Without thinking, Mary's tongue darted out to wet her lips as she stared up at John. The way his gaze dropped to follow the movement made something unfurl inside of her, and she tried to remember why she disliked him so. With the light of the fire bouncing off his brown hair, and the way his thumb absently stroked the sensitive skin of her hand where he held her hand with the mask, she couldn't remember what frustrated her so much about him.

"If Hayes is suspicious of us," she said slowly, trying to gather her wits. Something that was not so easy when a handsome man stood so close, holding her hands in his. "What can we do?"

John's brows furrowed as he appeared to give it some thought, and then he cleared his throat. "Dash may have had a point. We stand out because we are not comfortable here. Not with the activities around us... nor with each other."

"I don't see what we can do about that," she muttered. "During this party, I have seen things I never have before. It is difficult to pretend it does not shock me."

"With it being our first time, that is probably the lesser of the worries." John made a face. "But we cannot hide us not knowing each other as... intimately as other couples."

Her cheeks heated, but she knew he spoke the truth. Compared to the couples downstairs who freely touched and kissed each other, they must stand out like two sore thumbs. If she looked even half as awkward as she felt whenever John placed a hand on her waist or attempted to fake affection, people must have noticed.

"So what do we do?" she asked. "Should we... Get better acquainted?"

His eyes widened and her cheeks burned even hotter. "I am not saying we should... Should..." Her words failed her. While she was straightforward and honest in most things, this was an area she was not well-versed in. Where her friend Nick might have forged on from sheer stubbornness, she floundered in a sea of unknowing. There had been books. And whispers between her married friends. But reality was something else entirely, and she was not forward enough to discuss these things lightly.

"Of course not," John agreed, having caught her drift. "You are an innocent, and as Dash so aptly pointed out, you must remain so."

"However," she mumbled.

"However..." His fingers trailed up along her ungloved arm, leaving a wake of gooseflesh in their path. "It may serve us well to get better acquainted and appear less awkward around each other."

She nodded slowly, uncertain if her voice would fail her as his fingertips moved on to trace the line of her clavicle. Her skin tingled in awareness, and her whole being seemed to hum in response to the simple touch.

"Only to make Hayes less suspicious, of course," she whispered.

John's gaze followed his hand as he continued along the decolletage of her dress, caressing the bare skin above the fabric. "Only to make Hayes less suspicious," he echoed quietly.

"I don't want you to if it's too much of an inconvenience, though."

"Of course," he replied automatically, then he blinked, and a line appeared between his brows. His eyes met hers. "Wait. What?"

She looked away, embarrassed by her lacking confidence. "I only mean.... I know I am not as pretty as Olivia. Or Rain. It is rare for me to receive any attention when attending balls with my friends. And I know you only kissed me because you had to earlier, so I just—"

Her words lodged in her throat as he tucked a finger under her chin and raised her face to his. "Mary," he said slowly. "Do not compare yourself to others. You are beautiful. And I very much enjoyed kissing you, and rather look forward to doing so again."

"I... Oh." She was blushing again. But how could she not? "I enjoyed kissing you, too."

His head lowered until she could feel his hot breath against her face. Amusement sparkled in his eyes. "This does not mean I do not still find you the most vexing woman of my acquaintance."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Nor that I do not find you incredibly dull."

"I'm glad we're in agreement," he whispered, and a moment later, his lips captured hers.

Warmth filled her, and she leaned into the kiss, desperately wanting more. She buried her hands in the thick hair at the back of his head and revelled in the feel of the silky strands between her fingers. To be allowed such liberties in a society that frowned if you danced too closely was a heady feeling. Excitement coursed through her as John wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to his hard, lean frame.

With a groan, his tongue slid across her lips, and the heat between them flared higher as he continued the slow, drugging kisses. She no longer knew if the warmth on her skin came from the fireplace behind them or the novel experience of being in John's arms. Maybe both. All she knew was that she didn't want it to stop.

She gasped when his hands cupped her bottom and pressed her hips against his. Something hard pushed against her abdomen, shocking her enough to wrench her lips from his. With wide eyes, she stared up at the man she had always considered so dull. His grey eyes were darker than normal and his windswept brown hair unruly. Had she done that?

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to— Did I frighten you?"

She shook her head. He certainly didn't look dull right now. Rather the opposite.

"No..." Her cheeks heated. "I was simply surprised. It's... I've never..."

I've never felt like this before. It was the truth, but it wasn't easy to say. Especially not to the man who had been in love with her best friend for years. She might as well have doused herself with a bucket of cold water. Retreating a step, she turned her back to him.

Forcing a light tone, she motioned to the bed. "Shall we get some sleep?"

She heard him shifting behind her. The quick change must have surprised him.

"Mary?"

There was a question in his voice she couldn't answer. She only knew that she could not keep kissing him like this. It was jumbling her thoughts. Her feelings.

"I definitely think it's bedtime," she mumbled, moving towards the privacy screen to get changed.

John's hand on her wrist stopped her. Schooling her features to a bland mask, she turned around. He was staring at her with a line between his dark brows.

"Please," he said. "What is wrong? Mary, I'm truly sorry. I went too far... I got carried away in the moment."

Had he imagined Olivia in his arms? She pushed the thought away. It was too painful. Even if it shouldn't be. Why would she care? No... She didn't want to know the answer to that question. Didn't want to consider the possibility that she no longer considered John Osborne to be the most dull man she knew.

"It's nothing," she said. "But I think this might have been a bad idea. We'll have to fool Hayes without getting too close. It's not right."

The words made sense. They were logical. And complete nonsense. If she had been brave like her friend Nick, she would have thrown herself at John. Everything else be damned. But she was not brave. She had no inclination to put herself in a situation where her heart was likely to break.

No, she would find her sister and drag her away from this den of iniquity—as tantalising as it all was—and she would stay far away from John Osborne. A couple more years, and she imagined she could convince her parents and brother that she was firmly on the shelf and it was time for her to set up a small household in the countryside. It didn't seem like an impossible ask.

John's frown had not disappeared as he continued watching her quietly. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, hoping he couldn't tell how her feelings towards him had softened. Finally, he sighed.

"If that is what you wish," he said.

"It is." It wasn't. Not really. Her lips still tingled from their kiss and her fingers itched to touch him in ways she had never been allowed to touch a man before. To explore that alluring hint of bare skin where the top buttons of his shirt were open.

This party had showed her another side of interactions between men and women. A darker side. A tantalising side. Considering her future as a spinster, she wished she could have experienced some of these things before it was too late. But not with John. It was too dangerous. Too easy to want more.

John watched as Mary pulled away and disappeared behind the privacy screen.

Hell.

Kissing her again had backfired. He had gone too far too fast and scared her off. It wasn't as if he had planned to pull her so close. It had just... happened. The depth of his desire for her was rather disconcerting. He had never felt like that before with anyone. If he had, he might not have stayed out of women's beds until now. He wasn't completely inexperienced. There had been some fumbling attempts that never amounted to anything in his younger years, and a few stolen kisses and caresses as an adult. But he had never gone further than that. Had never wanted to. Not when he knew he wanted to marry Olivia.

Until tonight.

Fire still simmered inside him. The sounds of Mary undressing behind the screen didn't help as his mind conjured images of her slipping out of the revealing dress and stretching her naked body before readying to put on her nightgown. He groaned inwardly. This house. This party. It was doing strange things to both of them.

He shed his shirt and boots before getting into bed. Maybe he ought to sleep on the floor. The idea of sharing a bed with Mary and not touching her felt akin to torture. And she had made her feelings on the matter clear. They would remain proper. Only doing what was absolutely necessary when among other guests. It was definitely the logical thing to do. But for once in his life, he didn't want to be logical, he—

Mary came out from behind the screen, and he nearly choked on air. She was wearing nothing but a sheer chemise that did little to shield her from his gaze. The lingering flames from the fireplace accentuated her contours through the fabric, and the cloth itself was so thin he could see the shadowy hint of her nipples. He swallowed painfully.

"I'm sorry about this," she said, her cheeks staining red. "I can't find my nightgown. The maid must have taken it for washing."

Grateful for his trousers and the bedsheet covering his instant reaction to her appearance, he nodded. That floor seemed mighty appealing right about now.

When Mary walked over to the bed and climbed in, he edged away from the middle to ensure he wouldn't accidentally touch her. Or purposefully touch her. If he'd thought the previous night of her restlessly shifting and changing positions had been difficult, tonight was bound to be hell. To know there was nothing but a flimsy layer of fabric covering her was making it impossible to relax. He lay quietly on his back, staring at the ceiling, willing his body to stop noticing every move, every breath, from the woman next to him.

The mattress shifted as she turned around. But she said nothing. Was she asleep?

He twisted his head to look at her and found himself staring into a pair of green eyes that had been regarding him. She instantly screwed her eyes shut. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Was that supposed to make him believe she was asleep?

"I saw that," he said.

Without opening her eyes, she muttered, "Can you not tell I am pretending to sleep? Surely the gentlemanly thing would be to go along with it."

"I don't very much wish to be gentlemanly right now." He had not meant to confess to this, but the admission spilled out before he could stop it.

Her eyes flew open, and her lips parted. "What?"

"Beg your pardon. I should not have said that." Turning around so he lay facing her, he sighed. "You have made your feelings clear on the matter, and I respect your wishes."

"Thank you." She looked away. "I just don't think it's a wise choice."

He nodded even as his body screamed that it was an excellent choice.

"I'm sorry if I was too"—he made a wry face—"passionate earlier."

"Do not apologise. I practically asked you to kiss me." She sighed and threw herself on her back, staring up at the ceiling. He tried not to notice how the thin chemise had ridden low on her chest, leaving her bosom a hair's breadth from spilling out.

"I wanted you to," she admitted. "After three seasons in London, it's becoming quite clear that I will not catch a husband. Like you, most men find me too loud and too opinionated. For a moment, I entertained the idea of experiencing some of the things I am unlikely to as a spinster. I'd still like to... But not with you."

He frowned. "I know I am not your favourite person... Being 'dull' and all, but—ouch."

A slight smile crossed her lips. "It's not that. You love Olivia. Whether or not the two of you ever marry, it doesn't seem right for me to be kissing you."

Olivia. The woman he loved. The woman he had barely thought about today until Dash mentioned her. He admired Olivia. She was beautiful and graceful with a wonderful sense of humour. But if he was honest with himself, he had never desired her. Not in the way he currently desired to take Mary in his arms and kiss her senseless. Was it purely attraction? Or did he care for Mary in other ways, too? It was not a conclusion he could reach while aching to reach across the bed to pull her into his arms. And it was unfair of him to try until he knew.

Deciding to lighten the mood, he teased, "Does this mean you no longer find me dull?"

She chuckled. "Oh, no. I will forever find you dull."

"And you are the most vexing woman of my acquaintance."

He just wasn't so sure that was a bad thing anymore. Yes, she frustrated him more than anyone else. But she also amused him more than anyone else, and he strangely felt like he could talk to her about anything. She always listened, even if she was equally likely to tell him he was acting like an idiot, as she was to be encouraging.

Turning her back to him, he heard her yawn. "Good night, Dull Osborne."

A smile touched his lips. "Good night, Mary."

~~~~~~