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CHAPTER THREE

Daisy couldn’t believe what was happening. Nightingale, the Nightingale, was kissing her.

Surely not.

But then, she wouldn’t just imagine his lips attempting to conquer hers. She very much felt that. Every nerve ending in her body exploded under his touch. And by touch, she meant his tongue, sliding along her lips, coaxing them to part.

Which she did, of course.

But do not ask her why! Her mind was a chaotic mess somewhere between outrage and awe. The man tasted like sin. Or smoke. Or something entirely improper that no virtuous lady had any business describing. And he had stolen her first kiss in one fell swoop. Still, she didn’t stop him.

She kissed him back.

Then, as if drawn by some mysterious force, she rose onto her toes and looped her arms around his neck. If this was going to be her first kiss, she wanted it to be unforgettable.

He didn’t disappoint. Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding to the small of her back and drawing her closer until she was pressed fully against him.

Almost too gentle for what his reputation promised.

Her world spun. Her knees forgot their purpose.

Somewhere in the depths of her, something shattered only to weave itself back together again, thread by thread, into something new entirely.

Then he drew back—much too soon, his mouth hovering above hers, warm breath teasing her already burning lips, his own still parted as if tempted to return. Oh Lord, but his eyes. Dark. Green. Unreadable. And they held hers utterly captive.

Danger.

“I thought you didn’t touch wallflowers?” she breathed after catching her breath. Her wits were still very much lost.

A flicker. The barest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile—but not not one either.

“I don’t,” he murmured, voice rough. “But why do you not feel like one right now?”

Lord. My heart.

Only then did she realize—mortifyingly—that she was still pressed flush against him, and he’d made no move to let her go either. Slowly, Daisy retreated, her face flaming. His not-quite smile stretched into an unmistakably wolfish grin.

“Mission accomplished,” he murmured. “Favor, repaid.”

Daisy blinked. “What?”

He shrugged. “I told you I’d make you shine like the sun. You should hurry and run off to find Frosthaven. With that glow on your face, no one would be able to overlook you.”

Daisy furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure I get your meaning. Glow? What glow?”

He leaned in close, his voice dropping despite them being alone. “Your face is bright red, Daisy Lovenight. Just like the sun.”

Daisy’s hand shot to her cheeks. “I am not!” Her voice came out a bit too high for her own liking. “You’re imagining things.”

He chuckled. “I am not.”

Daisy stared at the man, incredulous. “So this is how you help me? Kissing me and then sending me off to another man?”

A brow arched. “Is that not what you wanted?”

Well… that… Urgh!

No! Yes. Perhaps. No!

But even as she protested, more heat licked up her neck, unmistakable proof that whatever color was painted all over her face had now deepened. She could practically feel her blush pulsing.

Really, a little voice whispered.

He crossed his arms when she didn’t answer. “You should go.”

“Nightingale—”

“Lady Daisy.” The mask fell, his voice low and final. “I am not a good man. I’ve already gone beyond all I’m prepared to go. Leave. If you are ruined here tonight, I will not do the right thing.”

Her heart sank.

And in that moment, Daisy came to a startling realization: she wanted to be ruined tonight. She wanted to be ruined by him. But, more than that, she wanted him to do the right thing.

If he hadn’t sent her away, he would have dragged her into the gardens and kissed her again.

And he wouldn’t have stopped. He’d have seduced her, and seduced her, until he’d gotten his way.

And while every part of him demanded to give in to that temptation, he couldn’t.

He had a code. One he could not break. To do so would make him no better than a beast. No better than his father.

Or his grandfather. Or his great-grandfather. And all the ones that came before them.

It was a point of pride for his father.

He scowled at the glass of cognac in his hand.

Then at his bed in the guest room he occupied.

Well, this was a damn first. Hiding in his room like a schoolboy avoiding the whip of the dean.

It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he first thought.

What was more uncomfortable was Lady Daisy’s expression before she left him alone in the garden.

Hurt. Perhaps a bit vexed. But most assuredly, hurt.

He didn’t like that one bit.

But he also didn’t know how to make her sparkle like she wanted without ruining her.

He tipped back the glass and swallowed the liquor, welcoming the burn.

It matched the slow simmer in his blood—equal parts desire and discipline.

The gods must be laughing at him. His male ancestors certainly were—a notorious rake with principles.

How very principled.

So unlike a rake.

The irony was not lost on him.

What was the use of being a rake, if not to surrender to temptation? If he couldn’t break the rules, even the ones he set for himself? Damn it all. Probably because those rules had never bothered him so much until tonight.

A wallflower he sensed was no wallflower at all.

He plopped himself into the chair by the fireplace, scowling at the flames. She confused the hell out of him.

“They should write sermons about me,” he scoffed to the empty room. “The Half-Cocked Rake. Has a ring to it. Gets the lady glowing like the sun and then sends her home like a gentleman.”

Ah hell. That reminded him. He glared at his cock. Another reason he’d retired to his room. Her name just brushed across his mind and the damn thing stood to attention.

He needed to leave.

Tomorrow.

First thing. He’d pack his belongings and return to London. His grandmother would scold him to purgatory, but damn it all to hell, this was hell.

His whole body settled at the decision.

Yes, tomorrow it would be over. No more of this madness. He could keep his distance, regain his sanity, and stay true to his reputation and his code. He could get back to his life—a life without the temptation of Lady Daisy Lovenight.

And yet, as the thought took root, something deep inside him recoiled.

But that was foolishness. This was the right choice. Everything would be well. Everything would go back to normal at the break of dawn.