Even that was not enough to penetrate the spell she’d cast.

Lettie angled her head to hold his gaze.

Reflected in her eyes was the very desire he felt, and her lashes fluttered closed as she tipped her head back.

His self-control proved as flimsy as his honor where this family was concerned.

With a silent groan, he lowered his head to meet the unspoken request. And he kissed her, devouring her mouth, taking her lips again and again.

As a whispery sigh escaped her, he slipped his tongue inside to swallow that sound, to hide it from the world so that he might keep it for himself.

Her form went weak against his, and catching her hips, he sank his fingertips into them, guiding her back against the wall.

She met each glide of his tongue first with a tentativeness and then with a growing boldness, until she was lashing that delicate flesh, engaging him in a primal dance.

“We must stop,” he rasped against her mouth, trailing a path of kisses lower, touching his lips to the shell of her ear and suckling that flesh that fascinated him.

“Why must we?” she entreated, running her palms over his arms, squeezing him through his shirt, gripping him tightly.

“Shh,” he whispered between every kiss of her skin.

There was something heady and erotic in the required silence of their embrace, even as the remnants of a cheroot sailed over the balustrade above, and their interloper’s footfalls retreated, and the door clicked, indicating they were alone once more.

Through the powerful haze of desire that gripped him came a cold, unwelcome rush of reality. Anthony abruptly released her, drawing back so quickly he sent the bushes rustling. He flexed his fingers to keep from touching her again.

As if her legs failed in their efforts to hold her, Lettie sagged against the brick wall.

She blinked slowly, a dazed glimmer in her eyes.

“This should not have happened,” he said.

She blinked. “Because I am Rhys’ sister?”

“Yes, because you are Rhys’ sister.” He tamped down a groan as the full ramifications of what he’d done hit him. If the other man hated him for that treacherous act with his former sweetheart, what would he do if he were to discover Anthony had his youngest sister backed against the wall like a common strumpet?

“He would not mind.” A strained laugh drowned out the rest of that naïve assurance she sought to give.

“That I had my mouth on yours?” he asked. “Oh, I think he’d mind. I think he’d mind very much.”

“I was…going to say if you courted me.”

He jerked.

A crimson blush filled her cheeks. “Not that I’m expecting you would court me because of a kiss. Because it was just a kiss.” Lettie glanced down at the ground and went uncharacteristically silent.

Court her.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.