His low chuckle sounded deliciously dangerous. “Saucy wench. You know perfectly well.”

Without taking his gaze from her, he put down his glass, did the same with her flute, and then gathered her into his arms. Their mouths joined in a deep kiss that flared like wildfire through her veins. The magic of the moment surpassed the entirety of the ball, thrilling her far more than dancing, drinking champagne, and even meeting a prince.

Her arms wreathed around his neck, she arched to Hadrian, craving the pressure of his hard body against her softness. The urgent caress of his hands on her face and back suffused her with intense joy. She was exactly where she belonged, in the embrace of the man she loved. How strange to think that little more than a month ago, she hadn’t even known he existed. Now it had become difficult to imagine her life without him.

He broke the contact to glide his lips over her cheek. “My God. I’ve been wanting to do this all night.”

“Mm. I’ve been wanting to do it for the past two weeks. Especially this.” She swirled her hips against him.

His chest vibrated in a choked laugh. “You know why we mustn’t … unless you’ve changed your mind about us.” Just like that, the ambience grew serious as he cupped her face in his hands. “Have you, Natalie? Have I convinced you to accept my offer of marriage?”

Aware of his watchful gaze in the shadows, she ached to say yes. They could spend the rest of their lives together, raise a family, enjoy that rapturous intimacy again and again. After tonight, she felt confident that she could fit into his world without having to relinquish her core beliefs. Even her attachment to America held far less sway over her heart than he did. Yet she could not commit herself without laying to rest one niggling doubt.

“Do you love me, Hadrian?”

His fingers tensed around her cheeks; then he dropped his hands to her shoulders. Much to her dismay, he seemed uncomfortable with the question. “Of course I care for you. I wouldn’t want you as my wife otherwise.”

Care seemed a pale shadow of true, abiding love. “There can be many reasons why you find me appealing that have little to do with love,” she said, forcing herself to enumerate them. “Perhaps conquering me is a challenge, or perhaps I’m an antidote to the shallow ladies of society. Perhaps what you feel for me is merely an intense passion. But that isn’t enough. Without love as the bedrock in our marriage, you may tire of me eventually and turn your eyes to other women.”

“That’s absurd. You must know I’m not so dishonorable.”

A part of her desperately wanted to believe that. Yet how could she be sure? “It’s the way of the aristocracy. My father was a bastard. Sir Basil may have sent him to the best schools, but the fact remains that my grandfather was a notorious libertine in his younger days. So, tell me honestly that you don’t know any married noblemen who keep a mistress on the side.”