“My just desserts,” Patrick replied. “Nothing to worry about.” He reached up and captured her hand, bringing it to his mouth. Then he turned it over and brought her palm to his lips with exquisite gentleness.

“I have formally asked your father for your hand in marriage,” he remarked, his eyes twinkling at her.

“You have?” Sophie’s mind seemed to have become rather dizzy again.

Patrick didn’t want her to know the cold truth, which was that she had no choice in the matter of marriage since the moment she had succumbed to his kisses. He had been struggling with his conscience all morning—in fact, ever since he left Brandenburg House last night.

“Will you marry me, Lady Sophie?”

Sophie wasn’t paying much attention. Patrick’s lips were caressing the center of her palm, and for some reason that simple touch was making her knees weak. “Yes,” she said rather faintly.

Patrick frowned. “I am genuinely sorry that our actions last night curtailed your choice of marriage partners,” he said formally. “However, I feel sure that you and I will rub along just as comfortably as you might have with Braddon.”

Sophie’s eyes wandered over Patrick’s wanton black curls and deep-set eyes. What was he talking about? She would never be “just comfortable” living with him. In fact, the whole idea of sleeping in the same house with Patrick—in the same bed—sent a thrill of anticipation from the very top of her head to her toes.

What she really wanted was for him to wrap her in his arms again, the way he had last night. As if he read her mind, Patrick pulled her gently forward.

“Sophie.” His voice was insistent. “I truly want to apologize for preventing your marriage to Braddon. I know you were excited about being a countess.”

She looked up at Patrick in disbelief. Did he really think she was so shallow that it mattered what title her future husband had?

Before she could say anything, Patrick bent his head and captured her lips, drawing her up against his body. He’d been aroused ever since she’d walked into the room, even given that sacklike morning gown she was wearing.

As Patrick’s hands danced among her curls, pulling out the carefully arranged loops and ribbons that Simone had spent so much time on earlier in the morning, Sophie didn’t say a word. She melted against him, trembling as her breasts crushed against his chest and his mouth dipped languorously into hers again and again. Somehow her arms entwined themselves around his neck. When Sophie’s tongue timidly met his, Patrick let out an oath and pulled her arms from his neck, moving back a step.