death of her husband. She loves it, of course, but ye have not seen anything so beautiful until ye have seen my brother's estate and my childhood home, Moy Castle."
"Is the house as grand?" he asked, wanting to keep her talking with him for as long as he could.
"’Tis a castle, with turrets and numerous halls, a great hall that we still use frequently today and a loch of course. No Scottish estate is complete without a loch."
He chuckled. "I couldn't agree more. I hope to see it one day."
She met his eyes and held his attention. For the life of him, Sebastian could not look away. Somehow in the time they had been strolling, they had walked down an abandoned garden path, placing them out of view of the house and terrace.
Music drifted through the trees, and even though no lanterns hung here, he could still make out Elizabeth's pretty face from the moonlight above. She stopped, turning to face him before she reached up and pulled off her mask.
"Ah, that is better. ’Tis so hot under these things."
He ripped his own mask off, glad to be free of it. "I prefer to see you just as you are in any case." He took a step closer to her. "Do you know how stunning you are, Lady Elizabeth?"
She raised one brow, and he could see she was skeptical of his words.
"You do not believe me?"
One shoulder lifted in a delicate shrug. "I have not been the most sought-after lady in either England or Scotland. Do ye not see why I would be wary of such flattery?"
"Because of the name you were called in town. Lucky Lizzie, wasn't it?"
She flinched at the reminder. "It is partly because of that, but also that I have not known ye for long and ye may flatter every woman ye meet in such a way. I am no one special."
He reached out, unable not to feel her. Sebastian ran his finger across her jaw, tipping up her face to look at him. "You are wrong. So wrong. I think you're lovely." He did not know where the words were coming from. All he did know was that they were true. She was unlike any of the simpering fools who followed his coattails in London, hoping for a match. That she was cautious of him, not swayed by his pretty words, meant more to him than he thought they would.
She was different, and he was different when around her. The realization was humbling and telling simultaneously, and he needed to mull on that before their paths crossed again.
A shiver of awareness trembled down her spine at the feel of his touch. They were alone in the gardens, free from prying eyes, and his words, oh, such sweet words, were doing odd things to her stomach.
If she were as bold as Georgina, she would close the space between them and kiss Lord Hastings. The wicked glint in his eyes told her he would not be in opposition to such actions. "Ye think I'm lovely? I think ye may have had too much wine this evening." She grinned, trying to make light of a situation she wasn't entirely sure she had control of. Never had she been in such a position, never had any gentleman touched her so intimately.
It left her discombobulated and unsure of what to do next.
"I have had hardly any wine, my lady. It is not the wine that has intoxicated me."
Oh my. Had he really said such a thing?
"You are not fond of compliments, I think. Mayhap you have not heard enough of them." He reached for her, taking her face in his hands.
Elizabeth gasped, unsure what to do, what to say, or think. Was he going to kiss her? She'd never been kissed before, and now, in his arms, she could not think of anything she wanted more. He was so overwhelming, handsome, his dark-blue eyes and strong jaw, his lips that made her want to close the space between them and touch her mouth to his.
If only she could be so bold.
Like a dream, he slowly leaned down, and then his lips brushed hers. They were as soft as she imagined, and then the kiss changed. He closed his mouth over hers, his tongue slipping against her lips, and a heady ache settled between her legs.
Elizabeth reached for him, wrapping her arms about his neck and slipping into his arms. He let go of her face, wrapping his arms about her