He knew it would be a matter of simply asking someone, anyone, what her scandal was, but for some reason he wanted to hear it from her. And he wouldn’t press until she felt comfortable enough to tell him.

“What do you wish to speak of, then?” he asked. “Or we can sit in silence. I will leave the decision up to you.” He wasn’t trying to tease her now.

For a moment, he thought she had made her choice because she was silent.

“Thank you,” she said at last, sounding surprised. “Not many men—that is, no man of my acquaintance—would leave any kind of decision up to a woman. Which is why I insisted upon it. But I hadn’t guessed you’d be so amenable.”

“As you’ve noted, I am a remarkable man,” Griffith couldn’t help but reply.

“A remarkably conceited one,” she said in a dry tone. “But I can’t fault you for that.” More silence as he wondered what she could possibly mean by that. “Which is why I choose to do this.”

And then she moved closer to him, putting her fingers on his jaw and turning his head toward her, bringing his face down to hers until, at last, she pressed her mouth against his.

Lady Della was kissing him.

Oh. She’d been thinking about doing just this, honestly, since the first time she saw him in that dingy pub by the docks. Even though she hadn’t wanted to admit it, not even to herself.

About how all that strength and size would feel in a moment of passion.

But her imagination could not live up to the reality.

Her fingers slid up from his face to his hair, and she tugged on some of the long strands, eliciting a soft chuckle in his throat. She could tell he was smiling against her mouth, and she drew his bottom lip between her teeth, biting gently before sliding her tongue inside.

His tongue met hers, but he didn’t immediately take over in the kiss; instead, he allowed her to explore, holding himself still as she devoured his mouth.

But she could tell he was affected, and holding himself back, because his hand was on her arm, his fingers gripping her so tightly she knew he would leave a mark. A mark she would bear gladly, a reminder that this attraction was mutual, and she had instigated it. He wouldn’t have, she knew that. Just as she knew that he felt it as strongly as she did.

Oh, but she’d missed this. Focusing entirely on a kiss, a caress, as though there was nothing else in the world. Nothing but the rumble of the carriage, of how his mouth was warm, and his tongue was now on the offensive, ravaging her mouth as though he was laying waste to all of her defenses.

Which she had to admit he was.