“Did I cause you discomfort? I know I am larger than some men.”

That explained why his parts didn’t match her memory or, for that matter, the illustrations in the cunning book she’d bought in Paris.

“Yes,” Yasmin said baldly. “I noticed your size.” She grabbed her skirts and pulled them down so she didn’t feel so exposed. Her inner lips were wet. There was a strange empty feeling inside her that she didn’t like either.

“Of course,” Giles said. He took out a handkerchief and offered it to her. “Grateful though I am that you were prepared for such an encounter, Yasmin, I cannot celebrate the quality of your French condom. I would have thought that the French were experts, but it seems the English are better in that respect.”

It was not her condom. Presumably, it was English.

She felt a hideous wave of embarrassment. Her inner thigh was wet. She needed a bath, and how was she going to explain her ripped smalls to her maid?

He was doing up his breeches, thankfully. Yasmin swung her legs off the daybed and stood.

“All right?” he asked.

“Of course.” He had such a sweet expression in his eyes, burning desire together with something that looked like affection.

Her eyes went to his waistline without conscious decision and sure enough, she could see the thick, long line of his cock under his placket, almost reaching his waist. “Still?” she asked faintly.

One side of his mouth tucked up. “Indeed.”

“You’re not—”

“Always, around you.”

His tool wasn’t the problem. In fact, she rather liked the look of him. But the act itself? Never. She would prefer to live with her grandfather and never marry. When was she going to inform him that she had changed her mind about marrying him?

Not now.

“Something went wrong besides the obvious,” Giles said slowly. “Yasmin?”

“I think we should return to Covent Garden,” she said brightly. “We did promise to buy some wool.” She stopped. “Actually, no. You may deliver the hat, but I have to bathe.”

He stepped closer. “I understand. May I have a goodbye kiss?”

“Of course.” She came up on her toes and kissed his mouth, her lips clinging to his for a moment. Even that tiny gesture sent a shock of desire down her legs. She would have to stay well away from him until she got over this infatuation.

Giles’s eyes were thoughtful. “I had something more like this in mind.” He tipped her chin up; the touch of his hand sent a prickle through her. He lowered his head so slowly that she had time to notice that his irises had turned silvery. No, green.

Her mouth instinctively opened, welcoming his tongue, his taste, the silky, sensual way their tongues slid together. The absolute opposite of the—the rest of it. Yasmin pushed the thought away. If this was their last kiss—because she’d have to tell him at their next meeting that she’d changed her mind about marriage—she might as well enjoy it.