Scoundrel Ever After (Secrets and Scandals) by Darcy Burke Page A

moved to the side of the building where a window was open and tapped her foot to the music.
    They ought to find Bassett Manor, but he couldn’t deny her a moment’s joy after their grueling journey. Nor could he deny himself the joy of watching her.
    The music stopped and then started again, but with a slower tune. A waltz.
    She turned toward him. “Have you been practicing?”
    He had, in fact. With some of the lightskirts at the Crystal, the flash house where he kept his primary lodging in St. Giles. They hadn’t been nearly as skilled or graceful as Audrey, but he’d closed his eyes and done his best to imagine her in their place. He realized he had the opportunity to enjoy the real thing. Perhaps the last such opportunity he’d ever have.
    He went to her and offered his most courtly bow. “May I have the honor of this dance?”
    She curtseyed in return. “You may.”
    He clasped her hand and splayed his palm against her back as he swept her into the dance. He’d practiced enough to make the steps without counting, but he still worried about stepping on her toes, as he’d done the first time she’d taught him.
    “You have been practicing. And with excellent results. You dance divinely, sir.”
    He resisted the urge to nuzzle the graceful column of her neck. “I had an excellent teacher.”
    “You seem the perfect gentleman.” Her tone had been light but now took a darker, more serious turn. She looked at him again with that infinitely warm and sympathetic gaze that threatened every wall he’d built around himself. “I’ll say it again, you can change what you are, who you want to be. Who you want to be with .”
    He knew what she was asking. Temptation hovered before him just as surely as the promise of brotherhood was luring him back to London. Both were a risk and he was no stranger to risk . . .
    “Ethan.” Her voice drew him back. Had she called him by his Christian name? No one save Jason had called him that since his mother had died. He’d been “Jagger” nearly as long as he could remember.
    The music seemed to fade from his ears as he looked into her eyes. He slowed until they were no longer waltzing. She touched his cheek. His smooth, unscarred, pretty-boy cheek.
    “Did you know I gave Jason his scar? I wish it had been the other way around.”
    She shook her head. “Why?”
    He smiled wryly. “A menacing facial disfigurement would’ve suited my lifestyle far better than his.”
    She brought her other hand up and cupped his face. “Don’t wish that. Don’t.”
    A part of him knew what she meant to do before she did it, but he was paralyzed by her touch, by the soft look of understanding and empathy in her gaze. And by God even if he could’ve moved, he wouldn’t have. He wanted her lips on his.
    She kissed him, her mouth pressing against his with an innocence sweeter than any delicacy he’d tasted during all of his decadent years as Gin Jimmy’s right hand. During that time, Ethan had evaded death countless times, always with a fervor for life and an absolute refusal to surrender, but right now he thought he might welcome his maker, for nothing could be closer to heaven than her. Nor had he ever wanted anything more.
    He wrapped his other arm around her and drew her up against him. Her tall, lithe body fit into his with sweet precision, as if their coupling was ordained by God himself. A silly notion, for God wouldn’t have paid any attention to Ethan Jagger.
    Her hands moved from his face to the back of his neck. He took the action as an invitation and slanted his head. With his lips, he applied pressure to her mouth, coaxing, teasing. He held her close, anticipating she might flinch as he licked along her lower lip. She surprised him again by clasping him more tightly. Her lips parted in another invitation he couldn’t refuse.
    He slid his tongue into her mouth. Cautiously, so as not to frighten her, he swept along her interior, relishing her velvety softness. She was hesitant,