A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)

Genevieve had a horrible suspicion that Mr. Evans was kind. In a self-effacing, untheatrical way that contrasted with his amiable languor and urbane charm.

After Magdalen College, the crowds thinned. She kept hold of his arm, although it was no longer strictly necessary. She even found, wicked girl she was, stolen excitement when his body brushed hers.

“Genevieve?”

Her name from his lips set up an enjoyable inner ripple. She’d given up insisting that he call her Miss Barrett. She was starting to feel silly addressing him as Mr. Evans.

“Shall we do that?”

From his tone, she guessed that it wasn’t the first time he’d asked the question. Curse her blushing. “Do what?”

She sought the familiar mockery, but his expression conveyed fondness. While a somnolent heaviness in his blue eyes acknowledged the anticipation simmering between them.

“If his mother agrees, I’ll pay George for a few hours each week under Williams’s supervision.”

Mrs. Garson would welcome the money and the chance of advancement for George. Genevieve couldn’t imagine her saying no. Even if she was inclined to refuse, when Mr. Evans stared at Mrs. Garson the way he currently stared at Genevieve, she’d happily sell her son to the Grand Turk. Yet again Genevieve warned herself to beware this man’s wiles. But here on this sunny street with his long stride matched to hers and his deep voice shooting secret thrills through her, her barriers crumbled.

“That’s a good idea.”

“Capital.” He smiled. “That’s settled.”

It struck her that today produced yet another miracle. She’d managed a perfectly civil discussion with Mr. Evans about a matter of common concern without one whisper of hostility or innuendo.

Ahead the river sparkled. The velvet pelisse, suitable for an early departure, made her skin prickle with heat. She’d kill for a cup of tea. She supposed Mr. Evans meant to walk for miles. He’d packed a breakfast of rolls and cheese which they’d shared on the way—another sign of thoughtfulness; today abounded with them. That makeshift meal seemed a long time ago.

He drew her to a stop beneath a willow. She appreciated the shade and glanced around with interest. She loved Little Derrick, but it was exhilarating to visit this bustling town, packed with tradesmen and shoppers and students.

A man approached, carrying a large closed basket. “Here you are, Mr. Evans. Everything as ordered.”

“Thank you, Tait. I’ll have the punt back before sunset.”

The man stowed the weighty basket in the bow of a long wooden boat that Genevieve only now noticed moored nearby. “You’ve paid for the whole day. And a mighty fine day it is. I can’t think of a better way to pass it than on the river with a pretty lady.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Mr. Evans said.

“Miss.” The man touched his hat and turned to leave, whistling.

“Mr. Evans?” she said faintly. “What are you doing?”

He smiled as he placed her satchel and his cane near the basket. “We’re never alone in Little Derrick.”

“Which is a good thing.” She folded her arms across her bosom and regarded him with disfavor that felt, more than usual, manufactured.

“Do you think so?”

She studied him under the brim of her bonnet. She told herself he manipulated her again, but nothing stifled her quivering awareness. Much as she hated to acknowledge it, the need to be alone with him had tormented her too. Here in Oxford, nobody was likely to report them back to Little Derrick.

“You won’t take liberties?”

His lips curved into that cursed appealing smile. “If I get too energetic, the punt will capsize. You’re safe.”

Excitement and uncertainty warred inside her. If she went with him, would he kiss her? She had a horrible inkling that she’d feel disappointed if he didn’t. “On your honor?”

He crossed his heart. “On my honor.”

She stared at him, wondering why fate dictated that she, plainspoken, difficult Genevieve Barrett, got to spend an enchanted afternoon with this gorgeous specimen of masculinity. He met her gaze as if guessing her decision.

Of course he guessed. He saw her trepidation, but he also saw her sensual curiosity. Sensual curiosity won.