Did she know him? She certainly looked as if she recognized him. Or maybe she just saw him for what he was, something of a libertine, no one with whom she ought to find herself alone.

He could not fault her for that reaction.

He did not knowher , of that he was sure. He rarely forgot a face, and he certainly would not have forgot hers. She was lovely in a wild sort of way, almost as if she belonged out here on the heath. Her hair was dark and probably quite curly; the few tendrils that had escaped her coiffure formed loose coils

that brushed against her neck. She looked as if she were easy to laugh, with an impish mouth—even now, when she was clearly flustered and embarrassed.

Most of all, she looked…warm.

He found himself curious at this choice of adjectives. He couldn’t recall using it before, not about a complete stranger. But she looked warm, as if her personality was warm, and laugh would be warm, and her friendship, too.

And in bed…she’d be warm there, as well.

Notthat he was considering it. For all her heat, she radiated virginity.

Which meant that she was very much off-limits.

Someone in whom he had no interest. None. He couldn’t even be friends with the virgins, because someone would undoubtedly misunderstand or misconstrue, and then there would be recriminations or worse, expectations, and then he’d find himself off at some hunting lodge in Scotland, just to get away from it all.

Sebastian knew what he ought to do. He always knew what he ought to do. The difficulty—his difficulty, at least—was in the doing it.

Hecould rise to his feet like the gentleman he was, point her in the direction of the house, and send her on her way.

He could, but what would be the fun in that?

Chapter Four

When the dead body said, “Good evening,” Annabel had to face the grim conclusion that it wasn’t nearly as dead as she’d hoped.

She was happy forhim , of course, not being dead and all that, but as for herself, well, his undeadedness was spectacularly inconvenient.

Dear Lord, she wanted to moan,the night only needed this .

She declined his offer of assistance, politely though it was made, and somehow managed to stagger to her feet without embarrassing herself any further.

“What brings you out on the heath?” the not-dead fellow asked conversationally, as if they were instead chatting in a churchyard, surrounded by all that was prim and proper.

She stared down at him. He was still reclining on the blanket—a blanket! He had a blanket?

This could not be good.

“Why do you want to know?” she heard herself ask. Which seemed to her to be proof that she’d lost complete sight of her sanity. Clearly she should have stepped around him and run back to the house. Or stepped over him. Or on him. But above all, she should not have engaged in conversation. Even if she ran right across the amorous couple in the garden, thathad to be less dangerous to her reputation than being caught alone with a strange man on the heath.

If he was planning to attack and ravish, though, he gave no indication of being in a hurry to do so. He just shrugged and said, “I’m curious.”

She looked at him for a moment. He did not look familiar, but it was dark. And he was speaking as if they had been introduced. “Do I know you?” she asked.

He smiled mysteriously. “I don’t think so.”

“Should I?”

At that he laughed, then said firmly, “Absolutely not. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a perfectly delightful conversation.”

From this Annabel deduced that he was a rake and well aware of it, certainly not appropriate company for an unmarried lady. She glanced in the direction of the house. She ought to go. She really ought.

“I don’t bite,” he assured her. “Or anything else you’d need to worry over.” He sat up and patted the blanket beside him. “Have a seat.”

“I’ll stand,” she said. Because she hadn’t completely lost her sense. At least she hoped not.

“Are you certain?” He gave her a winning smile. “It’s much more comfortable down here.”

Said the spider to the fly. Annabel only barely managed to avoid letting out a squeak of nervous laughter.

“Are you avoiding someone?” he asked.

She’d been looking back toward the house again, but at this her head whipped around.

“It happens to the best of us,” he said, almost apologetically.

“Areyou avoiding someone, then?”

“Not precisely,” he allowed, cocking his head in a way that was almost like a shrug. “It’s more that I’m waiting my turn.”

Annabel hadreally wanted to appear impassive, but she felt her eyebrows rise.

He looked at her, his lips curved into the tiniest smile. There was nothing wicked in his expression, and yet she felt it all the same, a shiver of anticipation, a hint of excitement pressing through her.

“I could give you the details,” he murmured, “but I suspect it wouldn’t be proper.”

Nothing that evening had been proper. It could hardly get worse.

“I don’t mean to make assumptions,” he continued smoothly, “but based upon the hue of your gown, I can only deduce that you are unmarried.”

She gave a quick nod.

“Which means that under no circumstances should I be telling you that I was out here with a woman who is not my wife.”

Oh, sheshould be scandalized. She really should. But she couldn’t quite manage it. He was just so charming . He oozed it. He was grinning at her now, like they were sharing a secret joke, and she couldn’t help it—she wanted to be in on the joke. She wanted to be part of his club, his group, his anything. There was something about him—a charisma, a magnetism—and she knew, she just knew that if she could travel back in time, and in space, she supposed, to Eton or wherever he’d spent his formative years, he would have been the boy whom everyone wanted to be near.

Some people were just born with it.

“Who are you avoiding?” he wondered. “The most likely candidate would be an overly eager suitor, but that wouldn’t explain your flight all the way out here. It’s just as easy to lose oneself in a crowd, and far less dangerous to one’s reputation.”

“I shouldn’t say,” she murmured.

“No, of course not,” he agreed. “That would be indiscreet. But it will be much more fun if you do.”

She pressed her lips together, trying not to smile.

“Will anyone be missing you?” he asked.

“Eventually.”

He nodded. “The person you’re avoiding?”

Annabel thought of Lord Newbury, and his pricked pride. “I imagine I have a little bit of time before he starts searching.”

“He?” the gentleman said. “The plot thickens.”

“Plot?” she countered with a grimace. “That’s a poor choice of words. It’s not a book anyone would wish to read. Trust me.”

He chuckled at this, then patted the blanket again. “Do sit. It’s offending every one of my gentle manly principles that you’re up there while I’m reclining.”

She gave him her best imitation of arch confidence. “Perhaps you should stand.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly do that. It would make it all so formal, don’t you think?”

“Considering that we have not been introduced, formality might be just the thing.”

“Ohno ,” he objected. “You have it all backwards.”

“Then I should introduce myself?”

“Don’t dothat ,” he said with the barest hint of drama. “Whatever you do, don’t tell me your name. It’s likely to awaken my conscience, and that’s the last thing we want.”

“You do have a conscience, then?”

“Sadly, yes.”

That was a relief. He wasn’t going to pull her off into the darkness, and he wasn’t going to maul her as Lord Newbury had done. Regardless, she ought to return to the party. Conscience or no, he was not the sort of gentleman with whom a young unmarried lady ought to be alone. Of that she was absolutely certain.

Again, she thought of Lord Newbury, whowas the sort of man she was supposed to be with.

She sat down beside him.

“Excellent choice,” he applauded.

“It’s just for a moment,” she murmured.

“Of course.”

“It’s not you,” she said, feeling a bit cheeky. But she didn’t want him to think that she was staying because of him.

“It’s not?”

“Over there.” She pointed toward the side garden, flicking her wrist in a little wave. “There’s a man and a woman, er…”

“Enjoying each other’s company?”

“Exactly.”

“And you can’t get back to the party.”

“I’d really rather not interrupt.”

He gave her a commiserating nod. “Awkward.”

“Very much so.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “A man and a man would be more awkward, I think.”

Annabel gasped, although she didn’t really feel the indignation she ought. It was far too intoxicating to be near him, to feel included in his wit.

“Or a woman and a woman. I wouldn’t mind watchingthat .”

She turned away, instinctively wanting to hide her blush, then feeling silly because it was so dark, and he probably couldn’t see it, anyway.

Or maybe he could. He seemed like the kind of man who could tell when a female was blushing based on the scent of the wind, or the alignment of the stars.

He was a man who knew women.

“I don’t suppose you got a good look at them?” he asked, then added, “Our amorous friends.”

Annabel shook her head. “I was really more preoccupied with getting away.”

“Of course. Very sensible of you. It’s too bad, though. If I knew who they were, I might have a better idea of how long they would take.”