Effie knew very well what she’d done. Her teasing words had been akin to throwing down a gauntlet. Being the man he was, Gabriel had no choice but to pick it up. She watched, heart beating hard, as a dozen conflicting emotions crossed his face at once. He was plainly at war with himself—half of him desperately wanting to resist her, and half of him wanting her full stop.

There was no question which half would prevail.

His expression became dangerously intent. No longer pale as ice, his blue eyes burned with an unmistakable fire. Still holding her chin in his grasp, he bent his head and kissed her.

Effie’s eyes closed as his mouth claimed hers. The last time they had kissed, she’d been overcome by sheer panic on the terrace. This time was different. Despite the terrible events that had preceded him taking her into his arms, she was in full possession of her wits.

Or as much in possession as she could be, given the circumstances.

She was alone with him in the darkened woods, far from the interference of chaperones or well-intentioned companions. He’d brought her here himself. Stolen her away to protect her from harm, just like some hero in a fairy tale.

Or possibly the villain.

Her unruly heart made no distinction. It threatened to leap straight out of her chest. She sensed the ragged grip he had on his control. Could taste his desire for her. It was there, in his touch and in his breath. A fierce, wild thing—ungovernable, unstoppable.

Her lips yielded eagerly to his. This was no time for calculated coquetry. Not after what they’d shared this evening. Indeed, the tragedy seemed to unleash something in them both, making them reckless, desperate.

How else to explain her feelings? She wanted him. Not just him holding her and resting his cheek against her hair. Not even him calling her love, or sweetheart, or darling—though her heart had marked every endearment. She wanted him. And why shouldn’t she have what she wanted for once? Why shouldn’t they both have it? Life was woefully short. It could all end in an instant.

He released her chin. His large hand curved around the back of her neck. His mouth was hot on hers, his kiss almost bruising.

Effie felt it everywhere, igniting her blood and turning her limbs to melted treacle.

She had read about kisses like these in novels. The sort of desperate, all-consuming kisses that made respectable young ladies shed their inhibitions and rush wantonly to their own ruination. But Effie wasn’t one of those passive, proper damsels. Despite her inexperience, despite the effect of his sinful mouth on her heart, her head, and even her knees, she had a keen sense of her own power in their embrace.

Leaning into him, she kissed him back as passionately as he kissed her.