He would do something to repair the repressed look he saw in Rosamunde Baird’s eyes. He might not be able to completely restore her standing in the ton, but he could lead her down the path of delicious, unbridled pleasure.

He looked deep into her stormy eyes, the same color of the warm waters off the West Indies. “Well, I’ve formed a plan. First, chocolate three times a day. Then, an adventure, like today’s, which you shall endeavor to endure. You shall just have to learn to love idleness and leisure, my dear. I assure you it has its merits. But first, I do believe we should correct one deficiency before the adventure begins in earnest.”

“Kissing. The deficiency in kisses. You know, the thing that separates us from the beasts.”

“I had thought that was reason or compassion.”

He ignored her. “Good. I didn’t hear a ‘no.’”

“But this is impossible. I’m in mourning.”

He defused her with a steady look.

“And besides, perhaps I don’t even like you.”

“Me? You don’t like, me?” he raised his quizzing glass to his eye.

Her eyes sparkled with laughter. “Your Grace—”

“Luc, if you please, in private.”

“I—I just can’t afford to risk—”

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“My dear, what have you to lose that you haven’t lost already?”

He could see in her eyes that there was something more on her tongue, but wild dogs wouldn’t tear it from her.

She finally sighed. “Only my mind. But, what have you to gain from this . . .this ridiculousness?”

“Why, bragging rights. I shall best you at every turn. Let me show you.” He lowered his lips to hers, and she tentatively kissed him back. It was such an innocent, young girl’s kiss that it was all the more poignant, and his gut twisted like a sail caught between shifting winds.

Excerpted from "A Dangerous Beauty" by Sophia Nash. Copyright © 2007. Reprinted by permission of Avon Books.