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but love was that strong sensation of being drawn inevitably to him. And of him being drawn to her.
    For he was drawn to her, like a magnet. The attraction between them was almost palpable, and she was amazed that there wasn’t some visible sign, like a shower of sparks when his hand brushed hers.
    The earl had been very respectful, of course, merely holding on to her a little longer than necessary after a dance, and once very lightly brushing her cheek while replacing a flower that had fallen out of her hair. On that occasion, she had been surprised that her hair didn’t catch fire.
    How could she feel this way about someone other than Giles? Why didn’t Giles, who was so dear to her, not create such passionate longing? How could she be so foolish as to fall in love with someone so handsome and so sophisticated. She was surprised, over and over again, when Rainsborough continued to call, continued to send little gifts, and continued to send her violets once a week. When he approached her, she felt so special and valued that it was hard to keep only a polite response on her face. She knew that her eyes gave her away. But she couldn’t help it.
    She began to wonder if she and Giles were too close. Maybe a long friendship was not as good a foundation for marriage as she had always thought. Maybe they had both taken their parents’ wishes too seriously. After all, passion was a most important ingredient in a marriage, wasn’t it? When Rainsborough invited her for a stroll in the garden, she went without even a backward glance.
    * * * *
    It was a warm night, and the scent of roses perfumed the air. They seemed to be the only couple outside, and when Rainsborough took her hand and led her away from the center of the garden, Clare almost stopped breathing. When they reached the garden wall, the earl released her and they stood there for a moment before being drawn inexorably toward one another.
    Rainsborough did not need to reach down and tilt her face toward his, for Clare’s face was already lifted, her lips parted and ready for his kiss. As soon as he touched her mouth, she was lost. Never had she felt such desire. Never had she felt so desired by someone else. Not even Giles. For one moment, she could see her old friend’s face, and then the kiss wiped everything else from her mind. And when he finally released her, Clare thought she would die from the disappointment.
    “Lady Clare ... I don’t know what came over me.” She had never seen the sophisticated earl at a loss for words before. “I admit I brought you here to steal a kiss or two, but didn’t intend this.” He gazed down into her eyes and took a deep breath. “Perhaps I did,” he admitted. “From the first moment I saw you, you have had an effect on me that no other woman has ever had.”
    Their kiss had gone far beyond what was allowable, and Clare knew she should feel outraged. But instead she only felt so wanted. And she wanted him in return. She wanted his mouth on hers again, she wanted to run her fingers through his thick black hair, and she wanted to be in his arms.
    Rainsborough reached out his hand and stroked her hair lightly. “I had intended a far lengthier courtship, my dear. Indeed, I feared I could not win you. I know you are almost promised to Lord Whitton.” He traced her cheek gently with his finger. “Would you consider marrying me, Clare? I do not ask because I should after a kiss like that, but because I am not sure I can live without you,” he added in a hoarse whisper.
    She had thought herself the only vulnerable one. He was wanted by every woman in London, and for weeks she had expected one or another of them would take him away. That such a current of attraction flowed between them continually surprised her. She was always expecting it to disappear as quickly as it had come.
    She had expected his kiss. She had even halfway known how strong would be her response. What she had not expected was the expression of insecurity on