Alex shuddered, almost completely out of control. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that this had to stop. They were kissing in the open. Ruining Charlotte’s reputation didn’t seem a propitious way to start a marriage.

So, without saying a word, he rocked back on his heels, swiftly turned Charlotte about, and pulled her into his lap. Then he wrapped his arms around her from behind and willed his heart to slow down. She remained absolutely stiff for a moment, and then relaxed, collapsing against his chest.

Alex rested his chin on top of her fragrant hair. His fingers, willy-nilly, trailed down over the front of her gown. “Charlotte,” he said, his voice deep as black velvet, “I will give you a week to accept my proposal. After that I’ll probably have to snatch you out of your bedroom myself, just to keep my sanity.”

Sensing her intake of breath, he folded his fingers firmly over her mouth. “No.” They sat quietly for a moment and then he felt small even teeth biting his fingers.

“Oh, dear,” he sighed. “I forgot I am marrying a woman who has already cut her milk teeth.”

But actually Charlotte couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She knew, with blinding clarity and acute humiliation, that she would have made love to this man right here, in the sunshine of Hyde Park, next to the willow pond, without a single protest. In fact, she’d probably make love to him anywhere he proposed. She shuddered slightly.

When he pulled her to her feet, Charlotte finally summoned the courage to meet his eyes. What she saw made her heart bound. Alex didn’t look ironic, or sarcastic, or jeering. Instead, his eyes were an intense, fierce black. He didn’t look at her as if she were a hoyden, but as if she were a drink he would never tire of.

He didn’t touch her, just ran his thumb over her eyebrows. “Do you know that we have the same eyebrows?” he asked. “Do you suppose it is this similarity that has driven me mad with desire both of the times I’ve met you?”

Charlotte restrained an impulse to correct him. They had met three times—but how could she possibly say, don’t you remember? You ravished me in the gardens of a ball, three years ago. A large hand cupped her chin, forcing her face up.

“We’re getting married,” Alex said conversationally, smiling at her. He frowned when he saw the tiny crease between her brows. “Are you engaged? Already married?”

She shook her head.

“Then,” he said with supreme confidence, “we’ll be married by special license a week from today.”

“No,” said Charlotte.

“No?”

“No, my lord,” she said, and turned to walk back toward the waiting carriages.