Even contemplating how Giles would respond to her story made her instinctively flinch, just the way he had after the suggestion that people might gossip about the two of them.

“It’s growing cold,” Yasmin said, turning around. “I’m wearing fewer layers than you are, and my next dance partner will be looking for me.”

He began to remove his coat.

Yasmin raised a hand. “Don’t—”

She changed her mind as the earl’s broad shoulders emerged, clad in linen so fine that she could see the contours of his chest. His muscled chest. “On second thought, I am chilled.”

Even his shoulders had pads of muscles on them. It was something of a revelation. Most of her suitors had slim silhouettes. Even Hippolyte—with the ease of long practice, she dismissed that thought.

Giles shook out his coat and wrapped it around her. Unlike ladies—such as his sister—who piled all their hair on top of their head in a big puff, Yasmin let a few strands fall over one shoulder. Her curls bunched against the collar of his coat, and he carefully drew them free.

In another man, it would have been a tender gesture, but Giles’s expression was verging on a glare. There was no rational reason to be so attracted to him, and yet his chilly gaze felt like a caress, and the touch of his fingers on her neck made her shiver.

What she needed was an older, cuddly version of Giles. “Cuddly” was a new-to-her English word, one that summed up so much, to Yasmin’s mind: it meant to hug or embrace, but also to be comfortable with.

Their silence was growing embarrassing. “You show to advantage without a coat,” Yasmin said. “Do you box?”

“Yes,” Giles stated.

A raindrop splashed on her cheek, and he reached out and brushed it away. Their eyes caught.

“You’re right. We should return,” he said, looking back at the mansion. The ladies had retreated inside. “Even if my sister had been imprudent enough to venture into the garden, she hates discomfort. Lydia would never play the coquette in this weather.”

“All right,” Yasmin said. She felt a bit shaken, unable to come up with another playful comment, her stock-in-trade. There was something about Giles’s uncompromising gaze that made it difficult to flirt with him.

Before she could move, his hands closed on her shoulders. Yasmin’s eyes widened at the sensual intent in his eyes, but she didn’t stop him when he slowly drew her closer, or when he leaned down, and his mouth touched hers. Their lips met and clung. He didn’t press her, and she didn’t open her mouth.

The man had no warmth in him and yet a brush of his lips sent heat racing down her limbs. One kiss ended and another began. Yasmin swayed toward him as his lips met hers in yet another chaste kiss that sent pure lust quivering through her body.

“You are so—” His voice broke off, but that raw, abandoned tone spoke for itself.