"Let me make something plain to you. So long as you are gallivanting about Town masquerading as my mistress, you will bloody well act the part."

Alarmed by the dangerous softness of his tone, Iphiginia took another discreet step backward. "Now, see here, my lord, you must understand that this is merely a role I am playing. One could say that I am your mistress-in-name-only. ?

"If you expect me to allow you to continue playing this part, you will follow my advice to the letter."

She lifted her chin. "You mean your commands, do you not?"

"Aye, madam. I mean my commands."

Iphiginia took another cautious step back. Her leg came up against a cold marble statue of two writhing figures. "I am not accustomed to obeying any man's commands, sir."

"'Rat much is clear. The late, lamented Mr. Bright obviously let you take the bit between your teeth and run wild. But if you think that I will allow you to make a complete fool of me in front of the ton, you are sadly mistaken."

Iphiginia was momentarily stricken with guilt. "My lord, there is no denying that you were put in a somewhat unfortunate position by my masquerade, but I assure you that I never meant to humiliate you."

"Only because you were proceeding on the mistaken assumption that I was safely dead."

"Well, yes, granted. However-" "Last night I found your audacity mildly entertaining. Tonight, however, you have stepped over the fine and I am no longer amused."

Iphiginia's brief flash of guilt evaporated. Anger took its place. "I am not doing this to amuse you, my lord."

Marcus took another menacing step toward her. "Until such time as you and I are finished with this charade, you will stay in character, madam."

"In character?" She could not retreat any farther. She was trapped by the stone limbs of the couple copulating' behind her. "Sir, I shall play this part as I see fit."

"No, madam, you will not." Marcus reached out and grasped a foot and a shoulder on the statue behind her, effectively caging her between his arms. "I am the authority on this role. If it weren't for me, the part would not even exist. Is that not correct?"

"I suppose one could make such an argument, but-"

"I am making the argument. I created the role. Therefore I shall direct you in it."

He brought his mouth down on hers and pinned her against a stone thigh.

What should have been a small, breathless gasp emerged from Iphiginia as a silent sigh. She clutched at his shoulders, more to steady herself than to push him away. The weight of him as he crushed her against the marble was intoxicating.

just as it had last night, excitement showered through her, an incandescent rain that made all her senses bloom at once.

She heard Marcus groan. It was a rough, dark sound that came from deep in his chest. He leaned closer. His body was as hard as the statue's but infinitely warmer.

She was supposed to be acting out a role, Iphiginia reminded herself. But everything suddenly felt very real.

She shivered and wrapped her arms around his neck, just as she had done last night. Now she could feel every inch of him pressing against her. He felt so good, so strong, so right.

She was enthralled, consumed by a deep longing that dazzled her with its intensity.

Iphiginia realized that she had been yearning for this sensation all of her life.

Marcus lifted his mouth from hers. His eyes were brilliant with desire and wonder. "You're going to drive me mad, aren't you?" He threaded his fingers through her elegantly styled hair, gripped a handful, and forced her head gently back. He kissed her throat.

Iphiginia trembled beneath the sensual assault. And then she was kissing him with a passionate ferocity that seemed to have sprung from nowhere. She strained to taste him, touch him, feel him.

She loved the feel of his skin beneath her lips. The scent of him Idled her head. The strength in his hands thrilled her.

"Marcus. "I told you last night that I am in need of a real paramour."

He slid one hand down to her waist and then he spread his fingers over her hip. He squeezed gently, crushing her white silk skirts. When she moaned, he moved his palm lower, took a handful of silk in his fist, and raised it to her thigh.

Iphiginia was startled by the feel of stone directly against the back of her leg. She opened her eyes, confused and disoriented.

"I do not-"

"Hush." Marcus covered her mouth with his own, sealing her halfhearted protest behind her lips.

He braced her against the statue behind her. He slid his hand up along her stocking-clad leg past her garter and wrapped his fingers around her bare thigh.

Iphiginia flinched in reaction.

To her astonishment, he stiffened. "Does my touch offend you? Do you find my hands rough on your soft skin, Mrs. Bright?"

"No," she managed in a thin voice. She clung to him. "I love your hands, sir." She kissed his jaw. "They are so," Words failed her, "…so…»

"Yes?" He stroked his rough palm along the inside of her leg.

Iphiginia gasped and buried her face against his shoulder. "So very exciting," she whispered.

He seemed to relax. "I'm pleased that you are excited." He dropped a small kiss on her ear. His fingers flexed on her leg.

Iphiginia could hardly breathe. No man had ever touched her so intimately. She was stunned by the sensations roiling within her.

She reminded herself that Marcus believed her to he an experienced widow, not a naive innocent. She must not allow him to notice that she was close to being overwhelmed by lovemaking.

"Sir, I am not at all certain this is either the time or the place for this sort of thing. Someone might walk in on us." Iphiginia knew that she did not really want him to stop. What she wanted was for him to go more slowly. But she could not explain to him that she needed time to adjust to the new and disturbing demands of passion.

"Calm yourself, Iphiginia. We are alone in this chamber. No one is likely to walk in on us."

Without any warning, Marcus raised her leg and hooked it over a stone arm. Her skirts fell back along her thigh, exposing her completely. Marcus's palm went straight to the hot, damp place between her legs.

Iphiginia shrieked very softly in astonishment. "My lord."

Marcus kissed her deeply, cutting off the soft, startled sound. He stroked her deliberately.

Iphiginia froze. Her fingers locked on his shoulders. She was an experienced widow, a woman of the world…

"My God, you feel good," Marcus whispered thickly. He sounded pleased and somewhat awed. "Do you always respond this readily?"

Iphiginia tried to answer, but she could not speak. She kept her hot face pressed against his shoulder and shook her head quickly.

"No? The late Mr. Bright did not have this effect on you then?"

Iphiginia could not lift her head. Frantically she shook her head again. "No."

Marcus drew one finger slowly between the soft-plumped folds of feminine flesh. "And your previous lovers? Did you grow this moist and this hot this swiftly for any of them?"

Iphiginia was nearly beside herself now. Her fingers bit so deeply into the fabric of his coat that she was surprised she did not poke holes in it.

"Did you, Iphiginia?" Marcus touched an unbelievably sensitive spot.

"No," Iphiginia yelped, her voice muffled. "No, my lord. Indeed, I do not-"

"Have there been many?" Iphiginia could barely think. "Many what?" she asked distractedly. Oh, God, he was doing something to that special place. Rubbing it, tugging gently, circling it with his finger. Everything inside her lower body was twisting into a knot.

"Have there been many lovers since your husband went to his reward?" Marcus eased a finger a very short distance into her feminine passage.