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Ian grinned, and she looked strangely at the corner of his mouth. Currently, his only desire was to kiss her. Especially if she insisted on looking at his mouth with passion-filled eyes. “I’d rather not talk about desires that won’t be fulfilled tonight.”

She raised her eyes to his, a vulnerable spark in her dark brown eyes.

“Tonight, it’s all about your desires.”

She took a sip and extended the glass to him. Ian tipped the glass against his lips, watching her as he did so and hoping that the taste of her lips lingered on the glass.

The shrub wasn’t too sweet. It was slightly sour but pleasant against his tongue. He’d have to get by with this drink as the only thing that would touch his tongue tonight.

“I am nervous,” she whispered.

Ian set the glass aside and scooted toward her, so close that their knees touched. He leaned closer still, until their noses were almost touching and whispered back, “Don’t be.”

She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, breathing him in.

Ian raised his hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek, slowly. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. He lowered his finger, tracing the contour of her face, and her neck, chasing away the chills.

He ran his hand down to the opening of her dressing gown, then lower still until he encountered the waistband. “I am going to take off your dressing gown now,” he whispered.

She nodded, her eyes still closed. Ian slowly undid the sash and tipped the dressing gown, letting it fall from her shoulders.

Mrs. St. John swallowed, the ripples in her delicate neck beckoning him to put his tongue against her soft skin. The kiss would soothe her worries away, he was certain. If she’d only let him kiss her, they’d move quicker into seduction. But that was one of her three little demands.

He needed to find other ways to make her comfortable.

He moved even closer, so their thighs were touching, his hand on her waist, his face only a hair’s breadth away from her cheek.

He lowered his face and blew hot puffs of air on her neck. She shuddered as the chills chased around her skin, her hand finding his upper arm and squeezing. Ian buried his nose in her hair just behind her ear and took a deep breath. She still smelled a little of jasmine, her perfume. But in this lovely nook, her personal womanly scent of clean skin and sweetness was what drove him wild. He blew out a breath, and as the cool air hit her skin, she let out a soft sigh.

Ian ran the pad of his finger against her neck. Her skin was no longer cold to his touch, and her pulse violently throbbed against his finger. She turned to him, her nose nudging against his.

Ian didn’t dare move. His entire body hardened as his skin felt tight and hot.

A single touch.

No one had ever made him so aroused with a single touch. His blood rushed in his veins, boiling, scalding his entire body.

She opened her eyes, and he saw the answering fire in her gaze.

Chapter 12

No kisses, Helen had said, hoping that that would leave that certain intimacy reserved only for her and her late husband.

But this intimacy, the gentle touches, the silent breaths, was something beyond what kisses could have provided. Helen’s head was spinning. She didn’t understand what was going on.

Her body was flushing hot and cold one after another as her pulse drummed violently in all the places she had never expected her pulse to be.

She squeezed Lord McAllistair’s arm with her fingers, feeling his heat through the layers of clothes.

He was still completely dressed, while she was wearing the flimsy gown she’d never changed out of after trying it on.

He hadn’t seen it yet, she didn’t think. He was too close, his face only a hair’s breadth away from hers, his body pressing against hers.

He emanated so much heat, she wondered if they should put out the fire in the hearth lest she burned from the intensity of it.

He leaned away just at that moment, taking his heat with him and letting cool air envelop Helen’s body. He still didn’t take his gaze away. He waited for her to take her hand off his arm and only then did he move to remove his coat, waistcoat, and cravat.

Now he was in his shirtsleeves, and she was in her nightgown.