What was Sam doing in her father's study? Ivy chewed on her lower lip while trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for why a guest would breach the family's private quarters upstairs. Nothing came to mind.

"Why did you leave the party?" she asked when he hadn't answered her previous question. The way he was staring at her made her fidget. His face looked mysterious and handsome in the flickering light of the lone candle in his hand. Wasn't this how the heroines in her gothic novels always ended up in trouble? By walking in on things they were not meant to see?

Sam set the candle holder down on the desk before crossing the study to where she stood just inside the room. Saying nothing, he closed the door behind her, leaving them in shadows with only the light from the candle on the opposite side of the room. Something inside her lurched awkwardly as she looked up at him. She could just about make out his features in the faint light.

Yes. This was definitely how those heroines got into trouble.

"S... Sam?" She silently cursed herself. She hadn't meant to use his given name. It was highly improper to do so, but she had unwittingly started thinking of him as Sam, and it had simply slipped out.

Instead of admonishing her for the social faux pas, he lifted his hand to brush his knuckles against her cheek. It made her skin burn like he'd scorched her with fire, but she couldn't move, too enthralled by the sensation.

"Ivy," he said, his voice a velvety whisper in the dark, and there was another lurching feeling inside her. "I came up here hoping to find you after I noticed you had left."

"Oh." Her brain felt sluggish, too focused on the fiery trail he was tracing down her cheekbone and jaw to pay much attention to anything else. "I had a headache and the constant chattering of so many people was making it worse."

Her breath hitched when he used two fingers to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Why was he standing so close? A tantalising hint of whichever soap he favoured tickled her nose and made her want to bury her nose in his neck to get a better sense of what it might be.

"What—" She cut herself short, shocked by the squeak that was apparently her voice. Taking a shaky breath while trying to ignore the hand that still lingered just below her ear, playing with a strand of hair, she tried again. "What do you mean, you came to find me?"

Silence stretched out between them. One heartbeat. Two. Was he not going to answer?

"Ever since I first met you," he finally said, his voice quiet. "I cannot stop thinking about you. I know it's only been a few days, but you occupy my thoughts constantly. Day and night."

"Me too," she admitted shyly, secretly pleased that no one in the crowd of unmarried young ladies downstairs seemed to have caught his interest. Craning her neck, she tried to make out more of his facial features in the semi-darkness, but there was no telling what he might be thinking or feeling. "But why risk coming upstairs?"

His hand by her ear twitched before sliding along her jaw to cup her cheek. It was warm against her skin, despite the blazing blush that burned her face.

"I had hoped to steal a kiss," Sam murmured, his head lowering towards her but holding still an inch apart.

Their breaths mingled while Ivy tried to gather enough wits to say something. Anything. Nothing came out other than a shaky exhale of air. Panic and exhilaration swirled through her, locking her jaw. This could not be happening. Was this happening?

When she didn't slap him or run screaming from the room, he brushed his lips over hers. Carefully. Hesitantly. As if he expected her to bolt at any moment the way his horse had bolted from Darcy a few days ago. But she had no inclination to leave. Not when his soft kiss sent delicious shivers of awareness through her very being and her body instantly leaned into him, seeking more of the same.

Sam lifted his head to stare at her, his eyes dark pools in the faint light. She profoundly hoped that wasn't all because it had been far too brief. When nothing else happened, she couldn't contain the nervous excitement any longer.

"Is that it?"

A flash of white told her he was grinning before she could hear his quiet chuckle. "It probably should be. This was a risky move on my part."

Not entirely sure how she dared be so brazen—perhaps because her lips still tingled from the touch of his kiss—she lifted a hand to play with the lapels on his black evening jacket. "But we're already here now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We might as well take advantage of our moment alone."

When he hesitated, she added, "You went through all this trouble to find me..."

A groan escaped him before his mouth was back on hers. Kissing. Exploring. When his tongue stole across her lips, she melted against him. His hands slid down to grasp her waist, pushing her gently against the door to the hallway. Fire burned hotly inside her, and she threaded her fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head. This was so much better than the quick kiss Farmer Jackson's son had stolen from her a couple of years ago during the harvest festival. She never wanted it to stop.

There was a soft thump against the door behind her. Followed by light scratching. Sam pulled back slightly, and she had to fight the urge to drag his mouth back to hers. But there was no time. They had been found.

"What was that?" Sam asked.

"Darcy," she muttered. "We had better let him inside. If we don't, he will start whining and someone might hear him."

There was another scratch at the closed door. Sam stepped back, allowing her to open it enough to let the dog inside. Seeing his mistress, Darcy's tail whipped happily back and forth. Ivy leaned down and scratched him behind the ears. As much as she had wanted to continue kissing Sam, she couldn't be angry with this cute face. Looking back at the man still hovering behind her, she offered an apologetic smile he most likely couldn't see in the dimly lit room.

"Sorry. You should probably go back downstairs before they miss you."

Sam glanced at the candle on her father's desk. "You can leave first," he offered. "And I will follow in a few minutes."

"No, it's better that I stay here while you go back to the party." She ruffled Darcy's fur a little more before standing. "I came to find a book, anyway. And there will be much fewer questions if I'm discovered in here."

For a moment, she thought he would argue with her, but then he nodded. "Yes. That makes sense." Preparing to leave, he looked at her. "When will I see you again?"

She couldn't hold back a smile. Was he too hoping for another opportunity to kiss? "If not before, definitely at the Ravenscroft ball."

He reached out, his fingers gently caressing hers for a mere moment before he stepped away. "I'll see you soon, Ivy."

Rubbing the hand where he'd touched her, she nodded. "I look forward to it, Sam."

He opened the door, and after a quick glance outside to make sure there was no one in the hallway to see him leave, he disappeared. Ivy stared after him for a moment before lifting her hands to her mouth to stifle the excited scream that could not be held back. Darcy cocked his head to the side like he wondered what was wrong with her. There were no squirrels near to be this excited about.

"Sorry," she muttered to the dog, but she couldn't stop grinning. Sam had kissed her! And it had been glorious.

Sam had made a terrible mistake.

Lying in bed the next morning, staring up at the ceiling while trying to gather the will to get up, he mentally kicked himself in the arse for making such a stupid mistake. He never should have kissed Ivy. He had known it was a bad idea even as he leaned closer to her and the titillating scent of her lily of the valley perfume tickled his nose. And he'd known it was a terrible mistake the moment she melted against him.

He could still imagine her in his arms. Her soft lips pressed against his. Oh, hell. He covered his face with his hands and groaned. Ivy was turning out to be a distraction he didn't need. And he could not allow himself to forget that her family was involved in the blackmail of Lord Highwood, whether indirectly or in a more sinister capacity. Using her to get closer to them was getting trickier and trickier. He didn't want to hurt her, but she would inevitably be unhappy if she ever found out he was there to investigate her family.

Kissing her had been a bad idea.

A terrible idea.

But so enjoyable. Too enjoyable. If her dog hadn't interrupted them, he wasn't sure he'd have remembered to stop. Wasn't sure he had wanted to stop.

When she caught him in her father's study, his brain had stalled until he remembered the young woman accosting him downstairs. So he had taken a leaf from her book. And now he was stuck with the memories of Ivy pressed against him, her lips yielding beneath his.

With a frustrated huff, he threw off the bedcovers and sat up. He needed to focus on what was important, and as enticing as the memories of kissing Ivy were, they were not it. There had been a hidden compartment in Mr Edwards's desk with something inside it. He needed to get back inside the house, inside the study, to examine exactly what that was. It was obviously important enough to hide, which automatically meant it was important enough for Sam to want a look.

But gaining that access was easier said than done. The only time he knew the whole family would be out was during the Ravenscroft ball, and they expected him to attend that. Would he be able to sneak away, go to Orchard Cottage, and return with no one noticing? He would have to investigate how far it was between the two estates and how long it would take him to walk the distance. Ideally, he would prefer to go on horseback, but that would be difficult to arrange without help.

It was with renewed energy and purpose he grabbed his prosthetic leg and lined it up with the stump a couple of inches below his knee. He could lace up the leather section around his thigh without paying it much attention these days, having lost the leg some three years ago now during the Battle of Waterloo. Fragments from a case shot had hit his foot and ankle, effectively shattering the bone of both. He'd been lucky that it hadn't hit higher, or he might have lost a lot more of the limb.

Walking over to the small washbasin with fresh water a maid had left earlier, he dragged a hand through his tousled hair. Sleep had not come easily to him last night. And it was not because of any lingering nightmares or phantom pains. No, it was all because of one Miss Ivy Edwards. She was even worming her way into his dreams now. He had better solve this case soon, so he could be on his way before she could do more than that. Or he did more than kiss her.

Mr Newton had said he could borrow a horse if he wished to go for a ride, and he might take the man up on his offer. Riding had always been something he enjoyed—and he had been good at, something which had solidified his decision to join the Dragoons—and he was grateful it was something he could still do. A ride would be the perfect excuse to see the exact distance between Ravenscroft's estate and Orchard Cottage.

Maybe he would stop in and call on a certain young lady. It was only polite after last night, wasn't it? It had nothing to do with the memory of her warm body against his or the sweet sound of her breathing changing its cadence when he kissed her. Absolutely nothing.

He smiled wryly at his reflection in the mirror as he splashed some water on his face. Lying to the world was one thing, but when had he started lying to himself?

~~~~~~