To Tempt a Rake - By Cara Elliott Page 0,61

brilliance of faceted diamonds against a black velvet sky.

She didn’t object when he sat down beside her.

“I imagine you are an expert at navigating by the stars,” he murmured, after gazing in silence at the winking points of light.

“Given a chronometer and a sextant, I can find my way to any port from the most remote spot in the ocean,” replied Kate in a small, unsteady voice. “It’s just when I reach land that I seem to have trouble getting my bearings.”

“Look there,” said Marco, tilting his head back. “That’s Orion just above us. Follow the line of his belt and it points to the North Star. Ursus Major is close by.” He paused for a fraction. “So you see,” he added softly, “wherever you are in the world, familiar friends are there to help guide you on your journey.”

Kate didn’t answer right away.

Marco sat very still, recalling with a pang the long-ago nights of youthful stargazing with his brother. The heady excitement of wondering where life would take them. Somehow he had strayed far, far from those times.

Could he ever find his way back?

“That’s a very astute observation, sir.” When finally she spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper. “You’re right—it should be easy. And yet, at times I can’t help feeling a little lost.”

“You are not alone in that, Kate.” He slid his hand across the rough stone and found hers. “I think we all feel unsure of our place in the universe.”

“Even you?”

“Si, even me.”

“That is hard to imagine,” she said wryly. “You always appear so self-confident, so supremely sure of yourself.”

“As do you,” he pointed out. “Perhaps we have more in common than you imagine.”

Kate gave a mock grimace. “I find it hard to think so.”

“Then don’t. Think, that is. Sometimes it is good just to sit and savor the present moment.”

Their fingers twined, and through the thin leather of her glove, the pulse of her heartbeat was warm and steady against his skin. The feeling was oddly comforting. Crickets chirped in the grass, and frogs croaked in the lily pond—the natural rhythms of the night in harmony with their own. A flutter of air wafted through the juniper needles, mingling the faint fragrance of pine with Kate’s own sweet scent.

Strange how all he ever sought from women was a willing partner in physical pleasure, mused Marco. A fleeting joining of flesh. Yet Kate touched him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Which was probably just as well.

Ye gods, that he, a practiced libertine and lecher, was turning sentimental over holding a lady’s hand—a gloved hand—was a sign that he wasn’t thinking straight this evening.

He rose abruptly, breaking the connection between them. “We had better return, before Cluyne sends out a search party. Or, rather, a hunting party, with orders to pepper my hide with buckshot.”

She slowly squared the hem of her kidskin glove. “Quite right. My grandfather is already annoyed at my disregard for the rules of propriety. I shouldn’t disappoint him again.” A look of vulnerability once again shaded her expression.

“Kate,” he began.

“You must stop calling me that. I don’t recall giving you permission to address me by that name,” she said coolly.

Their camaraderie was gone just as quickly as it had come.

“Formality seems a little absurd, given the intimacies we have shared, bella,” he said, resuming his usual sardonic drawl. “You are welcome to call me Marco.”

“I am sure you have plenty of women willing to utter their undying admiration, sir.” She dusted her hands and got to her feet. “You don’t need me to flatter your vanity.”

“Alas, I feel it shriveling by the second.”

Her lips twitched. “Good night, Lord Ghiradelli.”

At least he had managed to make her smile again. “I’ll walk with you back to the main walkway.”

“There are no predators here in Kent,” she pointed out. “I shall be perfectly safe traversing the ducal lawns.”

“Call it an attack of gentlemanly scruples, but I prefer to escort you to within sight of the terrace,” said Marco. “Tell your grandfather that I stayed behind to smoke a cheroot. It appears everyone has been enjoying a respite from the rules. I don’t think he’ll blister your ears with a scold.”

“Ha,” she said under her breath. “He doesn’t need much of a reason to find fault with me.”

His resolve to be distant and detached wavered on hearing the catch in her voice. Perhaps it was her damn perfume that was having such an unnerving effect on him.

Whatever the reason, he found himself saying,

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