Free Lord of the Rakes by Darcie Wilde

she displayed. If anything, he appeared pleased by her attention to the very personal details of his body. Certainly his voice was warm when he spoke again.
    “If I might make so bold as to inquire, Caroline, why did you invite me out here?”
    The question flummoxed her. Surely the meaning in her note, her lily, her simple presence here in the dark with him, was all perfectly plain. He could not possibly mean to make her say it. And yet he was clearly waiting for some kind of answer.
    “I was . . . I meant . . .”
    Philip raised one inquiring brow. The expression would have been coldly aristocratic had it not been for the dazzling smile that accompanied the gesture. At the same time understanding and not a little annoyance cleared the haze his presence cast over her thoughts. Philip was testing her. He wanted to find out what she would say, if she would be able to say anything.
    Abruptly, Caroline found herself remembering that moment of accord that passed between them. They did not need to speak then. They had simply looked at each other and understood they would together run toward the emergency, whatever it might be. He had not warned her to stay behind. He had not held her back when she leaped forward to intercede. He had trusted her to know her own mind and resources. Could she trust him now with a truthful answer?
    Caroline decided to find out.
    “I intended to seduce you,” she said. Propriety shouted at her from the back of her mind. This was too much, too far. No amount of darkness or daring could permit a lady to speak so openly.
    “To what do I owe this honor of being selected for your seduction?” Philip inquired softly.
    Good sense struggled once more to reassert itself. She must find a way to cover her coarse and wanton speech. She must force her gaze away from his body. She should look at the illuminated gardens, at the house and clouded sky—at anything except Philip Montcalm, with his long legs and silk breeches, which were really cut much too exactly to his measure.
    “Caroline?” Philip leaned forward. He did not touch her this time, and that restraint sent a rush of disappointment through her. “Will you tell me?”
    Caroline knew full well that she should spin some airy nothings to compliment his masculine virtues. She might perhaps speak coyly about the rumors of his irresistibility, but the coquette’s sophisticated pleasantries died on her lips. Once more, Caroline found herself wanting to know what Philip would do if she spoke the truth.
    “When you looked at me, I felt as if I had drawn breath for the first time tonight.”
    The words sounded unbearably clumsy. Dread at appearing foolish finally dragged her gaze away from Philip. Caroline had always been assured that a woman possessed of sufficient independence and sense could keep a tight rein on her feelings, no matter what the situation. The mindless attraction depicted in fashionable novels was a fantasy spun by and for foolish, dependent girls. Women controlled and channeled their passions, because the world did not forgive those who did otherwise. No one—not even Fiona with whom she had shared so many confidences—had warned her how a man’s smallest touch could set both heart and imagination running at a mad gallop, or that the emotions themselves could also be so seductive.
    “But now you are thinking of leaving me?” Philip murmured behind her. “You have changed your mind about my seduction?”
    Caroline turned. Seated as they were, Philip’s dark blue eyes were almost level with hers. Those eyes were widely spaced and framed by thick brows. His nose was long and straight. It would have looked too large had it not been balanced by his wide, clear brow and smiling mouth. Her mind filled with a fresh riot of desires and images. She saw herself removing her gloves and touching him with her bared fingertips. She’d touch his wrist, his angled jaw. She’d cup her hand around his knee, which was currently positioned a