On a Wild Night (Cynster 8)

Silence met the comment; she glanced back, met his eyes-knew precisely what he was thinking. She blushed fierily. "Not that. I'm not… indisposed." She looked away, lifted her chin. "Just a trifle jaded."

He'd thought she'd meant she was unwell, as ladies frequently were once a month. But she wasn't. Which meant there was a possibility… a possibility that hadn't occurred to her before, one that had her eyes widening, her wits whirling, her emotions seesawing.

"We have to talk." His murmur was definite. "But not now, not here."

"Definitely not here, not now." She fought an urge to fan herself. Drawing breath, she faced him.

He was watching her closely; he studied her face, then said, "Meet me tomorrow morning at five o'clock at the end of your street, as before." He hesitated, then smoothly rose.

She looked up at him. "And if I don't?"

He looked down at her. "If you don't, I'll come knocking at your father's door."

Voices reached them. He looked up; Amanda swivelled, peeked around her parasol. Reggie and Amelia were approaching, arguing. She looked back.

Dexter-Martin-had disappeared. Pushing away from the seat, she stood, searching the surrounding lawns, but he'd vanished.

Amelia and Reggie drew near; she turned to greet them.

And wondered if the victory had been Dexter's, or hers.

Chapter 10

Neither, she decided, as she slipped from the house at five o'clock the next morning. True, he'd come into society to seek her out-she considered that hugely encouraging. But even there, he'd insisted on clinging to the shadows; it seemed prudent to meet him halfway.

He stood waiting at the corner, the horses' reins in his hand. Hearing her footsteps, he looked up; his gaze scanned her, then he moved to the mare's side. She went to him, smiling. "Good morning."

He met her eyes, then reached for her; his fingers flexed about her waist and he paused… then lifted her to the saddle.

By the time she'd settled her feet in the stirrups, he'd mounted and was waiting. Muting her smile, she turned the mare and they headed for the park.

Once inside, they set the horses cantering; noting the real pleasure lighting her face, Martin held back the words burning his tongue and led the way to the track. As usual, they raced; as usual, exhilaration dominated the moment-that zest for speed, for power, for indulging in unbridled wild-ness they shared.

At the end of the track, they slowed, turned aside, caught their breath. Then she set the mare walking, not to the gate, but into the secluded ride they'd used for discussions before. He noted the conciliatory gesture; he didn't imagine that meant she was ready to listen to reason. He nudged the roan in the mare's wake, and set his mind to honing his arguments.

Deep in the ride, completely screened, completely private, Amanda drew rein. She glanced at him as he came up and raised an inquiring brow.

He captured her gaze. "We need to get married."

Both delicately arched brows rose. "Why?"

He hung on to his temper, refused to grit his teeth. "Because we were intimate. Because you're a gentlewoman, one of a noble house not known to practise laissez-faire in such matters. Because I'm of a noble house and think the same. Because society demands it. Do you need more reasons than that?"

She met his gaze directly. "Yes."

An absolute, unshakable yes. Unwavering resolution invested her blue eyes, determination finned her chin. He recognized the signs, but was at a loss as to their cause.

He glowered at her. He opened his lips-

She silenced him with a shake of her head. "Only you and I know we were intimate-there's no reason to feel you've ruined me." She held his gaze. "I was a perfectly willing participant, in case you've forgotten."

To his eternal irritation, he had-or rather, he couldn't remember enough to be sure. "Be that as it may, in circles such as ours-"

She laughed and set the mare ambling. "You've rejected 'our circles,' so you cannot claim their strictures matter to you now."

He gritted his teeth, spoke through them as he set the roan after her. "Regardless of my attitudes, you haven't rejected those circles-their strictures do matter to you. Your life-the life you should live-is very much bound by society's dictates."

She glanced at him; despite her easy smile, her eyes were watchful, serious.