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And then Lily’s eyes, the curve of her lips, became the universe.

Gideon cupped his hand around Lily’s neck and continued gazing down at her; his thumb began to stroke, slowly stroke, the silky skin beneath her jaw. Her eyes trembled closed.

“Forgive me, Lily.” The words were almost a sigh.

He lowered his head.

It was a breath of a kiss, a testing kiss. But it could not remain that way; the desire had been too long denied. Her lips beneath his were a miracle, all softness and give; and Gideon’s lips became gently insistent, moving over hers until they parted to allow his tongue to stroke tentatively between them. When Lily made a soft sound in the back of her throat, a soft sound of wanting, Gideon slid his hands down over her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her slim waist, and Lily’s hands glided up his chest to clasp behind his head, settling into his embrace.

And then she tilted her head back, opening fully to him.

There was nothing of artifice or expertise in her kiss, just want and instinct. Dizzy with wonder and greed, Gideon’s mouth took hers; her lips met, moved with his in equal hunger. Their tongues twined, withdrew, twined again, as Lily’s fingers dragged softly over the nape of his neck.

The pleasure was sweeter, more piercing than anything he had ever known.

Gideon drew a path with lips from her mouth to her throat, and then delicately tasted the fragile skin there, felt her heart beat there; Lily sighed, murmured something softly. He pulled her closer still, tightly up against him so she could feel the hard swell of his arousal, so she could know what the feel of her, the taste of her, did to him; she buried her face in his throat, her breath, her lips, hot against his skin, and pushed herself closer, closer, moving her hips against him, seeking her own pleasure and driving him closer to the edge of frenzy.
She wants me, too
.

And the realization spurred his hands; he grew bolder, more insistent, more rash and eager. His lips took her mouth again, more deliberately, and he began to gather her dress up in his fingers, in a fever to touch the skin between her thighs, to cup the heat between her legs, to delve his fingers into the moisture he knew was gathering there, to make her shake in his arms, cry out for him.
I can take her now. I will take her here in the garden
—

And then a swan made an irritated sound, and sense seeped back into Gideon’s consciousness.

He lifted his lips from hers at once and held her loosely away from him in a sort of shock; Lily leaned her forehead against his chest. They stood that way for what felt like minutes, breathing roughly, the summer sunshine beating down.

At last Gideon pulled away from Lily’s embrace and looked down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips stung pink, her eyes dazed and heated still.

Gideon sank onto the little wrought iron bench and slumped there, his hands flat against his thighs. He looked hunted.

“Lily, I’ve no right… I should not have…”

She slowly lowered herself onto the bench, a careful distance away from him. In the silence that followed, she could hear the fountain pouring itself endlessly into the swan pool.

Her senses reeled, drunk with Gideon Cole. Ghosts of sensation lingered on her fingertips, her lips and throat, as though they’d been held up to a fire. Her hands in his silky hair, on his warm skin, his sweet hard mouth joined with hers… and the taste of him, the salt and musk… it was far more potent than anything,
anything
she could have lived in her imagination, or read in a book.

“She is all that is worthy,” Gideon said finally, half to himself. He turned to look at Lily, then turned quickly away, as though the sight of her was too painful. “Constance, that is. She has… wealth and position. She is the daughter of a marquis.” It sounded as though he was trying to explain something, both to himself and to her. Lily waited.

“You see…” Gideon took a deep breath. “My sister, Helen… well, her husband is not a… good man.” He paused. “He… he drinks.”

“Oh.” There was something more; Lily sensed it. “Papa drank.”

Gideon’s head turned toward her swiftly. “Did he ever hurt you?”

“No. He merely drank up everything we had.” She smiled sadly. But then all at once she understood. “Mr. Cole—your sister’s husband—does he—?”

Gideon closed his beautiful dark eyes wearily. When he opened them again, they were old and tormented. His hand fluttered up to his cheekbone, a sort of hopeless gesture. “Here. She’s had bruises here, Lily. The sort that… that a fist would leave. More than once I’ve seen them. Helen has not stated so outright, but… I’m certain of it. He drinks,” Gideon concluded grimly, “and then he hits her.”

“Oh, Gideon.” Lily’s voice had gone faint.

“And you see, Lily… Helen and I, after we lost our parents, there was very little money, and much debt. Crushing debt. And well, I was a boy, Lily. I confess I was… a little afraid. I sold our home to pay the debts, and Helen and I had very little money left. We discussed it, and Helen decided to marry a man who offered for her, so I could continue on at Oxford with what money we had. She was seventeen at the time, but she claimed to
like
the idea of being wed. But now I think… well, if I’d gone into soldiering rather than staying at Oxford… perhaps my tuition could have become her dowry… perhaps I could have secured a better marriage for her. But I,” he added bitterly, “
wanted
to stay on at Oxford. I wanted to somehow restore all my father had managed to lose. To build and keep a fortune, restore our family’s honor, such as it was. And Helen knew I wanted it I think that may be part of the reason she agreed to this marriage. I don’t think her husband was always quite like this. But over the years his drinking has worsened. As has his… conduct.”

Lily closed her own eyes against the ache that swelled in her. Gideon Cole, protector of the weak and defenseless, tormentor of pickpockets, occupied a hell on earth. Because he had not been able to protect his own sister.

“Your uncle… perhaps she could come here…”

“Well, Helen’s ashamed, you see; my uncle was dead against the marriage from the start. They argued bitterly about it and haven’t spoken since, and she won’t come to Aster Park. It was like Uncle Edward
knew
… Anyhow, when I marry Lady Constance Clary… among other things, I believe I can persuade Helen to come to live with me. At the very least, I will be able to set her up in her own household.”

And now Lily understood what Gideon was really telling her. He was a good man, a kind man, a beautiful man. A
human
man. And an honorable man, in his way. But nothing had changed. His Master Plan remained. And Lady Constance Clary was the key to his future.

“I will not keep you if you wish to leave Aster Park, Lily.” He looked away from her to say these words; his voice was frayed, soft with emotion.

I love him
. The realization struck Lily as cleanly as a rock to the head, though it had been dawning for days now. She loved him. It was a strange, delicious anguish, a birth and a death. She traced Gideon’s profile with her eyes, numb with a sense of unreality that something that seemed so clearly meant for her could never, ever be.

She listened to the fountain pouring endlessly into itself and thought:
So this is love. It fills you up, so you must give it away or it will flood you
.

“I will go with you to London, Gideon. I will help you to win Constance.” Her heart was in the words; she hoped Gideon knew it. “I will make very certain that you do.”

He smiled, that slow gift of a smile that—oh God-carved her heart right out of her chest.

“Thank you, Lily.”

He did not look like a grateful man. He looked like a man in agony.

“But once you are engaged to Lady Clary… I will go,” she added gently.

Gideon slowly skimmed her features with his eyes, as if memorizing her face. “If that is what you desire.” His voice had gone husky.

But they both knew that Lily, proud Lily, would have it no other way.
Never allow yourself to be at the mercy of any man, Lily
.

“It is what I desire.” Gently said, but firmly, too.

He nodded once. “What will you do then?”

“What I have always done. Survive.” She tried for flippancy, but her voice broke a little, spoiling it.

Another silence passed between them; to Lily, it felt like a widening of the inevitable gulf.

“Ho, Gideon, are we going to see Mr. Cunnington’s mare this afternoon?” Kilmartin’s hearty voice rang across the garden.

“I’ll be there in a moment, Laurie.”

Gideon stood up, and Lily followed. “Until dinner, then, Miss Masters?”

“Very well, Mr. Cole.” She curtsied, beautifully, and a hint of a smile touched his lips.

“I would have no worries about the
ton
, Lily. You are perhaps the truest lady I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

He bowed low to her, and she watched him walk, his hair glowing like lit coal in the sun, away from her and toward Kilmartin’s impatient voice.

Chapter Thirteen

Another demned relative, eh?“ was how Aunt Hester greeted the three of them when they arrived at her London town house.

Aunt Hester studied Lily through a quizzing glass, which made her watery blue eyes look enormous, and magnified the millions of fine lines that hatched her face.

“You don’t look like any of the other Mowbrys, but I aver, Lawrence’s branch of the family mated like rabbits,” she pronounced flatly, finally, her scrutiny completed. “Can’t keep track anymore. No matter: pleased to meet you dear, welcome, and if you’re a relative, well, you can call me Aunt Hester. I’ve been called into service as chaperone here, and I hope you appreciate it. Bloody dull, if you ask me.”

And with that, Aunt Hester turned abruptly and wobbled out of the room, her cane thumping the floor.

The three of them stared after her open-mouthed.

“Well,
she’s
certainly charming, Laurie,” Gideon managed at last.

“She’s
old
, Gideon. She probably wouldn’t care if we entertained a cast of Drury Lane actresses in the downstairs sitting room. Nor would she hear it, come to that. But she’s all the respectability we need. And look out for her cane. I felt it more than once across my legs as a lad—she has a wicked swing.”

“She said ‘demned’ and ‘bloody. ’” Lily was awed. “And she never curtsied once.”

“She gave all that up long ago,” Kilmartin explained. “The privileges of being old and rich, I suppose. And if she attempted a curtsy, she’d probably never be able to straighten herself to a standing position again.”

“I like her,” Lily declared.

“Don’t let it give you any ideas, Miss Masters.” Gideon smiled a little. “
You
will be curtsying and saying ‘goodness. ’ Now, let’s get settled into our rooms. Where are the footmen with our trunks?”

On cue, a series of footmen—surprisingly young and handsome and virile-looking footmen—paraded in with the trunks containing Lily’s London finery and proceeded up the stairs.

Gideon pointed to a tray overflowing with little white cards. “I sent word to various acquaintances that we’d be returning to the
ton
, as did Laurie, and he mentioned you’d be along, too. That blizzard of cards and invitations is the result. Everyone is curious to see
you
, Miss Masters, for you are a new face, and any new face on the scene excites curiosity. Tonight, we will begin in earnest—we will be attending a ball. Lady Braxton’s seasonal do. Do you think you can manage it?”

As he’d expected, Lily’s chin went up. Gideon smiled a little. Lily did defiance the way other people breathed.

“Watch that chin,” he told her softly. ‘Think ’swan. ‘“And then he was sorry he’d said it. Because “swan” reminded both of them of the garden, and the sun beating down, and an extraordinary kiss. He watched a flush slowly tint Lily’s cheeks; he felt an uncomfortable warmth in his own. He decided to make a great show of following the footmen up the stairs, issuing orders as he went.

He tried and failed to pretend he couldn’t feel a pair of aquamarine eyes on his back.

The smell of something cooking rose up to Gideon in his room. Aunt Hester certainly had a decent household staff; they would not waste away while they stayed with her. She probably paid her servants well. Or perhaps they were simply afraid of her cane.

He sat down on his bed and opened the little box; it hadn’t been touched in years, and the lid creaked, protesting. But the necklace, a single tiny, round diamond on a gold chain, had lost none of its gleam. He lifted it out and looped it over one finger; it swung gently, the tiny diamond frisking with the light.

The necklace had been his mother’s, one of the few things his father hadn’t gambled away or pawned. She had cherished it, his mother, and Gideon and Helen had known that when it appeared around her neck, the occasion was special indeed.

Lily would need a necklace to wear with her finery. At one time he’d thought he’d give the necklace to Constance once they were wed, but he’d since thought better of it: doubtless the tiny diamond would confuse and embarrass her. He could give it to Helen… but it was entirely possible her husband would take it from her and pawn it.

But why give it to Lily? She was only an ephemeral part of his life; she would leave him when their charade had ended. And if he could stop thinking of the kiss in the garden, of course, that memory would fade eventually, too.

But he couldn’t stop thinking of the kiss in the garden.

A hot weakness swept through him again, a desire unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Last night, lying awake, he had thought he would the if he couldn’t someday—
soon
— take Lily Masters.

But he would not use undue persuasion. He wanted her to choose him for his own sake, rather than for… for the sake of having a protector. If she did not come to him willingly… well, then, it could never, ever be.

He gave himself a shake.
Good God, get a hold of yourself, Cole
. All of this internal Byronic drama had been exacerbated, he was sure, by the fact that he had been virtually cloistered with her and Kilmartin in the country. That he had not tasted or touched a woman intimately for far too long.