Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

J asper sat in the dimly lit library, his gaze fixed on the chessboard, a glass of whisky in hand. He was contemplating whether sacrificing his bishop was the best strategic move when a faint scraping sound caught his attention. His brow furrowed as he glanced toward the window, the sound too deliberate to be the wind.

The latch shifted, and to his astonishment, the window creaked open. In the darkened room, he watched a slim figure slither inside with the grace and agility of a skilled burglar. For a moment, he remained still, observing the intruder with cold curiosity, his instincts sharpened.

Who would dare break into his home?

The person bumped their head against the window frame, and a soft, distinctly feminine curse slipped from their lips. He stiffened. That voice. Awareness rippled over his skin. The scent of lavender and something uniquely hers filled the air, and his heart gave a sudden, unexpected jolt. Honor . Disbelief gripped him as she carefully closed the window behind her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was being watched.

Honor turned, and the moment her eyes landed on him, her face lit up with a smile of pure delight. Jasper's mouth went dry, his gaze lowering briefly to take in the tight trousers that clung scandalously to her curves. Every inch of her was richly pronounced, and the sight of her in such attire sent a pulse of heat through his veins.

"Honor," he said gruffly. "What the devil are you doing here?" A lethal sensation whispered through his chest. "Are you hurt?"

"I am not hurt."

Jasper arched a brow and set his whisky aside, rising slowly to his feet. "Have you taken leave of your senses? Why in God's name did you come through the window?"

Honor had the audacity to smile, utterly unbothered by his sharp tone.

"I could hardly come through the front door at this hour."

Jasper exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm almost afraid to ask where you acquired such skills."

He suspected it was from 48 Berkeley Square. If that club was bold enough to teach women how to fence, box, and defend themselves, it wasn't far-fetched to imagine the Duchess of Hartford was audacious enough to teach them how to pick locks and sneak into houses.

Bloody hell .

"You were not at the ball tonight," she said as if that were a perfectly reasonable explanation for breaking into his townhouse.

"So, naturally, you decided breaking into my home was the solution? Are you not even slightly concerned about risking your reputation further?"

A flush of pink crept across her cheeks.

"I—" she hesitated, her defiance wavering for a moment before she spoke again, softer this time, "Are you not at all pleased to see me?"

Jasper stared at her, keeping his expression carefully composed lest she saw the naked hunger in his eyes. He wanted to remain unaffected, to remind her of the danger she was courting with such recklessness. But the truth was undeniable—every sense that had been dulled by the monotony of his evening had painfully come alive the moment he realized it was Honor in his home.

"Whether I am pleased to see you or not is irrelevant," Jasper said, his tone clipped.

Honor pursed her lips, then slowly removed the cap from her head. Her glorious hair tumbled free, caught in a haphazard chignon, with several loose tendrils dancing around her cheeks. The sight of her, disheveled and daring, sent a fresh wave of temptation rushing through him.

"Then what is important?" she asked, her voice a mix of defiance and curiosity.

He had avoided the countess's ball tonight precisely because he knew there was a chance Honor might attend. Then he received her note once he reached home from White's and confirmed it. He had decided to reassert the walls between them to master the desire she evoked in him. Once he had regained control, he would arrange another time for them to put on their charade in public.

But now, those walls felt dangerously close to crumbling.

"Have I robbed you of speech?" she drawled. Her gaze softened, her expression open and curious as she waited for his answer. Honor took a tentative step forward, the lamplight catching the glint of amusement in her eyes.

Jasper exhaled, running a hand through his hair. What am I to do with her? He moved toward her, stopping just a breath away, his eyes lingering on the sheer loveliness of her half-smile.

"You're walking a very dangerous line," he warned coolly, struggling to resist the urge to drag her into his arms.

Honor merely shrugged, that infuriatingly nonchalant smile playing on her lips. "I should be afraid, I suppose. But I rather like the idea of flirting with danger ... or, perhaps, flirting with you. They are both in the realms of things I have never experienced, and I am quite fed up with being proper ... and cautious. As someone dear to me pointed out, caution has only ever won me unhappiness."

Jasper stilled, his body taut with tension. She peeked at him from beneath her lashes, her smile soft but unmistakably ...wicked. Jasper found himself torn between exasperation and something far more dangerous—a desire to close the small space between them, thread his fingers through her hair, and kiss her until she was breathless with want. He would not stop there, and before she left, he would be rocking her hard and deep onto his cock. Jasper clenched his jaw until it damn well ached. With Honor standing before him, control felt like a fragile thing, ready to snap.

"Why are you here?" he demanded, his voice harsher than he intended. He needed to get this over with quickly—an explanation, and then she could leave, allowing him to return to his chess game.

"I wanted to thank you," she replied, her silver eyes sparking like embers in the shadowed room. "I ... I learned what you did at Gentleman Jackson's. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't important," he replied, his tone dismissive.

"You know it is," she murmured, her gaze steady, unwavering.

Jasper frowned, wondering how she had found out. If anyone connected his actions with her, they could face another scandal.

"Lord Hollybrook surprisingly danced with me tonight, and he was forthcoming about what you did," she said quietly, seemingly reading his thoughts. "I hadn't realized how much of a thorn the earl's actions had been in my heart ... until I learned justice was served. Perhaps I'm more vengeful than I knew, but that thorn was only removed once I knew he'd paid for what he did. I had to see you ... to thank you."

Jasper's chest tightened at her words, knowing his retribution had brought her peace. Still, he couldn't resist narrowing his eyes, his voice edged with tension. "And offering your thanks couldn't wait until I called on you?"

"It could have," she whispered, taking a few deliberate steps closer, "but something else couldn't wait, Jasper."

"What?"

Honor didn't answer with words. Instead, she surged forward, closing the space between them in an instant. Her mouth found his with a suddenness that stole his breath, the kiss searing and unapologetic. Jasper's world ignited, his willpower reduced to nothing as the warmth of her touch and the taste of her lips caught him utterly, helplessly on fire.

Honor clung to Jasper, lost in the intensity of his kiss. His mouth moved over hers with a hunger that matched the wild rhythm of her pulse. Their tongues tangled, sinuously gliding against each other as she responded with passionate fervor, shocked by the visceral nature of her own desire as if the years of guarded propriety she had upheld melted away under his touch. His lips pressed against hers again and again, bruising, consuming, until her breath came in ragged gasps.

Oh, God . Something warned her that if she did not end their kiss, the duke would ravish her before she left his home. Honor felt poised on the edge of madness, but something still prevented her from falling off. Finally, she pulled away, her lips tingling, both panting in the aftermath.

They stared at each other, the silence heavy with unsaid things. She was trying to steady herself, to gather her scattered thoughts, when he surprised her by speaking.

"Do you play chess?"

Honor blinked, startled by the question. "I do," she replied, her voice still breathless.

A slight smile touched his lips. "Good. Join me."

He gestured toward the chessboard, and she sat down before him, still dazed from the kiss. She lowered her head to hide the smile threatening to break across her face. She had not expected this turn of events—moving from passionate kisses to a chess match. Yet, the idea of playing with him, of seeing his calculating mind at work, thrilled her in a different way.

They began their game, the tension between them shifting from the heated passion of their kiss to the fierce, silent intensity of competition. Honor wanted to awe him with her skill, but she was still careful. Each move was deliberate and calculated. Honor was drawn into the game, strategizing with a determination she hadn't expected. She wanted to surprise him, to challenge him. And as the minutes ticked by, she realized she was doing just that.

"You are good," he murmured.

Warmth spread through her body. "I am more than good."

"A measure of self-conceit is always a good thing."

"I was recently crowned our new chess queen at 48 Berkeley Square," she said, her lips quirking. "It is a very hallowed place to be, but I am preparing for someone to challenge me soon."

He raised an eyebrow, his amusement evident. "Is that so? Perhaps I'll have to tread more carefully, then."

Jasper studied the board with a sharp focus, occasionally glancing at her, his eyes narrowing in admiration as she maneuvered her pieces with confidence. By the time they neared the endgame, Honor couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. She had held her own against him, and she knew it.

"Checkmate," he murmured.

Honor laughed. "I am impressed. We need to play more, with higher stakes."

"Do you gamble?"

"Only at 48 Berkeley Square. Lady ..." she pursed her lips. "Forgive me, but I cannot call a specific name. Let's say Lady X wagered that no one would be brave enough to visit a public cemetery at midnight. Some ladies are adventurous enough and enjoy a good challenge that they will rise to the occasion. Many of us would bet on who would win. I guessed correctly that Lady D would succeed and won fifty pounds. You see, I am a wonderful observer, and they are quite impressed with my ability to always make the right wager."

He chuckled. "Grace has mentioned some of the wagers she recklessly accepts."

"She is very brave," Honor said, smiling.

"Is that to say you are not?"

She stilled, lifting startled eyes to his. "I have never accepted a dare or a wager."

"Why?"

Honor wrinkled her nose. "I have only been a member for six months, and I hardly find the opportunity to sneak away from home to attend. I ... I sometimes feel like I am still finding my place amongst the ladies there. They are all so wonderfully close, but there are moments when I feel as if I am standing on the outside of their camaraderie, looking inside and wishing ... I was not perhaps so boring."

Her throat closed, and an awful sense of vulnerability pierced her. She glanced away from his unwavering stare, wondering why she had shared that deep uncertainty so easily. Her breath halted inside her chest when he reached out and tucked one of her tendrils behind her ear.

"My sister once told me the Duchess of Hartford told her she created 48 Berkeley Square for remarkable ladies who remain unseen by the ton . Society might call these ladies wallflowers and bluestockings. Still, there must be something unique ... wild ... irreprehensible beneath the careful exterior they show to the world for a lady to gain membership. I dare to say those ladies will welcome all of you with open arms, even the part of you that sometimes prefers silence to adventure."

Terrifying emotions crashed over Honor's senses, and she stared at him, curling her fingers into her palm so the sting would prevent her from doing something foolish. Something like dragging his head down and kissing him until he assured all the hunger clamoring through her heart.

"Do not look at me like that," he hissed.

"How do I look at you?" she achingly asked.

"As if you would have no protest if I were to peel those trousers off your body, arch your lush arse in the air and sink my cock deep, killing both of us with pleasure," he said bluntly.

Honor almost fainted. "You truly got all that from my stare?"

His eyes flared slightly then he chuckled, scrubbing his hand over his face. "Forgive me for my crudeness."

Honor lowered her gaze, hiding the flutter in her chest, though she allowed herself a small smile.

"I'll call upon you tomorrow," Jasper continued, standing from his chair. "We'll ride in my phaeton through Hyde Park."

She nodded, already looking forward to their next encounter. But before she could rise, he leaned down. "There will be no more kisses," he warned, though the slight edge to his tone suggested he wasn't entirely sure of his own resolve.

Honor's lips twitched with amusement. "Surely I should learn as much as I can," she teased, her voice light. "After all, I still need to entice a suitor."

Jasper narrowed his gaze, clearly not amused by her jest, but she couldn't resist winking at him, the boldness of her actions surprising even herself.

Who am I with this man? she wondered, feeling an unfamiliar lightness in her chest. With him, she wasn't the cautious wallflower she had always been. She felt like a butterfly instead of a moth, fluttering free, laughing and talking without restraint.

For the first time in her life, Honor allowed herself to embrace the heady rush of it all.