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her past the dimly glowing garden lantern under the laurel tree. He plucked one of the blooms, gave it to her, and, smiling in the shadows, maneuvered her back against the slim tree trunk.
    She held the flower awkwardly, neither wanting it nor knowing what to do with it as Domenic ran his hands lightly up and down her bare arms.
    “Come, Allegra. We are going to be man and wife. You’re going to have to get used to my touch, you know.” He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
    “What a perfectly vulgar thing to say,” she murmured, blushing as she turned her face away. “Isn’t that why a gentleman keeps a mistress?”
    “When a man has a wife as beautiful as you, trust me, mistresses are unnecessary. Tonight all I want to do is kiss you. That’s not too much to ask, is it?” His strong hands molded around her shoulders in a firm but gentle caress. “You may find we are more compatible than you have yet suspected.”
    “I fear you have had too much to drink, my lord.”
    “Not until I drink from your lips will I be sated,” he whispered.
    “That was well rehearsed. Did you practice it on your mistress?”
    He laughed. “I’ve gotten rid of her, Allegra. Darling, you and I have been engaged for over a month. A man’s entitled to kiss his betrothed.”
    “I am not comfortable with this.”
    “You will soon be exceedingly comfortable. I assure you.”
    He sounded very sure.
    “Oh, all right,” she muttered.
    He laughed softly again. Then, holding her gently, he lowered his lips to hers. It was not unpleasant, she admitted reluctantly to herself as she waited for him to be done. A long moment passed. He barely moved, brushing his lips against hers.
    “Very sweet,” he whispered. He began to kiss her cheek and lower, her neck. His embrace tightened, pulling her up slightly onto her toes.
    Hesitantly, Allegra slid her arms around his neck and looked at the starry sky through the laurel tree’s flower-covered branches, wondering how long this was going to take. She liked Domenic, there was no question, but when she dared close her eyes, she thought only of him .
    Her Prince, who would never kiss her, because he was not real. Ah, well. She didn’t particularly like the idea of any real man pawing her.
    Her betrothed began nibbling her earlobe oh-so-gently. That felt rather tolerable, she thought, opening her eyes again, alarmed by the pleasure, even more alarmed when Domenic slid his hands low down her back, inching toward her backside.
    She squirmed against him, pushing against his chest. “I think that’s enough.”
    “Not nearly enough,” he murmured, a roughened note in his voice. This time when he kissed her, his mouth was hard and hot, his hands holding her in place. He was pressing her back against the tree so hard with his body that she felt the hilt of his dress sword pressing against her.
    Then she realized he wasn’t wearing one.
    Oh, dear . She braced both hands against his shoulders.
    “Domenic, stop,” she began, only to have him thrust his tongue into her mouth when she parted her lips to speak, both his hands cupping her face.
    She had no idea what she was to do.
    This is absurd, she thought.
    Drunk or no, he was too smart not to see that all she had to do was tell her father about this and the engagement would be over—
    She froze.
    Of course he knew that. Suddenly she was seized with a diabolical realization. Domenic knew perfectly well she was determined to marry him for his position; therefore, he knew that, do what he may, she would not tell her father.
    “You shouldn’t have gone out to the square, darling,” he breathed raggedly against her skin, his grip rough. “There are men out there who will insult you, take liberties.” She heard ripping silk as he pulled at her dress and thrust his hand inside, cupping her breast.
    “Stop!” She tried to pull away, but he held her against the tree.
    One hand lightly bracing her by the throat, the other on her breast,