“I thought you’d decided against joining me,” he ground out, reaching for his hat. He was holding on to his discipline by the thinnest of threads.

“I considered it,” she said, eyes wide as though she could sense his struggle, though she did not retreat. In fact, answering desire flashed in that dark green-gold gaze.

He groaned, nearly crushing the satin-edged brim of his hat. “Do you wish to go with me, Sarani?” he rumbled. “Because once we leave this house, I won’t let you out of my sight, out of my reach, until I’ve made you mine—ruined you—in every way.”

She shivered, but feral bright eyes lifted to his as she whispered, “Ruin me, then.”

This woman.

Grabbing her hand, he led her down the stairs to where his coach was waiting. The door hadn’t fully closed before he was upon her, his mouth crushing hers. God, her taste! Like sin and summer nights, like spice and sunshine. The blend, uniquely her, did him in. Sarani did not hold back either. Her fingers sifted into his hair, breasts smashing into his chest and erasing what little space there was between them, parting lips and legs to receive him. She’d never held back, not with him. Even as a girl, her kisses had been passionate, her response without artifice.

He wanted to see her come again, but this time not with his fingers.

“I’m sorry. I need to—” Rhystan tore his mouth from hers as he crashed to his haunches on the floor of the carriage, kissing along her neck and tugging at the fastenings on her cloak.

“Rhystan, what are you doing?”

He opened the upper garment, only to growl at the sight of the gauzy white fabric that molded to her slim legs and had no business being outside a lady’s bedchamber. “What are you wearing?”

“A night rail.”

Hell. He was so hard he nearly spent in his trousers. “A night rail?” he mumbled incoherently.

“Well, I was planning on going to bed.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “And then I got a more interesting offer.”

His hands moved, caressing the skin of her lower legs to the silken texture of her thighs. “What offer was that?”

“An offer from a man who once boasted to rob me of all speech.”

He groaned. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Gathering the soft fabric in one fist, he yanked her hem to her waist, another voracious sound bursting from him. Hell. She was going to kill him. No drawers. Of course no drawers, his asinine mind corroborated. She’s wearing a sodding night rail made of ribbons and dreams.