He should not have snapped at her, he thought. She was an intelligent, strong-willed woman, but she had gone through a great deal because of Zachary Elland three years ago. Now it seemed she would have to go through it all again. So would he.

“Someone has made certain that we are aware there is now a new Memento-Mori Man,” he said quietly. “Very well, the message has been received. I will hunt him down, just as I did Elland.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Tobias. I know I can depend upon you. I only wish I had realized that three years ago instead of allowing myself to be blinded by Zachary’s charm.”

He did not want to hear any more of this conversation, he thought. He stepped back from the door. “Get some rest, Aspasia. I must leave early in the morning, but I will meet you again in London.”

“She frowned. Why are you departing so soon?”

There was no need to explain that Lavinia had managed to get them both ejected from the castle, he decided. He had to consider the professional image of Lake amp; March.

“I have done all I can here,” he said coolly. “I must return to Town to continue my investigation. Time is of the essence.”

“Yes, of course.” She hesitated, making no move to close the door.

“Tobias, I meant what I said a moment ago. I truly wish that I had understood the great difference between you and Zachary three years ago. I assure you, I am a far wiser woman now. I have learned much in the time we have been apart. I know that you, too, must have some regrets about what happened in the past. Do you want to come in and talk for a while?”

The invitation could not have been more plain if she had had it engraved on fine paper, he thought. She was asking him to join her in her bed.

“I do not think that would be a good idea,” he said. “The hour grows late and I must rise very early. Good night, Aspasia.”

“She smiled somewhat wistfully. Yes, of course. I understand. I am happy that you have found someone you care about, Tobias.”

He walked away from her door. It closed softly in the shadows behind him.

At the foot of the staircase he paused. The sensible thing to do

=

was to continue along the corridor to his own room. If he was unable to sleep, he could spend the time packing.

“He stood there for a while longer. There was no one else about. He heard no footsteps on the stairs. Evidently the violent death earlier had squelched some of the guests’ enthusiasm for night games.

After another few seconds of close contemplation, he changed his mind about the wisdom of returning to his bed chamber. He went up the stairs to Lavinia’s floor and walked along the hall to her door.

He would knock very, very softly, he decided. If she did not answer, he would assume that she had gone to sleep. He would do the gentlemanly thing and go back to his own room.

He rapped once, lightly.

The door opened a few inches. Lavinia smiled at him through the narrow opening. She had changed into a long, white cotton nightgown. A dainty froth of white lace framed her throat.

He felt his blood heat at the sight of her.

“It occurred to me,” he said, moving through the doorway, “that the night need not be completely wasted.”

“An excellent thought.” She closed the door and turned to face him.

She had taken down her hair. In the glow of the candle, the loosened tresses were a fiery nimbus around her intelligent, intriguing face. Her eyes were pools of sensual mystery.

She smiled the slow, secret smile that never failed to make everything inside him clench as tight as a fist.

He pulled her into his arms. When her mouth met his, the fires leaped between them. He experienced the same sensation that always came over him when he held her like this. She had been meant for him. He did not have to restrain himself with her. He did not have to tread warily for fear of frightening her. Lavinia’s passions were as strong and fierce as his own.

She was different from any other woman he had ever known.

With her he could take the risk of allowing her to get close to that part of him that he had spent a lifetime concealing and controlling.

He picked her up and carried her to the small bed. He set her down on the quilts and paused only long enough to strip off his clothing.

When he was ready she smiled at him and raised her arms to welcome him.

His own personal mesmerist, he thought. The only one who could put him in a trance.

“Lavinia.”

He settled himself between her soft, warm thighs, caught her wrists in both of his hands and anchored them gently on either side of her head. The aching urgency pounded through him.

He bent his head and kissed her throat.

“Sometimes I want you so much it is a wonder I do not go up in flames,” he whispered.

“Oh, Tobias, do you not understand? When you burn, I burn too.”

The need flared within him.

He released one of her wrists and reached down to ease the nightgown out of his way. He drew his palm up the silken skin of her inner thigh. When he reached his goal, he found her warm and already damp. The scent of her body acted like a drug on his senses.

He touched her. She sucked in her breath and stirred sinuously beneath him. Her free hand clutched his bare shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. Impatiently she tried to get her other wrist loose, but he kept it pinned gently to the bed.

“Not yet,” he murmured against her breast. “First tell me how you want me to touch you.”

“You are touching me precisely how I want you to touch me.” She caught her breath. “Indeed, you always seem to know just how to do it.”

He drew his fingertips a little higher, pressing the little nubbin back into its tiny sheath. “Perhaps it would be better if I did this.”

She moaned and raised her hips a little off the bed. “Oh, yes. That is perfect.”

“What about this?” He slid a finger inside her and pushed upward.

“Tobias.”

“I collect that is better yet?”

“Yes.” She gasped and moved urgently against his hand. “Better than perfect.”

He started to remove his finger. Tiny muscles clenched.

“No.” She sounded breathless now. “No, I want you to touch me like that again.”

“Tell me exactly how you want it.”

“She threaded her fingers through his hair and forced his head down to her breast. You know how I want it. You are the only one who knows. Touch me, Tobias.”

The command set fire to his blood.

“Anything to oblige a lady.” He took one nipple into his mouth and

=

simultaneously eased his finger back inside. He pushed once more against the upper wall of her snug passage.

She mumbled thickly, twisting beneath him, and struggled once again to free her right wrist. She was strong, he thought. So much stronger than she appeared.

“Not yet,” he muttered. “I want to feel you come apart in my hands.”

“Tobias.”

He probed deeper, harder. She cried out softly. Her eyes squeezed shut.

He stroked her until she was tight and desperate, and only then did he release her other wrist. She grabbed him to her, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He thrust himself into her hot passage.

She convulsed around him with another soft cry. The small pulses triggered his own climax. It swept through him like some invisible storm.

Together they fell into the whirlpool.

A long time later, he roused himself from the sweet, heavy lethargy that had stolen over him in the wake of passion. The cot was, indeed, too small for the two of them, but he was not inclined to complain.

The scent of their lovemaking hung in the air, ripe and potent. He knew that he would forever associate it with her.

She lay languidly on top of him, her head pillowed against his shoulder, her hair spilling across his chest. Her nightgown was bunched up around her waist. The candle had burned low, but there was enough light left to reveal the rounded contours of her bare hips and thighs.