Always a Scoundrel by Suzanne Enoch

hallway.
    “Wasn’t it? Apologies. I told you I didn’t have much practice with that.”
    “Yes, but now your family will think you and I are…up to something.”
    “We are.”
    “No, we’re not.” She pulled her hand free. “Nothing nefarious, anyway.”
    He smiled, the expression astoundingly handsome on his lean face. “‘Nefarious.’ That is a splendid word.” Pushing backward, he slipped through a door. “This way.”
    Scowling, Rosamund followed him. Whatever he was up to, he still offered her the best chance of learning something—anything—that could help her not feel so frightened and ill whenever she set eyes on Lord Cosgrove. “You are…” She trailed off as she caught sight of the large, square tapestry mounted on the north wall of the library. “That’s magnificent. How old is it?”
    “It supposedly depicts the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Very old, I would say. August knows more, but I warn you that he’ll talk your ear off if he has the chance.”
    Rosamund looked at the vivid reds and golds and greens woven through the tapestry. Old, familiar curiosity pulled at her, but not because of the ancient artwork before her. “What did you need to tell me?” she asked. “Clearly we’re not here to talk about the tapestry.”
    “No, we’re not.” Silently he closed and latched the door, then crossed the room to her. “I didn’t want to dothis.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Another thing at which I don’t have much practice.”
    Her own heart had begun thudding the moment she heard the library door close. “What are you talking about? Have you changed your mind about helping me?”
    “No. I’m talking about self-restraint.” Bram took a short breath. “You’ve never been kissed, you said.”
    Oh . She swallowed hard. “That may not have been a proper kiss that Lord Cosgrove gave me, but—”
    “No, it wasn’t. It doesn’t count.”
    His gaze held hers. She was tall for a female; she’d certainly heard that from her mother often enough. But she still had to look up to meet his dark eyes. Not for the first time, she wished she knew what he might be thinking.
    “A kiss is about intimacy,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke the back of his forefinger along her cheek. “Cosgrove stepped past the line where you felt comfortable, and he did it deliberately.”
    Rose’s mind seized on the word “intimacy.” Bram had made himself an ally. Whether he was one she would have chosen under other circumstances, she had no idea. She’d certainly been ready to hate him a few days ago. But since actually meeting him, he’d surprised her by being astute, intelligent, and witty, and by being more of a gentleman than certain others she’d met at the same time.
    “You haven’t given me much time to consider this,” he continued, “but I see only one way to make you more comfortable with a man’s advances.”
    “Oh, yes?” Her voice sounded breathy and nervous even to her own ears. Of course she probably wantedhim to continue much more than a proper lady in her circumstances would ever have admitted.
    “Yes.”
    Bram took one slow step closer. His gaze still holding hers, he cupped both her cheeks in his palms, leaned down, and touched his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed of their own accord at the soft caress. When he retreated an inch or so, as though assessing the taste of her to see whether he liked it, she felt…disappointed. Still, that was much better than what she’d felt with Cosgrove. And under the circumstances, it had been almost honorable.
    “That was—”
    He closed on her again. His mouth sought hers, molded to her, soft and persistent at the same time. Desire, shocking in its sudden heat, speared through her. Goodness, he knew how to kiss. Rose gasped, putting her hands on his chest to push him away as she should. But she didn’t want him to stop. Instead she twisted her fingers into his lapels and pulled herself up on her toes to