“Do I?” She smiled. “I assure you no one is more surprised at that than I.”

His gaze searched hers. “There is so much more to you than you would have people see.”

“I imagine that could be said about any of us.”

“I very much want to kiss you, India Prendergast.”

“Still?” She stared up at him.

He chuckled. “Apparently.”

“Why?” It was the first thing that came to mind.

“Any number of reasons, I suspect.” Bewilderment shone in his blue eyes, then resolve. “None of which I wish to detail at the moment.”

“But—” She glanced around. No one seemed to be paying the least bit of attention to them. “Here? Now?” Her pulse sped up.

“We are on the top of the world.” His gaze slipped to her lips and back. “I can’t think of a better place or time.”

She swallowed hard. “But there are a great many people here.”

“And yet.” He stepped closer. “I see only you.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. “Everyone will stare.”

“Let them.”

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. “Kissing in public, Derek, that’s highly improper and, well, scandalous.”

He shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Of course not, you’ve done worse.” She shook her head. “But I care.”

“You said you didn’t care about what other people think.”

“I lied.” She sighed. “Besides, it’s pointless.”

“Pointless?” He narrowed his gaze in confusion.

“There can never be anything between us.” This was much harder to say than she’d imagined. “I believe we agreed on that.”

“I don’t recall agreeing to anything quite that absurd.”

“It was implied.” She turned back toward the view. “When we discussed the type of woman you are expected to marry. I am not that woman.”

“Nor do I believe I said anything about marriage.” Amusement sounded in his voice.

“I am well aware of that. I am not so stuffy as to believe a kiss is a commitment to eternity.”

“God forbid.”

She ignored him. “But a kiss is more than just a frivolous moment. At least it should be. And it is for most of us. Perhaps not for you.”

“I have always liked frivolous moments.”

“And I am not the least bit frivolous. I have always thought a kiss to be something of a...a promise.”

“A beginning then?” he said cautiously.

“Well, yes. But as anything between us other than friendship is impossible, it seems foolish to begin something that cannot end well.”

“I don’t understand this at all.” He paused. “Have you never been kissed, India?”

“I am not in the habit of randomly kissing gentlemen.” Or kissing anyone at all.

“There is nothing random about this. As I have already confessed, I have given the idea of kissing you a great deal of thought. And more so in recent days.”

“Well then perhaps spontaneous is a better word.” She shrugged. “As I assume you did not plan for this particular moment.”

“No.” Frustration sounded in his voice. “And while it might have been spontaneous a moment ago, I assure you the spontaneity of it has passed.”

“Then you no longer wish to kiss me?” She held her breath.

“Oh, I still wish to kiss you.” He heaved a resigned sigh. “But this is obviously not the right moment.”

“Obviously.” She ignored the unexpected disappointment that washed through her. “If that’s settled then...” She had the most absurd desire to flee. “If you will pardon me for a moment, I wish to...um...see the view elsewhere...” She turned and stepped away, circling around the tourists in her path.

Good Lord! She stopped short. What on earth was she running from? She was nearly thirty years old and had never been kissed! She’d never so much as given it a second thought before, but now it struck her as truly awful. And somewhat pathetic. And shouldn’t she do something about it? Carpe diem, after all.

Before she could think better of it, she swiveled on her heel and marched back to Derek.

“Yes?” His brow rose.

She grabbed the lapels of his coat, rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The most remarkable spark of something electric and quite wonderful shot through her at the feel of his warm lips against hers. He smelled vaguely of warm spice and tasted faintly of lemonade and summer.

She released him, stepped back and caught her breath. “There.”

“There?” He looked as taken aback as she felt.

“Now I have been kissed on the Eiffel Tower,” she said with a surprisingly firm nod given something had replaced her stomach with a quivering mass of aspic.

“On the contrary, my dear Miss Prendergast. I have been kissed on the Eiffel Tower. You have not.”

“You did kiss me back.”

“A natural response to being kissed, but you caught me by surprise.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “It was not my best effort.”

She frowned. “The, well, quality of the kiss cannot be blamed on me. Indeed, I thought it was...”

“Adequate, no more than adequate. And you’re absolutely right—it cannot be blamed on you.” He pulled her into his arms and stared intently down at her. “But my dear Miss Prendergast, this can.” He pressed his lips to hers.

For a moment, she froze. Then unexpected heat swept through her, and she thought she would surely melt into a small puddle of heretofore unsuspected sensation and something...more. He angled his mouth harder over hers. Her lips opened slightly, and her breath mingled with his and...and adequate was the farthest thing from her mind. And she knew without question or doubt, this kiss, this moment, this man would linger in her thoughts, in her heart for the rest of her days. Still, it wasn’t a promise or a beginning, it was no more than a foolish error in judgment.

She pulled back and struggled to catch her breath. “People are staring, Mr. Saunders.” She stared up at him. “You should, well, release me, I think.”

“I thought you didn’t care what people say?” He stared down at her.

“I don’t care what they say. I care what they see.” She drew a deep breath and pushed out of his arms. “This was...” She shook her head. “A dreadful mistake.”

“What?” His brows drew together. “Why?”

“Because I am...” She impatiently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Eroding as it were. With every minute, you are wearing me away. What I think. How I feel. The rules I have always lived my life by.” She shook her head. “And this cannot end well.”

“Why?”

“You know why!”

“No, I don’t.” He glared at her. “And that nonsense you keep bringing up about the type of woman I am supposed to be with is nothing but...nonsense. Complete and utter foolishness. And you are far too intelligent to believe that.”

“It’s simply the way things are.” Her voice rose. “You can protest it all you want, but you cannot deny the facts of it.”

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not what this is about at all.” He studied her intently. Realization dawned on his face. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

As much as she had decided he was, somewhere deep inside, a decent man, he was also right. “I’ve made no effort to conceal that.”

“I understand your reticence to trust me when we first met. Now, however, I thought I had proved myself to be most trustworthy.”

“Somewhat, I suppose, perhaps, but—”

“But it doesn’t matter, does it?” He glared at her with equal parts anger and disbelief. “You haven’t trusted me from the beginning, and you are unwilling to bend so much as the tiniest bit to admit that just possibly, once again, you were wrong.”

“That’s not entirely fair.” She raised her chin.

“The world is not fair, India—remember?”

“I...” She stared at him for a long moment. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss whatever feelings she—or he—might have. Nor did she have any idea what to say. This was not the kind of problem she knew how to solve. She straightened her shoulders. “I have no desire to discuss this further. Any of it.”

Someone behind them cleared his throat, and Derek stepped back. The most awful sense of mortification swept over her, and she did so wish she was the type of woman who fainted.

“I should like to leave now,” she said coolly.

“And I should like to take another turn around the platform.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “And the discussion is far from over.” He nodded and strode off.

She turned back to the endless view of Paris and stared unseeing into the distance. Somewhere, in a part of her mind not oddly still and numb, she noted people continuing to move past her. She heard excited comments about the view and the remarkable nature of the tower. The world, even here at the tallest manmade pinnacle, continued as it always had, as it always would.

But India would never be the same. Something inside her had changed. Twisted. Shattered. The question was why, and she had no answer. Regardless, it seemed to hold a great deal of pain.

Derek returned a few minutes later. “If you’re ready...”

“More than ready,” she murmured and accompanied him toward the elevators. They joined the crowd waiting for the next ride down.

The ride to the ground, including the changing of elevators, was fraught with tension. As if they were each tied to the end of a taut rope that neither could break or ease. The silence between them on the return to the house was broken only by an occasional terse question on his part or hers. They’d originally planned to explore some of the exposition but neither now seemed inclined to do anything other than retreat to Lord Brookings’s house.

For the first time in her life, India didn’t know what to say and thought it best to say nothing. She was by turns angry, regretful and astonished. None of this would have happened if he had not announced he wished to kiss her. Why on earth did he have to do that? What was he thinking? And if he really wanted to kiss her, why? Did he harbor feelings of affection for her? Perhaps he should have mentioned that. And why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? About him?