“Would you open the door?”
“No. You’re my secretary. I can be in a closed room with you. No one will think twice about it.”
“I will think twice.”
“You don’t get to have an opinion.”
He came back to his chair and seated himself. He clasped hold of her hand and traced circles on her wrist. When he stared at her as he was, her thoughts became jumbled. He seemed to want something from her that she couldn’t give. Or perhaps he didn’t know what he sought, and he hoped she’d enlighten him.
Around him, she felt special, as if he valued her above all women, which was ridiculous in the extreme. But she couldn’t stop the race of pleasure she suffered when she wondered if she might be beginning to matter to him.
How could he peer at her so ardently without there being a deeper meaning attached?
“You sneaked out of my bed,” he said. “I awoke and you weren’t there.”
“You assumed I’d stay the night?”
“Yes.”
“You’re insane. I can’t figure out why I visited you in the first place.”
“I missed you,” he absurdly declared.
“You did not.”
“I did. Isn’t that bizarre?”
Without warning, he grabbed her and dragged her to him. Her bottom was balanced on his thigh, her breasts crushed to his chest.
He kissed her slowly and mercilessly, his tongue in her mouth, his fingers roaming over her torso. Her muscles relaxed, her bones relaxed, her pores relaxed until she worried she might melt into a puddle on the rug.
She hadn’t the fortitude to deflect his delicious onslaught. She wished she could confess her predicament to an older, more experienced woman who could counsel her on how to resist him. Because what female would want to resist him?
It seemed as if she was perched on the edge of a cliff, that she’d jumped off and was falling and falling and falling. Where would she be when she landed?
“Good morning,” he said as he drew away.
“Good morning. How is your hangover?”
“I’m feeling better by the moment.”
“Do you drink excessive amounts so you have an excuse for your bad behavior?”
“No, I drink because I like it. And I misbehave because I’m a rogue and a scapegrace.”
“I don’t believe that about you.”
“What don’t you believe?”
“You enjoy acting the scoundrel, and you like pretending that you’re a lout, but you’re not. Not deep down.”
“You’re wrong. I’m as awful as everyone claims. You shouldn’t forget it.”
“Why have people thinking the worst of you? Under all the bluster, you’re actually a fine person.”
“My little champion,” he murmured, and he kissed her again.
This time, as he pulled away, she extricated herself and moved to put the table between them as a barrier. If he touched her, she couldn’t concentrate, and she definitely needed to focus.
She was tumbling down a slippery slope. He insisted on being kind to her, but she misconstrued his generosity, imbuing it with a significance she was positive he didn’t intend.
In her mind, she’d built up fantasies where he was helping her because he was smitten, which had to be nonsense. He wasn’t the type to bond in any abiding way, and she wasn’t worldly enough to separate their physical attraction from the emotional one she was developing for him.
“Why are you bothering with me?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t be alone with you for two seconds without you making advances.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No, I’m just puzzled. I don’t understand why you’d involve yourself.”
“You amuse me. You’re so entertaining.”
“That’s it?”
“If you consider how easily I’m bored, I’d say it’s quite a lot.”
“You don’t envision anything . . . more happening, do you?”
“What more could there be?”
“Do you fancy me?” she humiliated herself by asking.
“Yes.”
His torrid gaze took a leisurely trip down her body, stopping at all the pertinent spots.
“But . . . it’s not me precisely, is it?” she pressed. “You could dally with me or it could be any woman.”
He snorted. “I’m a bit choosey. I wouldn’t take up with any old shrew.”
“I see.” Feeling like a fool, she started for the door.
“Where are you going?” he inquired.
“I can’t continue on with you. I don’t know how.”
“What’s to know?”
“How long are you planning to be here?”
He shrugged. “A week? Maybe two?”
“You’d never make . . . a . . . commitment to me, would you?”
“No.”
He said it gently, but still, it hurt.
“We’d flirt and play, and then, you’d leave for London without looking back?”
“You’ve pretty much covered it.”
“Will you ever visit Stafford again?”
“Not if I don’t have to.”
She reached for the knob.
“It’s just kissing, Em.”
“It’s more than that, and you know it.”
“I agree.” He grinned his devil’s grin. “It’s a tad more than that.”
“You’re very experienced at amour, aren’t you?”
“Not at amour. At lust. You shouldn’t confuse the two. Lust is what’s flaring between us, and I’m very adept at satisfying it.”
“I’m not experienced, and I don’t care to be.”
“I’ve told you not to lie to me. You’re so bad at it. You like what we do together. You’re simply too prim to admit it.”
“You’re correct. I’m much too prim, and you’re much too sophisticated.”
She walked out, and he snarled, “Emeline!”
“What?”
He was irked that she’d depart, and she wasn’t surprised by his spurt of temper. He liked having his own way too much.
“Were you expecting something else from me?” he asked.
Yes, yes! “No. I merely like to be clear so I remember my place.”
“I don’t grow fond of women. I don’t bond with them. Not even when it’s one whose company I enjoy. I don’t have that type of stable character.”
“I understand.” She nodded. “You mentioned to Mr. Jenkins that you’d hired me as your secretary.”
He made a waffling motion with his hand. “I don’t need a secretary. I have an office full of clerks in London to chase after my paperwork.”
“I’m happy to help you. I’m skilled at writing and factoring.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Otherwise, I won’t be able to attend you anymore.”
“There are plenty of single females in the area. I’m sure I can find someone to divert me for the remainder of my stay.”
Turning to the pot of tea, he poured a cup, then heaped another pile of food on
