He leaned over her, weight propped on one arm, then pulled back slightly and feathered kisses over her lips, teasing her until she moaned, a tiny broken noise that drifted into the midnight stillness. Sophie turned her head and tried to capture his lips, tried to bring him back, make him take her mouth again. Patrick’s lips burned on hers, but lightly, danced up her cheekbone, pressed kisses on her eyelids, returned to her lips. She gasped, the breath hot in her chest as he finally took her mouth again, his tongue stabbing in and out, his thumb roughly rubbing her nipple through her nightgown.

A strangled whimper burst from her throat, and yet … and yet … Somewhere in the depths of her, she didn’t want to feel this with Braddon. Even if Braddon was—somewhat surprisingly—capable of arousing this passion, she still didn’t want to be Braddon’s wife.

So she turned her head, sharply, and half croaked, “No!” When his lips pursued hers, and his tongue swept liquid fire down into her belly, Sophie sobbed or panted, but still she whispered “No,” and “No, no, no.” Finally small hands pushed at Patrick’s chest and she sat up, staring straight ahead. Her betrothed stayed where he was, balanced on his side, propped on one elbow. She could feel his thoughtful gaze on her, but she didn’t look.

“It doesn’t make any difference, Braddon,” Sophie gasped, catching her breath. “I don’t know why … why we’re doing this, but I still don’t want to marry you.” She stared ahead rigidly, not moving as large hands moved delicately among the long curls hanging down her back. When there was no answer she finally, reluctantly, turned.

Her heart stopped.

The hood was gone, and in the faint moonlight … Well, her body had known it wasn’t Braddon all along, but now her eyes saw the sweep of long eyelashes and silver-tipped hair, the devil-bent eyebrows and square jaw…. Her mind grasped slowly what her body had known long ago, if only from the touch of his hands, from the press of a hard-muscled thigh through her gown.

“Oh,” she whispered, the word falling on the night like a baby breathing in his sleep.

Patrick smiled back at her lazily, one eyebrow raised, his right hand still caressing her hair. Then the hand wrapped itself in silken strands and tugged, gently, pulling Sophie’s warm body back onto the bed.