Now, however, with her safety assured and the inn a looming shadow rising up out of the night before them, he was starting to wonder at her silence.

About what it might mean. About how she felt about their interlude, their intimacy-a moment, a happening, etched in his mind as one of the more important of his life. Quite aside from the physical glory, there was that other, indefinable, elusive, but fundamental change that had occurred, one he, certainly, wasn’t going to waste time pretending hadn’t.

Drawing in a breath, he halted. “Lydia, about-”

“Ro, in the library-” She swung to face him, and broke off.

They’d spoken over each other. He nodded, a trifle tersely, for her to continue.

She drew in a breath and lifted her chin; in his experience, that was rarely a good sign.

“I wanted to make sure we understood each other”-she gestured vaguely-“about what happened in the library.”

Through the gloom, he caught and held her gaze. “When we found the letter, or later, when we were intimate?”

Her lips tightened, but she nodded. “The latter. I wanted to assure you that you need be under no apprehension that I will mention the matter again, and I most certainly will not expect you to make, nor encourage any notion of you making, an offer for my hand because of that…matter.”

Matter. He stared at her. “Didn’t you like it?”

She blinked at him, then swiftly searched his face. “What has that to say-”

“Lydia-did you enjoy the moment or not?”

She held his gaze for a long, tense minute, then tipped her chin higher. “Yes. Of course I did. But you knew that-you’re an acknowledged expert, so that can hardly come as a surprise to you.”

He snorted. “When it comes to you-and your sister-nothing would surprise me. But just so we have the point clear, you enjoyed the interlude.”

Her eyes flashed. “If you must know, I found it highly enjoyable. Quite lovely, in fact.”

Lovely. He supposed he could make do with “lovely,” although “eye-openingly, unbelievably, earth-shatteringly glorious” would have been more apt.

“Regardless,” she went on, her tone giving warning of rigid determination, “I want to make it absolutely clear that I neither expect nor wish to hear any nonsense about you being obliged to offer for my hand because we were intimate.” She turned and started walking on, nose in the air. “I want to hear nothing of an offer having to be made on the basis of honor. Aside from all else, if anyone ever hears of it and tries to press the point, I will make it perfectly plain that I seduced you, not the other way about.”

Wonderful. Ro gripped her elbow, steering her along the verge while he regretfully jettisoned the until-then attractive notion of disguising his offer for her hand as being prompted by the dictates of propriety.

They reached the point opposite the inn. Because they’d arrived at the Grange by cart, she wasn’t wearing pattens; he stooped and scooped her into his arms.

She didn’t squeak; he juggled her, settling her securely in his arms, then carefully picked his way across the lane, equally carefully mentally assessing his best and least painful way forward with her. He would rather not admit to the real reason he was determined to make her his wife-certainly not aloud in words. There were, however, other ways to undermine her arguments; he wasn’t called Rogue for no reason.

He reached the inn’s stoop. Her continuing silence registered; the quality of it had him glancing swiftly at her, alert and wary.

The faraway look in her eyes confirmed she was thinking, planning-again, from his experience, never a good sign. Not if one wanted a comfortable life.

“What?” he asked.

She blinked, met his gaze, studied his eyes for a moment, hesitated, then shook her head. “Nothing.”

He gritted his teeth. Told himself it didn’t matter because he had no intention of letting her out of his sight, not until he’d spoken with her father, then received from her own lips a commitment to marry him.

Stooping, he set her down on the inn’s front step, and paused to scrape the soles of his boots. She remained on the step, glancing down the lane-away from the highway, in the direction she would take to return to Wiltshire.

He decided to be helpful. “The mud’s still too soft to risk a carriage-not even my curricle.” And certainly not his precious pair. “If there’s any rain at all overnight, we’ll be stranded here at least until the day after tomorrow. Even if there isn’t, it’s unlikely the surface will be firm enough to chance a carriage before then.”

She humphed and glanced the other way-back toward the highway and London.

“It’s even worse that way,” he told her. “The highway will be better, but there’s more than two miles of lane between.”

She looked at him as he straightened, then turned and walked into the inn.

He followed, inwardly smiling, and shut the door. He glanced at the counter, at Bilt hovering behind, ready to respond to any order he might give. “We should dine.” It was always wise to feed a woman after an afternoon of pleasure, especially if one intended the pleasure to be repeated over the upcoming night.

Bilt looked eager.

Halting, Lydia turned; she looked distracted again, a slight frown in her eyes.

He smiled charmingly, strolled to her, and took her hand. Raising it to his lips, he kissed-and saw again that dazed expression creep into her blue eyes. Still smiling, he held her gaze. “No doubt you’d like to refresh yourself after our adventure. Shall we say in an hour, in the parlor?”

She blinked, then inclined her head. “Indeed. That will suit.”

Releasing her hand as she turned to the stairs, he raised his brows at Bilt. “I expect Mrs. Bilt will be able to accommodate us?”

“Yes, indeed, my lord,” Bilt assured him. “In an hour in the parlor-we’ll have everything ready.”

With an easy nod, Ro slowly followed Lydia up the stairs. She wasn’t the only one who could plot and plan.

Ro was waiting in the parlor when Lydia came down for dinner. It was the more intimidating Ro who, arm braced along the mantelpiece while he stared into the flames, looked up, then straightened as she entered, the immaculately turned-out gentleman, exquisitely elegant but with disguised power radiating from him

A gentleman she seriously doubted many others thought to cross.

She let her eyes drink in the sight, then shut the door behind her and moved into the room. Only then did she realize Bilt was there, pouring wine into the goblets on the table set before the fire.

The table was set for two, and it was clear Mrs. Bilt had taken special care. The linen was crisply white; the cutlery gleamed in the light of a single candle in an ornate silver holder in the table’s center.

As she came forward, Ro took her hand and led her to a chair. He held it for her. As she sat, he murmured, low, so only she could hear, “No roses, I’m afraid, but it’s midwinter, and we’re too far from any of my succession houses.”

She inwardly blinked, turned her head to study him as he came around the table and sat in the chair opposite. Expression easy, charmingly in control, he nodded to Bilt, who immediately appeared with a tureen and served the soup.

That done, Bilt set the tureen on the sideboard and bowed himself out.

Not quite sure, wondering, Lydia lifted her spoon and sipped. The soup was delicious. She discovered she had a significant appetite, and Ro seemed ravenous. A companionable silence fell as they emptied their bowls.

The instant they had, Bilt was back to clear the dishes away; while he did, he answered Ro’s genial question about what Mrs. Bilt had in store for them with a detailed account of the dishes to follow.

Once Bilt left, Ro turned his gray eyes and his smile on her-and asked her about Tabitha. She wasn’t at all sure she trusted that smile-outwardly easygoing, yet she got the definite impression that behind it he was intent, focused, predatorily so-but she answered his question, then proceeded at his urging to fill him in on developments in her family over recent years.