Preston sat alone in his library nursing a glass of brandy and feeling rather sorry for himself when the door opened behind him. Comfortable in a chair, staring out over the dark garden outside, he didn't bother turning around.

"It's all right, Giles," he said, waving a hand at the butler. "You can tell the valet to go to bed. I will sort myself out, as I don't know when I will retire for the night."

Someone cleared their throat, making him frown. That didn't sound like his butler.

"I'm afraid Giles can't deliver your message."

With his heart in his throat, he stood and turned to the interloper. "Amelia," he said, keeping his voice measured. "What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night. Have you no sense of propriety?"

She wore a large cloak covering most of her form, but he could see the ball dress from earlier in the evening underneath it. "Apparently not," she replied. "I wanted— No, I needed to speak to you. And you had already left Gowthorpe's ball."

Walking around the desk to lean back against it, he shook his head. "What could possibly be so important that you risk your reputation by visiting me alone at night?" He made a show of looking behind her. "I see you have no chaperone. How did you even get inside?"

"I left my maid at home," she admitted with a lack of concern that should frustrate him, but despite everything, he was happy to see her. Why had she come? A flicker of hope fluttered to life in his chest, no matter how hard he tried to extinguish it. "And I snuck in through the servants' entrance in the back."

He took a sip of his drink as he watched her, trying to determine her purpose for this improper visit. Setting the glass down on the desk behind him, he crossed his arms over his chest. "And why, pray tell, have you decided to visit me at this hour?"

"I... I needed to speak with you." With lightly trembling fingers, she untied the cloak and slid it off before throwing it on a chair.

He frowned. A nervous Amelia? That was not a common sight. "Yes," he said. "You mentioned that already. What was so important it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

Instead of answering him straight away, she paced the room from side to side, not unlike the time she had come to him to request his help with capturing the interest of the Marquess of Pensington. Not sure what to expect, he remained half-sitting on his desk as he watched her continue to tread a path across the floor of his library. A few strands of hair had come loose from her intricate hairdo to caress the curves of her neck and shoulders. Pushing it back behind her ears, she let out a frustrated huff before she stopped to level him with a glare.

"You're all wrong!" she burst out.

"So you've told me," he drawled.

"I have no interest in rakes. A rake is exactly what I don't want. Shouldn't want." She took a few steps towards him, making him straighten. "But a friend pointed something out to me tonight..."

"And what's that?" He swallowed as she took the remaining steps separating them, coming to stand in front of him.

Refusing to meet his gaze, she kept her eyes trained on the buttons on his shirt where he'd removed his cravat after returning home. "She said you can't choose who you love."

His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he waited for her to elaborate.

She sighed. "I already know I'm attracted to you." A wry smile touched her lips. "We both do. But I refused to believe it was anything beyond that. Because how could I fall in love with exactly the type of man I do not want?"

"Because we don't get to choose who we love any more than we can choose who we are attracted to?" he ventured a quiet guess.

"Exactly." Her head slowly tilted until her brown eyes met his. "You may be exactly what I don't want. But you are also everything I do want. You make me laugh. You talk to me like my opinion matters. I..." She faltered, her cheeks turning pink under his intense scrutiny. "I love you, Preston."

Her words struck him like a punch to the gut, stealing his breath away. Unable to resist any longer, he pulled her to him and pressed his mouth to hers. When her lips opened in surprise, he took immediate advantage and deepened the kiss. Savouring every moment of her in his arms. She melted into his embrace with a happy sigh, and her arms slid around his shoulders to bury in the hair at the back of his head.

He wanted her in his life. Every day. He wanted to wake up every morning and go to sleep every night with her next to him. He wanted to talk to her and laugh with her. Other than her brother, she was his best friend, and he would do anything to make her happy.

But right this moment... Right now, he wanted nothing more than to keep kissing her. To taste every inch of her body and hear her cry out his name as she came apart in his arms.

Dragging his lips down her neck, he licked and nibbled, every sound, every moan spurring him on further. His hands slid down to grip her hips, allowing him to swing her around and lift her up to sit on the edge of the desk. He wedged between her knees as her legs parted while returning to capture her mouth in a passionate kiss. Amelia responded to his every move with equal fervour. Bunching the skirt of her dress in his hand, he slowly pulled it up her legs until he could feel the bare skin above her stockings.

It was so very tempting to move his hand further up. To seek her heat, but he forced himself to pull back slightly. His hesitation made her shift restlessly on the desk, her hands pulling lightly on his shirt collar to bring his mouth back to hers.

"Amelia," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "We must stop before I prove myself every bit the rake you accuse me of being. The side of me I am trying to leave behind."

Her eyes fluttered open and her hands lowered to her lap. "You are?"

He nodded. "I have not been with another woman since the moment I realised I loved you."

When her tongue darted out to wet her lips, he nearly captured her mouth in another kiss but held back. Barely.

"And how long ago is that?" she asked.

"When you came out for your first season. It became rather obvious when I was jealous of every man courting you. Every smile you bestowed on someone who was not me. Every dance shared with someone else."

"That is more than a year ago!" Her eyes widened, and she nudged his chest teasingly. "You have known all this time, and you never told me!"

The corners of his mouth curved into a self-deprecating smile. "I am aware that I'm not quite what you want. Or deserve. I had planned to take the secret of my love for you to my grave. Then you came to me with your scheme to trap Pensington... And I could not stay away from you."

She grinned. "I'm glad you could not."

Leaning down, he buried his nose in the hair at her temple, taking in the faint flowery smell. "So am I," he admitted.

Unable to withstand the temptation any longer, he placed a kiss on the sensitive spot below her ear. She let out a shuddering breath as he dragged his lips down along her neck, tasting her skin. The sound rekindled his desire instantly, and his hand slid along the contours of her waist and hip, desperately wanting to pull her closer.

"Your brothers will not approve," he mumbled against her shoulder.

"Maybe not," she agreed. "So let's not give them the chance to."

He raised his head to look at her, unsure of what she was suggesting.

She smiled slowly, a wicked glint in her brown eyes. "Tonight," she said. "Be a rake. Make sure my brothers have no recourse other than to see us married."

When he didn't immediately answer—he wasn't sure he remembered how to use words right then—she put her hand on his chest just above his heart, and her eyes met his.

"Seduce me, Preston."

~~~~~~