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A light breeze blew, ruffling the stray curls that had escaped from Meredith’s tightly coiled hair. She resisted the temptation to set them back in place, afraid the gesture would bring more attention to herself.

“Have you filled your lungs sufficiently with fresh air, Lady Meredith?”

The marquess sounded bored. She stiffened her spine and lifted her head, reminding herself the bet he had made with her brothers revealed much about his attitude and opinion of women.

If nothing else, it would give her a great sense of satisfaction to make a sufficient adjustment to that pompous attitude.

Abruptly she cleared her throat and waved vaguely at the French doors leading to the ballroom. “Please don’t feel obligated to stay out here on my behalf, my lord. I understand perfectly if you wish to return to the party.”

She suspected that was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was unpredictable enough to call her bluff.

When he did not reply, Meredith decided to tempt the fates once more. She moved forward slowly, then called over her shoulder to the marquess, “The enchanting fragrance of the garden beckons, my lord. I fear I must indulge myself.”

She sailed blithely down the stone steps, listening intently for the crunch of his footsteps behind her. As the silence lengthened, Meredith slowed her gait, but she resisted the urge to turn around.

She might be stubborn and occasionally willful, but she had her pride.

If the marquess followed her into the darkness of the secluded garden, she would make every attempt to kiss the man senseless and win this outlandish wager.

And if he did not, well, perhaps the loss of this bet would make an impression upon her brothers as to the fickle nature of gambling.

And perhaps pigs would learn to fly!

Meredith sensed a restless shifting behind her, then breathed a sigh when she heard the telltale crunch of a shoe upon the gravel. He was following her!

Eyes alert, Meredith strolled along the path. The marquess kept silent pace behind her. They did not speak, and she was glad, for she had long since run out of conversation.

What Meredith sought was privacy, for to be caught in the act of kissing the marquess would be disastrous for them both. A vague recollection of a pretty gazebo tucked away in a secluded area of the lawn had Meredith eagerly scanning the shadows with each step she took.

She nearly cried out with delight when she at last spied it. Meredith lifted her skirt and trod up the wooden steps of the structure, ducking her head to avoid becoming tangled in the hanging vines. She took a seat on the wicker sofa inside and waited.

He did not immediately follow her but instead stood outside the open-air gazebo. Through the silence of the still night, Meredith could clearly hear the sound of her own breathing.

“Tired, Lady Meredith?”

“A bit.”

She heard the note of sarcasm in his voice, and oddly understood it. Viewing the situation from his side, Meredith admitted her behavior the entire evening had been somewhat vexing. Mysterious and flirtatious, she had been poking him, jabbing at him, prodding him like a sleeping tiger.

With each request, each offhanded suggestion she had tweaked his curiosity, then resorted to silence. It was only a matter of time before the beast within him awoke and roared, and Meredith knew she must be prepared to jump out of harm’s way or be devoured.

The marquess at last climbed the steps to the gazebo and took a few short steps inside. He folded his arms over his chest and glared down at her. Even in the semidarkness she could see his confusion.

Meredith turned her head and stared out into the darkness. She clasped her hands together tightly, wiggled her fingers free, then clasped them together again.

“Why are we here, Lady Meredith?”

“To enjoy the night air, my lord.”

“I think not.” The marquess lowered his head wearily and moved forward.

He took a seat on the wicker sofa and Meredith slid over to allow him room. A tension permeated the air. Meredith admonished herself to behave with sensibility and calm, though there was little of that regarding what she was about to do.

It had been at least a year since she had been kissed. She struggled to remember the subtle approach used by the many men who had wooed her, who had attempted a seduction and received a cool set down for their efforts.

Sweet, flowery phrases and forceful embraces would hardly work in this instance. What was needed was directness, yet the very idea nearly gave her hives.

She risked a glance at him. He appeared not to notice, for the marquess gave a small sigh and stretched out his long legs. For a moment she relaxed. All I need to do is wait. Before long he shall lean toward me, pull me into his embrace, and kiss me.

The notion was equally thrilling and comforting. But then Meredith clearly remembered the subtle nuances of the bet. It must be the spinster who kissed the rake. If that aspect of the wager was not met, she could not claim victory.

She turned expectantly toward him and her heart lurched.

When she had lured him out here, her mind had been fixed on winning that ridiculous bet and proving to herself that she was not a prim and proper spinster.

She intended only to steal a hearty, passionate kiss and then flee into the night before the marquess had time to recover his wits.

But as she gazed at his handsome profile in the semidarkness, she found herself wondering what it would be like to really kiss him, deep and slow and tender, with an intimate coupling of their tongues—to hold nothing back, to surrender completely to the hidden passion that lurked within her soul.

Knowing she had to act quickly, before her courage failed, Meredith moved closer to him. Her eyes remained fixed on his lips. He opened them to speak.

“Would you care to—”

Meredith lurched awkwardly forward and cut his words off with a kiss. For an instant she felt him stiffen—in surprise she fervently prayed, not revulsion.

She tried to keep the kiss light and soft, but she quickly found herself giving in to the temptation of his masculine beauty, sinking into the embrace, giving herself over to the emotions and excitement.

The marquess slanted his head to fit them closer together. Then his hand cupped the back of Meredith’s neck, drawing her forward. His hard lips softened, then opened slightly, allowing her to deepen the kiss.

Titillated at the invitation, Meredith slid her tongue inside, tasting the warmth of his mouth. A faint moan escaped. His? Hers?

She tried to ignore her quickening breath, the flush of desire that rushed through her. Her breasts began to swell, and a damp, tingling sensation fluttered between her legs.

In her heart, Meredith knew she should end the kiss. The bet had been well and truly won. There was no need to continue the physical contact.

Yet the event seemed to have taken on a life of its own that had nothing at all to do with the wager. As Meredith pressed her lips urgently on his, her hand reached up to touch his face. Her fingertips glided over the smooth line of his recently shaved jaw, enjoying the feel of his skin.

He gasped at her intimate touch. Meredith felt him tug urgently on the bodice of her gown.

The marquess loosened several buttons and it gaped open.

She cried out as he lowered his head and took the nipple of her left breast into his mouth.

He tasted, licked, and suckled. Liquid heat curled though her body as his mouth and tongue feasted on her exposed flesh.

The faint sound of laughter and muted conversation drifted through the stillness of the night and reached Meredith’s ears. Good heavens, what am I doing?

“My lord! My lord!” Desperately she fought to retain a piece of her sanity, a modicum of her pride and dignity.

The marquess lifted his head briefly, nuzzling the sensitive hollow of her neck.

His lips moved higher, once again finding hers in a long, slow, thorough kiss.

The heat inside her grew. Reality seemed to fade away.

When he finally drew back, Meredith nearly forgot why she was trying to end this incredible interlude.

“My lord . . . my lord . . . please, oh, please . . . Trevor . . . stop, we must stop or else we shall be discovered.”

He paused for a moment. His breath was coming in shallow gasps, and she noticed with awe that the hand reaching out to caress her cheek trembled slightly.

“You are a lovely surprise, Lady Meredith,” he whispered, his tone laced with wonder.

“Your flesh feels like silk beneath my fingers, so soft, so smooth, so perfect. What a heady temptation you are, my dear, passionately responsive, sensually giving, a delight far too tempting to ignore. Are you certain we must stop?”

His eyes moved with undisguised longing over her still exposed breasts.

Heat flooded Meredith’s cheeks. She was an idiot!

How pompous and naive she was to think she could control a man of his sexual appetite and experience.

She felt like an utter fool for allowing her wits to be swept away on a sea of pure desire.

“We could be discovered,” she whispered.

For a moment she thought he would argue the point with her, but then he nodded. “I shall have my carriage summoned so I may escort you home.”

“No!” Meredith declared.

Traveling alone with him in a dark, secluded carriage was unthinkable.

She might as well lean back against the sofa and allow the passion stirring between them to ignite into full desire.

The marquess was far too tempting and she was feeling too strange and puzzled by the encounter to risk being alone with him in such a private, intimate setting.

“You cannot return to the ball.” He reached for her.

“Don’t.” She drew back in alarm.

He straightened and pulled away. Meredith got the absurd impression she had somehow insulted him. “I’m only trying to help, my dear.”

She followed his pointed gaze and looked down at her chest. The bodice of her gown gaped open. Her naked breasts were completely exposed. Her hands, clumsy with nerves and embarrassment, fumbled with the fastenings. In the end it seemed easier to allow him to aid her.

Silently he tied the ribbons of her chemise and buttoned her bodice closed. Oddly, it felt almost as intimate as when he had unfastened her garments.

“Thank you.” Meredith rose unsteadily to her feet.

It felt cowardly and rude to leave so abruptly. But she did. Against the protests of the marquess, with her pulse galloping and her head whirling, Meredith raced along the winding walkway, through the garden, and beyond the tall hedge.

She reentered the house by a side door. Thanks to the crush of people, she was easily able to slip into the crowd. Her aim was to find her brothers and insist they leave immediately.

However, too late, Meredith drifted by one of the many gilded mirrors that lined the edge of the ballroom and caught a glimpse of her reflection.

Her cheeks blushed bright with color. Her lips were red, ripe and swollen, her eyes bright and feverish. Tendrils of her normally tightly wound chignon were curling haphazardly about her face. But worst of all, the exposed area of flesh above breasts was flushed and marked.

By the marquess’s possession.

In the mirror, Meredith met her own eyes and grimaced. She should have listened to him and avoided the ballroom. Desperately she glanced at the French doors on the opposite side of the room. It was the closest means of escape, yet at this moment they seemed very far away.

Knowing she had no choice but to brazen it out, Meredith moved forward.

Keeping her head low and her feet swift, she chose the most direct path, circling around the dancing couples.

As she neared her goal, Meredith dared to let out a soft breath, thinking she had made it, vowing to herself she would never again do anything so dim-witted.

Her hand reached out eagerly for the brass handle, but then a shrill female voice filled the air. The Duchess of Lancaster stood directly in her path. Meredith nearly shouted out loud at the unfairness of it all.

“We meet again, Your Grace,” Meredith said evenly. Her hand fell to her side and she straightened her spine. “Are you enjoying the ball?”

“Apparently not as much as you are, Lady Meredith.” The duchess wrinkled her nose, then frowned. “ ’Tis not difficult to know precisely what you have been doing tonight. However, I would very much enjoy knowing with whom you have been spending your time and bestowing your favors.”