She urged him to the floor with her, where he lowered to his haunches. Win knelt amid the mass of her skirts. Untying her bonnet, she tossed it to the side.
Merripen watched Win's face as she went to work, brushing at his shoulders and hair. 'You can't be enjoying this,' he said.
'Silly man. You're covered in feathers-of course I'm enjoying it.' And she was. He looked so… well, adorable, kneeling and frowning and holding still while she de-feathered him. And it was lovely to play with the thick, shiny layers of his hair, which he never would have allowed in other circumstances. Her giggles kept frothing up, impossible to suppress.
But as a minute passed, and then another, the laughter left her throat, and she felt relaxed and almost dreamlike as she continued to pull the fluff from his hair. The sound of the crowds was muffled by the velvet draped all around them, hanging like curtains of night and clouds and mist.
Merripen's eyes held a strange dark glow, the contours of his face stern and beautiful. He seemed like some dangerous pagan creature emerging from the witching hour.
'Almost done,' Win whispered, although she was already finished. Her fingers sifted gently through his hair. So vibrant, heavy, the shorn locks like velvet pile at the back of his neck.
Win's breath caught as Merripen moved. At first she thought he was rising to his feet, but he tugged her closer and took her head in his hands. His mouth was so close, his exhalations like steam against her lips.
She was stunned by the moment of suspended violence, the savage tightness of his grip. She waited, listening to his hard, angry breathing, unable to understand what had provoked him.
'I have nothing to offer you,' he finally said in a guttural voice. 'Nothing.'
Win's lips had turned dry. She moistened them, and tried to speak through a thrill of anxious trembling. 'You have yourself,' she whispered.
'You don't know me. You think you do, but you don't. The things I've done, the things I'm capable of- you and your family, all you know of life comes from books. If you understood anything-'
'Make me understand. Tell me what is so terrible that you must keep pushing me away.'
He shook his head.
'Then stop torturing the both of us,' she said unsteadily. 'Leave me, or let me go.'
'I can't,' he snapped. 'I can't, damn you.' And before she could make a sound, he kissed her.
Her heart thundered, and she opened to him with a low, despairing moan. Her nostrils were filled with the fragrance of smoke, and man, and the earthy autumn spice of him. His mouth shaped to hers with primitive hunger, his tongue stabbing deep, searching hungrily. They knelt together more tightly as Win rose to press her torso against his, closer, harder. And every place they touched, she ached. She wanted to feel his skin, his muscles bunched and hard beneath her hands.
The desire flared high and wild, leaving no room for sanity. If only he would press her back among all this velvet, here and now, and have his way with her. She thought of taking him inside her body, and she flushed beneath her clothes, until the crawling heat made her squirm. His mouth searched her throat, and her head tipped back to give him free access. He found the throb of her pulse, his tongue stroking the vulnerable spot until she gasped.
Reaching up to his face, she shaped her fingers over his jaw, the heavy grain of shaven beard scraping deli- ciously against her delicate palms. She guided his mouth back to hers. Pleasure filled her as she was blindfolded by the darkness and the sensation of him all around her.
'Kev,' she whispered in between kisses, 'I've loved you for so-'
He crushed her mouth with his desperately, as if he could smother not only the words but the emotion itself. He stole as deep a taste of her as possible, ardently determined to leave nothing unclaimed. She clung to him, her body racked with sustained shivers, her nerves singing with incandescent heat. He was all she had ever wanted, all she would ever need.
But a sharp breath was torn from her throat as he pushed her back, breaking the warm, necessary contact between their bodies.
For a long moment neither of them moved, both striving to recover equilibrium. And as the glow of desire faded, Win heard Merripen say roughly, 'I can't be alone with you. This can't happen again.'
This, Win decided with a surge of anger, was an impossible situation. Merripen refused to acknowledge his feelings for her and wouldn't explain why. Surely she deserved more trust from him than that.
'Very well,' she said stiffly, struggling to her feet. As Merripen stood and reached for her, she pushed impatiently at his hand. 'No, I don't want help.' She began to shake out her skirts. 'You are absolutely right, Merripen. We should not be alone together, since the result is always a foregone conclusion: you make an advance, I respond, and then you push me away. I am no child's toy to be pulled back and forth on a string, Kev.'
He found her bonnet and handed it to her. 'I know you're not-'
'You say I don't know you,' she said furiously. 'Apparently it hasn't occurred to you that you don't know me, either. You're quite certain of who I am, aren't you? But I've changed during the past two years. You might at least make an effort to find out what kind of woman I've become.' She went to the end of the fabric corridor, peeked out to make certain the coast was clear, and she stepped out into the main part of the court.
Merripen followed. 'Where are you going?'
Glancing at him, Win was satisfied to see that he looked as rumpled and exasperated as she felt. 'I'm leaving. I'm too cross to enjoy any of the displays now.'
'Go the other direction.'
Win was silent as Merripen led her from the Crystal Palace. She had never felt so unsettled or peevish. Her parents had always called irritability an excess of spleen, but Win lacked the experience to comprehend that her ill humor stemmed from a source quite different from the spleen. All she knew was that Merripen seemed similarly vexed as he walked beside her.
It annoyed her that he didn't say a word. It also annoyed her that he kept pace so easily with her brisk, ground-digging strides, and that when she had begun to breathe hard from exertion, he barely seemed affected by the exercise.
Only when they approached the Rutledge did Win break the silence. It pleased her that she sounded so calm. 'I will abide by your wishes, Kev. From now on, our relationship will be pi atonic and friendly. Nothing more.' She paused at the first step and looked up at him solemnly. 'I've been give a rare opportunity… a second chance at life. And I intend to make the most of it. I'm not going to waste my love on a man who doesn't want or need it. I won't bother you again.'
When Cam entered the bedroom of their suite, he found Amelia standing before a towering pile of parcels and boxes overflowing with ribbons and silk and feminine adornments. She turned with a sheepish smile as he closed the door, her heart tripping a little at the sight of him. His collarless shirt was open at the throat, his body almost feline in its lithe muscularity, his face riveting in its sensuous male beauty. Not long ago, she would never have envisioned being married at all, much less to such an exotic creature.
His gaze chased lightly over her, the pink velvet dressing gown open to reveal her chemise and naked thighs. 'I see the shopping expedition was a success.'
'I don't know what came over me,' Amelia replied a touch apologetically. 'You know I'm never extravagant. I only meant to purchase some handkerchiefs and some stockings. But…' She gestured lamely to the piles of fripperies. 'I seem to have been in an acquisitive mood today.'
A smile flashed in his dark face. 'As I've told you before, love, spend as much as you like. You couldn't beggar me if you tried.'
'I bought some things for you, too,' she said, rummaging through the pile. 'Some cravats, and books, and French shaving soap… although I've been meaning to discuss that with you……'
'Discuss what?' Cam approached her from behind, kissing the side of her throat.
Amelia drew in a breath at the hot imprint of his mouth and nearly forgot what she had been saying. 'Your shaving,' she said vaguely. 'Beards are becoming quite fashionable of late. I think you should try a goatee. You would look very dashing, and…' Her voice faded as he worked his way down her neck.
'It might tickle,' Cam murmured, and laughed as she shivered.
Gently turning her to face him, he stared into her eyes. There was something different about him, she
