.

"I don't think anyone could blame an honourable man—or lady—for a moment of weakness," she whispered.

The hand on her shoulder came up to cup her face. His fingers were warm against her skin as he stared down at her. "I think we both know society would blame them." The corners of his mouth twitched. "But perhaps no one needs to know of this... moment of weakness."

"No one."

His lips brushed against hers, and she almost forgot to breathe. Their previous kiss had been swift and passionate, and over too quickly. This time he took his time as his mouth came back to hers, teasing and nibbling, making her long for more before his tongue finally stole across her lips to deepen the kiss. Every stroke sent an arrow of excitement through her, hot desire growing and pooling low in her abdomen.

Trailing kisses along her jaw, he nipped at her earlobe before placing warm kisses on her neck. Her arms slid around his neck, her fingers threading through his dark hair. She had been kissed before, but even the skill of a rake like Fulmer was nothing compared to how Preston's simple, teasing touches sent warm anticipation coursing through her. A teasing nibble below her ear sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine, and all thoughts of other men dispersed. There was only Preston and his hands and mouth.

"You taste amazing," he whispered against her skin. "I could kiss you for hours."

His mouth returned to hers as if to prove his words, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. She pressed against him, wanting more, wanting to feel him, and his hands drifted to her waist to pull her close. Even through the layers of their clothing, she could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against her abdomen. Slanting his mouth across hers, Preston deepened the kiss further, and she moaned against him. Their simple kiss had turned into something else, a fire raging between them.

As if he had the same thought, Preston pulled back, his breathing uneven. "This may not have been our best idea," he mumbled.

"Maybe not," she allowed.

"But I cannot bring myself to regret it."

"Me neither."

They stared at each other through the dusk. Preston bowed his head. "Amelia, I—"

The sound of voices drifting close interrupted whatever he had been about to say and he stepped away from her. "We should return inside before anyone notices we are gone," he whispered. "You go first, and I will follow in a few minutes."

She nodded, and after a quick look to make sure no one was near enough to see her, she exited the small gathering of trees and walked back to the ballroom. Her lips still tingled with the memory of their kiss, distracting her enough to not notice where she was going until she collided with a wide chest on the terrace.

"Lady Amelia?" Lord Pensington was staring down at her with his eyes wide in surprise. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. Oh, yes. My apologies. I fear I was lost in thought." She flashed him one of her most charming smiles.

His gaze lingered on her lips for a moment, and she was suddenly struck by the fear that someone might be able to tell that she'd just been thoroughly kissed. Was that a thing? She wasn't sure. When he threw a glance towards the dark garden where she'd come from, her stomach dropped. Maybe it was possible. Would he tell anyone? Her reputation would be ruined.

"I... I went for a walk to clear my head," she said, the words sounding desperate even to her.

The marquess smiled gently. And was that a spark of amusement in his dark eyes? He cleared his throat. "Lady Amelia, would you like to keep me company on the terrace for a little while?"

It was her turn to stare. Was he interested in her, after all? "Oh. I would love to."

He leaned a little closer and her heart nearly stopped for a moment, but he only whispered in her ear, "May I suggest that you rearrange your hairdo? It's slightly askew."

She blinked, and her cheeks flushed red. When he straightened, there was no mistaking the amusement lingering on his face. It was evident in the mischievous glitter in his eyes and the slight turn of his lips. She should be grateful that he was helping her hide the evidence of what she had done out in the garden, but right then, she was mortified more than anything else.

"Thank you," she mumbled as her hands flew up to her hair.

"It's no problem." The marquess smiled down at her. "We've all needed a moment after a... stroll in the gardens late at night."

He winked. Amelia groaned inwardly. Her grand plans for this Season were not going very well. Not very well at all.

~~~~~~