“You were jealous,” Yasmin prompted.

“Jealousy is a terrible emotion, not behooving a gentleman, a primitive, stupid instinct. My father was a complete gentleman. He loved me and Lydia, though we were likely fathered by different men. I never heard him say a cross word to my mother. I will not be as civilized. We will quite likely argue.” His gaze was unnervingly direct.

“Your father didn’t care about your mother, did he, Giles?”

“He was very fond of her.”

“Not loving, though.”

His lashes flicked. “Perhaps not.”

“That allowed him to be so gentlemanly. If you sleep with Lady Stella,” she said with a gasp, “I shall do something terrible.”

He was still crouched before her. “I have dreamed of dismembering Silvester, whom I’ve known since childhood,” Giles said flatly. “That is one reason why I didn’t come find you, Yasmin.”

“Didn’t you want to be with me?” She sounded pathetic.

“Of course I want you.”

Her heart sank. “I do know that.”

“Because I love you,” he said grimly. “Damn it to hell.”

After a moment of shock, a shaky smile crossed her lips. “Earls don’t curse. I have it on the best authority.”

“I’m no authority.” He shifted forward and went to his knees, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I can’t bear the idea of being apart from you ever again. I mean to tell you that I love you, morning and night and in between.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, the meaning of his words slowly filtering into her mind.

“Marry me. Please marry me. I want to wed you next Season with pomp and circumstance and the whole of polite society in the cathedral.”

Yasmin felt a surge of happiness so intense that it felt as if her skin prickled. “No.”

His eyes turned bleak, and she realized how much power she had over Giles. Over the man she loved most in the world.

“You don’t love me?”

“I love you. I’m in love with you.” She leaned forward, and their lips met.

She held his face in her hands, kissing him fiercely.

“Will you make love to me?” His voice was hoarse.

At her joyous nod, he moved the basket to the floor, stood up, and pulled up her skirts.

“Giles! I thought you meant in a bedchamber!”

“May I?”

She laughed.

A rip signaled silk smalls torn apart. Yasmin almost came with the first rough swipe of his thumb. She was wet and ready, had been from the moment he strode into the room. Shameful—but she refused to accept that emotion.

“God, I missed you,” Giles groaned out. He sat down, pulled her on top of him. “All right?”

Yasmin giggled. “I love it when my oh, so proper earl loses his head.”

Kissing her, he held her up and thrust inside, filling her so suddenly that she winced.

Instantly, he stilled. “Not good?”

“Wait,” Yasmin gasped. “A minute. I need to—I need a minute. What if someone comes in?”

“They would have no idea,” Giles said into her ear. “Look down, Yasmin.”