Page 3 of Almost A Scoundrel

The question had led him to his garden where an invisible force had pulled and tugged until his mouth had claimed hers. He could no more resist the impulse than a sailor could turn away from the bewitching call of a siren.

Bathed in moonlight, her hair cascaded to her waist in waves of rich, alluring chestnut. He had wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through the silky strands.

He had resisted that compulsion.

Until the moment her eyes touched his and all his wits evaporated. Wide and innocent, filled with unflagging resolve—probably to find her cat—she’d twisted his gut up in knots. A thousand of Napoleon’s cavalry could not have dragged his gaze away from her. Raw impulse overtook rational thought.

Thus, he had broken his one, chief, superior rule—no entanglements with any lady of any sort. Most troubling of all, he did not regret it.

A problem.

A big problem.

Because he wanted to break it again.

Not that startling, considering that over the years, he’d been a reluctant observer of Lady Phaedra and her family’s private incidents. A phenomenon only he seemed subjected to. He’d borne witness to the time she pulled a pistol on a suitor. Also the time she’d tossed a tray of sandwiches at a man who Deerhurst presumed had insulted her. He’d even been there the day she brought home a kitten, otherwise known as Puck.

Well, he hadn’t beenthere, there.

It seemed to be one of those mystifying quirks of the universe. Whenever Deerhurst passed the Sharp residence, his gaze would stray to the windows of their drawing room, and every timethathappened, he would glimpse some scene or another. This would have been fine if he hadn’t, on occasion, caught the Earl of Huntly frolicking with his wife.

Deerhurst shuddered.

Perhaps he should gift Huntly a pair of curtains that left no crack after being drawn shut.

But tonight...

Once again, that foreign force propelled him forward, and he caught up to Phaedra in a few long strides. He couldn’t let her go yet. One more interaction, just one more, and he’d be done.

“Lady Phaedra,” he called and hid a grin when her back stiffened. “You should be more careful where you follow Puck in the future. Perhaps the feline is in want of male companionship.”

She turned to him with a black look. “Your attempt at humor is as ill-suited as your behavior tonight.”

“My kiss must have affected you greatly for you to bring it up yet again.”

“Hardly, but I am a woman. We like to assign meaning to everything.”

“Oh? And what meaning have you assigned to me?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s your intention here, Deerhurst? You could have overlooked my presence, yet you chose the completely opposite path.”

Deerhurst lifted his hands in the air. “No intention, I promise.”

“I see. Then it seems I was right. Only a scoundrel would take advantage of a woman in the middle of the night.”

Slightly astonished, Deerhurst laughed. “You wound me.”

“Scoundrels rebound quickly.”

“Touché, Lady Phaedra. Yet I’d hate for you to form such a low opinion of me.”

“It has been formed.”

“There is no alternative to me being a scoundrel?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Deerhurst smiled at the determined lift of her jaw. There was something delightful about teasing Lady Phaedra.