A Lady of His Own

him.”

Slowly, she nodded; her gaze went past him-he couldn’t see her eyes, couldn’t imagine what she was thinking.

Reaching out, he caught her chin and turned her face back to him. “You should remain here. We can set up a closer watch on Nicholas-”

“No.” She lifted her chin from his hand, but kept her eyes on his. “We agreed. If I’m there, I can keep a much more comprehensive eye on him, and you can visit freely as well. The more we’re about, the more likely he’ll grow rattled-”

“And what happens if, growing rattled, he decides perhaps you know too much?”

He thought she paled, but her gaze didn’t waver. If anything, her chin set more mulishly.

“Charles, there are two very good, very powerful and compelling reasons why I should return to Wallingham. The first is because keeping a close eye on Nicholas, especially if he was the one who killed Gimby, is vital. We need to know what Nicholas is doing, and I’m the person best able to learn that from inside the Hall, which also gives you a reason for visiting often and generally being around. Moreover, there’s the fact it was my father and brother who were running secrets to the French. It’s my family’s honor that’s been besmirched-”

“It’s not up to you to make restitution.” Hands on his hips, he loomed over her. “You don’t have to do that. No one would expect-”

“I don’t care what anyone else expects!” She didn’t budge an inch. “It’s what I expect, and it’s what I’ll do.”

“Penny-”

“No!” She fixed her eyes, glittering belligrently, on his. “Just tell me one thing-if you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you feel, and do, the same?”

His jaw set so hard he thought it would crack. Lips tightly compressed, he made no answer.

She nodded. “Exactly. So I’ll go to Wallingham in the morning as arranged.”

“What was your second oh-so-compelling reason?” If he could find any weakness, he’d exploit it.

She thought, then thought some more. He simply waited.

Eventually, her eyes steady on his, she said, “Because you were right. It’s not at all wise for me to stay under the same roof as you. You are a far greater threat to me than Nicholas is likely to be.”

He looked down into her stormy gray eyes, drank in the directness, the blatant honesty in her gaze, and felt the inevitable reaction to her words-to her admission-rise through him. He clenched his hands tight on his hips. Slowly said, “I would much rather you were at risk from me than from any other man. I, at least, am not interested in murdering you.”

But what you could do to my heart would hurt even more. Penny held back the words, forced herself to take a long slow breath before saying, “Nevertheless, I’ll leave for Wallingham in the morning.”

She went to step back.

He swore, and reached for her.

She’d been watching, but was far too slow; he grabbed her, jerked her to him, then his lips came down on hers.

CHAPTER 8

CHARLES TRAPPED HER AGAINST HIM, CRUSHED HIS LIPS TO hers, surged into her mouth and laid claim.

It was the stupidest thing he could have done, an approach doomed to fail before he’d begun. He knew it, and couldn’t stop. Couldn’t rein in the primal instinct that had slipped its leash, that insisted he should simply claim her and be done with it. That if he did he’d be able to command her, to impose his will on her and keep her safe.

The compulsive, driving need to keep her safe, given teeth and claws by the discoveries of the past days, was more than powerful enough to make him lose his head.

Penny’s defenses vaporized beneath his onslaught, beneath that hard, fast, scorching kiss-hard enough to knock her wits from her head, fast enough to send them whirling. Scorching enough to cinder any resistance.

It was totally unfair. That he could so simply stop her thoughts, capture her awareness so utterly…

His arms locked around her and he pulled her flush against him. Heat to burning heat, breasts to chest, hips to hard thighs.

She gasped through the kiss, burned, ached. Any second, the last shred of her will would catch alight, and she’d be swept away. She gave up the fight to think, and just reacted. Raising both hands, she grabbed his head, speared her fingers through the silky tumble of his black locks, and gripped.

And kissed him back.

Poured every ounce of her frustrated emotions into the act. Pressed her lips to his, mouth to mouth, sent her tongue to tangle with his in a wild, pagan, wholly uninhibited dance.

And for the first time in their lives, in this arena, she knew she’d shocked him. Rocked him enough to have him hesitate, then scramble to follow her lead, to regain the reins, to wrest control back again.

She didn’t want to give it up.

In seconds, the exchange became a heated duel; initially, she held the upper hand. They were more evenly matched than they had been years ago, yet he was still a master and she a mere apprentice. Step by step, inch by inch, he reclaimed the ascendancy, reclaimed her senses. Dragged each down into a languorous sea of wanting. Of needing. Of having to have more.

She felt his arms ease, and his hands slide down, over her back, down over her hips to grip her bottom; he drew her closer still, molding her to him, suggestively provoking, evoking again that never-forgotten heat.

He rocked against her, and the heat spread. Wildfire down her veins, blossoming beneath her skin. Melting her bones, sapping her will…

Deliberately, she dropped her guard, let everything she’d held back, all that had grown, all that had been pent- up for thirteen years with nowhere to go, well and pour through her. Held him to the kiss and let it pour into him.

And felt him pause, then shudder. Felt the change in him, muscles tensing, locking, steeling against the tide.

She gloried, exulted-and sent the tide raging. She wanted so much more than he’d ever offered to give, and for once he was, if not helpless, then uncertain.

Charles couldn’t find solid ground. She’d cut it from under him; the only thing his senses could find that was real was her, and the desire that flamed between them, hotter, more powerful, more intense, frighteningly more potent than it had been before-so much more than he’d ever felt before. It-she-was passion and desire, heat and longing incarnate in a dimension he’d never before explored. She’d rocketed them into it, then set them both adrift…he had no idea how to return to the real world.

And no real wish to do so.

She was fuel to his fire; he needed her under his hands, under him. At that moment, he needed to be inside her more than he needed to breathe.

But not here.

The warning came in a fleeting instant of lucidity; this was madness and he knew it. But he couldn’t stop; he was helpless to draw back from her.

She pressed closer, arms twining about his neck; he couldn’t resist her lure, couldn’t resist slanting his mouth over hers and taking the kiss deeper. Whirling them both into deeper waters yet, to where the currents ran strong, to where the tug of desire became a tangible force, pulling them under.

She wasn’t safe, and neither was he.

He raised his hands to her breasts, closed them and kneaded, then sent them racing, covetously tracing the sleek planes of her back, the globes of her bottom, the long sweeps of her thighs. He felt her breath hitch; he