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“You say I don’t listen and don’t see,” he growled, “but I have eyes and ears that work as well as any man’s, and oftentimes they drive me mad.”

Emily froze, watching him with her breath trapped in her throat. Her heart hammered, blood thrumming through her veins. He watched her, eyes dark and shadowed, like a wolf eyeing an isolated deer. Slowly, slowly, he lifted her hand to his face, pressing it to his cheek and holding his hand over it.

“I can’t give you my heart, but I can give you this,” he murmured.

His voice was so low that she almost did not hear him above the noise of the carriage. It was a breath, a prayer almost.

“G-Give me what?” she whispered.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, only on the mouth. Then, he pulled back as if to gauge her reaction.

Emily stared at him, trying in vain to decipher the flicker behind his eyes. When she could not make out anything, she wound her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, kissing him hungrily.

He responded, his tongue pressing between her lips and dancing over her teeth. He tasted of wine, a sour-sweet taste that went straight to the pit of her stomach. Desire and longing—two very different feelings, Emily had discovered—mingled in her gut, the familiar ache between her thighs pulsing eagerly.

Cassian tore himself away, tilting his head to press a kiss to the side of her neck. She felt a prick of teeth there, nothing to break the skin or to truly hurt, but enough to send a wave of bittersweet pain through her. He smoothed his tongue over the mark before pressing his lips to it.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he purred, his breath hot and moist against her neck.

“Yes,” Emily whispered. “Yes, please. And I… I want to touch you. It’s only fair.”

She felt his breath stutter against her.

“Very well,” he answered, after a long pause.

There was a rustling, and warm fingers curled around her knee, sliding higher in an almost business-like fashion.

Cassian knelt on the floor between the carriage seats, down on one knee—as if he were proposing, Emily thought a trifle hysterically—and moved his long, clever fingers to the place between her thighs. She threw back her head, whichthunkedagainst the back of the carriage seat. Not that she cared. He seemed urgent, almost desperate, sliding and pressing in a stuttering, eager rhythm.

He kissed her again and again on the neck, going back to the small mark he’d left before to run his tongue over his. He kissed her on the chin, cheek, forehead, skimming over her lips, while his hand kept moving faster and faster. Emily felt as though she were floating, pleasure building up even more intensely than before.

It’s him.He is the one who makes me feel this way.

Oh, heavens. I’m in love with him, aren’t I?

Her climax crashed upon her just as that realization dawned on her. She cried out, her fingernails digging into the back of his neck. Cassian gave a low growl, deep in his throat, leaning forward to press his lips to her throat one more time.

Minutes could have gone by, or hours. Perhaps it was simply seconds. At last, Cassian slid his arm out from under her skirts and sat back.

Emily straightened up a little, still dazed and breathless. “Now you,” she said, as firmly as she could manage. “It is your turn, Cassian.”

She dropped her gaze to the fork of his trousers and saw a worryingly large bulge there, not quite hidden by the folds of fabric.

At that moment, the carriage stopped.

Emily’s eyes widened, and she peered out the window. “We’re home,” she squeaked. “Already? I…”

Cassian slid across the carriage seat, reaching for the handle. “I am tired, Emily,” he murmured, not meeting her eyes.

“But I wanted?—”

“No,” he interrupted, a little sharply. The bulge in his trousers was still there, but he seemed to be ignoring it, pulling his coat down to hide it. “No, Emily. This has gone far enough.”

Then, he slipped out of the carriage and strode across the courtyard towards the house, leaving her sitting alone in the dark carriage, her heart slowly but surely breaking.

CHAPTER28

My Dear Miss Belmont,