“We shall be caught!” she whispered.

“I shall leave before that will happen, lovely,” he promised, “but first, I must return something to you.” He lifted his free hand and, in horror, she recognized the paper he held. Her list.

She lunged for it, and he easily held it away from her, forcing her to squirm across his chest, reaching for the parchment. She quickly realized that she was fighting a losing battle and stopped, turned accusing eyes on him. “You had it!”

“You needn’t look at me as though I stole it, lovely.” He spoke with mock affront. “You misplaced it. I merely rescued it for you.”

“Well,” she said, her voice sweet, “I am very lucky to have you as my savior, aren’t I?” She reached out for the paper. “I should like it back.”

“I shall be happy to oblige, of course,” he said, waving the paper idly in the air, “but don’t you think that, considering our new relationship, I should be let in on your little list? After all, I shouldn’t like to be taken unawares by your eccentric activities once we’re married.”

Callie’s eyes widened. “No! You can’t! You promised you wouldn’t look!” She wriggled against him again, resuming her quest to rescue her list from his clutches.

“Yes, well, that’s what you get for attaching yourself to a renowned cad,” he teased, groaning as her lush br**sts pressed against his chest. He stilled her with one hand. “Be careful, Empress, or I shall have to prove myself a rogue once more.”

She was filled with feminine understanding at the power her nakedness had over him. She slithered against him, deliberately rubbing across one of his ni**les, and reveled in the hissing sound of his breath. “Minx,” he growled, stealing her lips for a deep kiss. Ending the caress, he said, “No. You shan’t distract me. Let’s have a look at this list.”

Recognizing defeat, Callie buried her face against him, cheeks flaming, as he read the list. What would he think of her? What would he say? She waited, the hair on his chest tickling her nose, for him to respond to her ridiculous list.

He was silent for a long while. And then he said, “Which of these did you do first?”

And she wanted to die of embarrassment. She shook her head.

“Callie. Which one came first?”

She answered, the words muffled by his chest.

“I can’t hear you, love.”

She turned her head, pressing her ear to where she could hear the strong, steady beat of his heart. “Kissing.”

His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “The night you came to Ralston House.”

She nodded, face on fire. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Why me?”

He’d asked the question in his bedchamber that night, and she’d answered with a half-truth. But this morning, as dawn crept across the sky in long, pink streaks, Callie found that she did not want to lie. She wanted him to know her. Even if it risked everything.

“Because I wanted it to be you. From the beginning. I wanted my first kiss to be with you.”

“The other day,” he said quietly, stroking his hand along the soft skin of her shoulders, “at Ralston House. You said it had always been me. What does that mean?”

She stiffened against him, and he waited while she considered his question. She did not meet his eye when she said, “I’ve loved you for ages. For longer than I should have, I imagine.”

“How?”

She paused long enough for him to think she might not answer. “We met once. I was young and impressionable. You were charming and unobtainable and…I couldn’t help myself.” She looked away again, staring into nothing. “You’re rather difficult to ignore.”

“Why do I not remember?” he asked softly.

“I’m not exactly a legendary beauty.” A ghost of a smile flashed and her gaze fell to his chest, where her fingers idly stroked the smattering of dark hair there. “I’m rarely noticed, actually.”

He captured her hand, stilling it, and forced her to meet his eyes. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice you, Callie, but I can tell you that I was rather an imbecile not to have done so.” She caught her breath at the words, so honest, so forthright.

His eyes returned to the paper. “You have some items to cross off this list.”

She followed the direction of his gaze, reading. “Gambling,” she agreed, “I shall cross it off the moment I am again in possession of the list. Should that ever happen again,” she added meaningfully.

He looked back at her, his eyes dark and serious despite her attempt at lightheartedness. “Not just gambling, Callie. It’s time you realize how beautiful you are.”

She looked away at the words, but he captured her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his gaze again as he spoke. “You are, quite possibly, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

“No…” she whispered, “I am not. But it is very kind of you to say it.”

He shook his head firmly. “Hear me well. I cannot begin to list all the things about you that are beautiful—a man could lose himself in your eyes; in your lovely, full lips; in your silken hair; in your soft, luscious curves; in your creamy, perfect skin and the way you blush and turn it the color of an exquisite, ripe peach. And that’s without considering your warmth, your intelligence, your humor, and the way I am utterly drawn to you when you enter a room.”

Tears sprang to her eyes at the words—words she desperately wanted to believe.