She's unbelievable. Asking him questions like that when he can still taste her on his lips.

"We ought to return," he huffs, his sense of propriety warring with other, less-noble instincts. "As well you know."

It's very tempting, to take her hand and lead her further into the darkness of the Manor, into yet another out of the way room where he can set her on his lap and let her tug at his hair to her heart's content. Or, if he were even more daring, to let her guide him all the way back to her chambers, where he could allow her to coax him into her bed, although his imagination balks at continuing that thought, feeling voyeuristic and embarrassed even at the prospect of contemplating it.

He must resist temptation.