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night. You like the feel of it gliding across the cool pillow.”
    His words—so near, so intimate—tormented her. Did he mean to touch her or not? Eliza thought she’d go mad, wondering. Waiting. Fearing. Thrilling.
    “You asked what I want of you, Miss Eliza. It’s just this.” He came to stand before her. “I want you to know that there’s someone who sees you. The real you. The girl who can’t bring herself to plait her hair at night, because it pains her vanity. The girl who’d marry her sisters to tinkers and tailors, if it meant she could finally have a chance. The girl who longs to drive fast and free—to feel the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. The girl who’s clever enough to recognize a dangerous man when she sees one—but desperately wants him to kiss her anyway.”
    She closed her eyes tight.
    No, she wanted to protest. You have it all wrong. I’m not that girl at all.
    But she was that girl. At least part of the time. She wasn’t as selfish and vain as he made her out to be, but she wasn’t exactly good, either.
    “You’re interesting. I want you to know that there’s someone who sees all this, Eliza. And likes you for it.”
    She opened her eyes.
    His words…they were presumptive. Infuriating. And also the very thing she’d been yearning to hear for years. Her impetuous, yearning nature was the cause of all the unhappiness in her life. She’d spent years trying to deny or overcome that part of herself—all in vain. This man saw it anyway.
    And devil take him, he liked her for it.
    Perhaps her father was right about her. Perhaps men like this were her destiny. Wicked, dissolute scoundrels.
    He held out the nectarine, turning the uneaten half to her lips. His smile was subtle, but teasing. “Go on. I know you want it.”
    She did want it.
    She opened her mouth for a hesitant bite. He pushed the fruit forward, forcing her to take more. As her teeth sank through the ripe flesh, the tart-sweet flavor and heady fragrance of nectarine flooded her senses. The experience was succulent, sensual. And the way he watched her intently as she licked the sticky juice from her lips…it made her feel wanton.
    “Delicious,” he whispered.
    She nodded, dabbing her mouth with the heel of her hand.
    They stared at one another. The buzzing of a nearby bumblebee droned in her ear.
    He had her alone. Alone, with her hair unbound and her inhibitions destroyed. She’d given him leave to touch her however he wished.
    He could do with her whatever he pleased. They both knew it.
    “Now,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m going to catch up to Brentley and your sister and have a look at the ruins. Is your ankle healed enough? Will you join me?”
    She nodded, twisting her hair into a loose knot before accepting his arm.
    Once again, he’d refused to ruin her. But she sensed from the tense energy in his arm and the unevenness of his breath…walking away hadn’t been so easy for him this time.
    Interesting.
    If she were wise, Eliza told herself—if she had one shred of sense in her entire being—she would make certain of one thing, from this day forward.
    She would never again be alone with Mr. Wright.

My dear Brentley,
    Won’t you and your visitor join us Thursday next at Alderfield Lodge, for dinner and cards? Several other good families from the neighborhood have promised to attend. We shall be quite the merry group.
    Yours, etc.
    Lady Alderfield
    “M R. W RIGHT. ”
    Harry drew to a halt, turning abruptly toward a shadowy row of hedges. Hedges that seemed to be calling his name. He couldn’t be that drunk.
    A moonlit face emerged above the boxy wall of green. “Mr. Wright. I must speak to you. Alone.”
    “Miss Eliza Cade.” He bowed. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”
    In that moment, he regretted ever teasing her, because he meant every one of those five simple words. Sincerely. To see her was a true pleasure, and the degree to which he felt that pleasure was most unexpected. A