Honoria took a long, shaky breath, then let it back out. She brought one hand to her mouth, capturing the last puff of air, and then squeezed her eyes shut. For a moment, he thought she might cry, but then he realized she was just doing what she needed to contain her emotions. Sorrow? Fury? He couldn’t tell, and for some reason this struck a stake in his heart.

He wanted to know her. He wanted to know her completely.

“Well,” she finally said, “he’s coming back shortly, so you are absolved of your responsibilities.”

“No.” The word came from him like an oath, emerging from the very core of his being.

She looked at him in impatient confusion. “What do you mean?”

He stepped forward. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. He knew only that he couldn’t stop. “I mean no. I don’t want to be absolved.”

Her lips parted.

He took another step. His heart was pounding, and something within him had gone hot, and greedy, and if there was anything in the world besides her, besides him—he did not know it.

“I want you,” he said, the words blunt, and almost harsh, but absolutely, indelibly true.

“I want you,” he said again, and he reached out and took her hand. “I want you.”

“Marcus, I—”

“I want to kiss you,” he said, and he touched one finger to her lips. “I want to hold you.” And then, because he couldn’t have kept it inside for one second longer, he said, “I burn for you.”

He took her face in his hands and he kissed her. He kissed her with everything that had been building within him, every last aching, hungry burst of desire. Since the moment he had realized he loved her, this passion had been growing within him. It had probably been there all along, just waiting for him to realize it.

He loved her.

He wanted her.

He needed her.

And he needed her now.

He’d spent his life being a perfect gentleman. He’d never been a flirt. He’d never been a rogue. He hated being the center of attention, but by God, he wanted to be the center of her attention. He wanted to do the wrong thing, the bad thing. He wanted to pull her into his arms and carry her to her bed. He wanted to peel every last inch of her clothing from her body, and then he wanted to worship her. He wanted to show her all the things he wasn’t sure he knew how to say.

“Honoria,” he said, because he could at least say her name. And maybe she’d hear what he felt in his voice.

“I . . . I . . .” She touched his cheek, her eyes moving searchingly across his face. Her lips were parted, just enough so that he could see the pink tip of her tongue darting out to moisten them.