Her eyes widening, she stepped backward, bringing the bag in front of her as if to shield herself from him. “I…I don’t…”

“Of course, my mistake, milady. Please. Do go and take up residence with these complete strangers. Of course, this is what you’d wanted all along, is it not? To be puffed up like some fine lady, to be able to court your duke on even ground? Ah yes. I can see by the expression in your limpid blue eyes that I am correct. I shall not importune you further, Miss Ramsey.” He swept an exaggerated bow, nearly choking on his own bile-filled venom.

“Avery, please. Don’t act like this.” When he straightened, she stepped close to him. Reaching her hand upward, toward his cheek, she whispered, “Listen, I…”

He knocked her hand away, staggering backward as if burned. “Do not touch me.” But that wasn’t what he really wanted. He wanted to pull her into his arms and press his lips to hers, but he could not ruin her, no matter how much he wanted her.

Her fingers curled into a fist, which she dropped down by her side. “Fine. Have a nice life, Mr. Russell.”

As she turned, the sweet, exotic scent of her tantalized him. She marched up the stairs toward the street.

“Miss Ramsey?”

She stopped but did not turn. “Yes?”

“I wish you well,” he said in a low voice.

She nodded and then was gone, taking Avery’s sense of peace with her.

A moment passed, then two, and with each heartbeat Avery’s regret grew. When the torment grew too much to bear, he sprinted up the stairs to chase after Leah.

Her back was rigid as she strode quickly down the lane. She was nearly at the corner now. He watched her walk away for a long moment, warring with himself. What the devil was wrong with him? He should be glad to see the back of her. She’d caused him no end of trouble. So why did he long to chase after her and apologize?

He shoved a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing he’d not secured his queue. Damn. She’d done more than upset the household; she’d upset his internal balance. Best to get back to it. He had a journey to prepare for and a mill to attend. As distasteful as both propositions were, what choice did he have?

He turned and reluctantly made his way down toward the kitchen door, but voices ground him to a halt. A man and woman arguing? The woman’s voice grew louder and more insistent.

“I told you, I’m not interested.”

Miss Ramsey.

Without another thought, Avery leaped up the stairs and sprinted after her. Adrenaline pounded through him, forcing his footsteps faster. She needed him. He’d been right to worry. She was unprepared and vulnerable and in no position…

He stopped suddenly, gravel crunching beneath his boots. Miss Ramsey stood over Lachlan Mackenzie, who was moaning and grabbing his crotch as he lay in a heap on the gravel.

“Maybe next time a woman tells you she’s not interested, you’ll take her a little more seriously.” She glared at the man and nudged him with the toe of her boot.

He would thrash Mackenzie. Later. For now, he directed his attention to Miss Ramsey. Her eyes were alight with anger, and her chest heaved with exertion and outrage. She was the picture of a warrior goddess, strong and decisive. The antithesis of a meek and demure female, but strangely he was drawn to her even more at the sight.

“Miss Ramsey, are you injured?” You simpleton, she is obviously not. But he could think of nothing else to say. If the stable master had laid a finger on her, Avery would not simply thrash him. He’d kill him.

She glanced over at him without losing her cross expression. “No, I’m fine. Just had to explain some basic communication skills to gropey-boy here.” Hefting the bag in her right hand, she sniffed. “Well, I’m going to try this leaving thing again. See ya.”

This time, when she turned, he reached out a hand and stopped her.

“Miss Ramsey.” No, that was too formal. “Leah.”

Her face softened slightly as she tilted her chin upward to look into his eyes. “Yes?”

I should not. I cannot. He must, and he did.

Stepping toward her, he closed the short distance between them. His hand trailed from her shoulder to the delicate curve of her neck, higher to tangle into the hair at her nape. Her lips, pink and pale in the breaking dawn, parted slightly on a breath.

“Avery?” The question was whispered, her eyes soft and confused as she looked up at him.

He let his actions answer. Bending low, he pressed his lips to hers.

Soft heat. That was the sensation of her mouth on his. His muscles trembled with the effort of holding himself still, of restraining the urge to draw her body tight against his and possess her completely. This was enough. It was more than he deserved and all he’d ever get. She was leaving here, leaving him, forever.

Her breasts just barely brushed his chest. He imagined he could hear her heartbeat, stuttering and thundering just like his own. She opened her mouth wider, and he let his tongue explore the wet recesses of her mouth.

God, she tasted so sweet. Like sugared mints, clean and delicious. He swallowed his groan and swept his tongue across her soft, full lips. No woman could be this perfect, this maddening, this…

A cough from the ground below them broke the spell, and Avery stepped back, reluctantly breaking the most incredible moment of his life.

He looked away from Leah, afraid of what he’d see in her face. He focused on the man lying in the dirt instead.

The stable master moaned and struggled to his feet. “You’ll pay for that, Russell.”

Avery moved between Leah and Mackenzie. The man was in no shape to threaten her further, but Avery would take no chances with her safety. Watching the stable master limp away, reality suddenly slammed into him.

Oh dear God, what had he done? If they’d been seen, she’d be ruined.

Shame filled him, replacing the fingers of pleasure that had warmed him at their kiss. “Miss Ramsey, I do apologize. I wish you much happiness.”

Without stopping to see if his apology was accepted, he turned and strode toward the house. He must get away, must separate himself from her. She was too good for him.

He should never have allowed himself to soil her so.

* * *

Leah stared after Avery, wondering what the hell had just happened. She pressed a trembling finger to her lips.

He’d kissed her.

Well, that had been unexpectedly incredible.

He’d been sweet, tentative, but demanding at the same time. She blew out a shaky breath, willing her knees to stop threatening collapse. She needed to get herself together.

It was only a kiss. She’d been kissed before.

Not like that, her subconscious whispered.

She mechanically picked up the bag that she’d dropped when he leaned down to her, and walked toward the street. Her thoughts flopped around like rapidly breeding Tribbles.

He’d never given her any indication that he was attracted to her. As a matter of fact, every time she’d touched him he’d backed away like his ass was on fire. How was she supposed to read signs that didn’t exist?

Had she completely screwed up this whole trip by chasing after the wrong man?

“Oy, watch ye’self!”

She staggered backward to avoid getting trampled by a horse and cart. The driver shot her a dirty look as he passed by. Walking around in such a daze was dangerous for more than herself. Shaking her head to clear it, she walked in the direction Lady Chesterfield had told her to go. Walk now. Think later.

She may not know exactly who she was here to fall in love with, but she did know she desperately needed a friend to talk to. Lady Chesterfield and Jamie’s maid Muriel were the best shots she had at some objective advice. But she had to make it there in one piece.

The sun had risen by the time she made it to Hanover Square. Setting her jaw, she marched up the steps to number four and knocked. The large door squeaked open slowly, revealing an ancient-looking butler. His long, hooked nose sported a sizeable mole, and his eyebrows, well, eyebrow, was composed entirely of curly white hair.

“The servants’ entrance is in the back of the house, miss.”

She had to hand it to him. He used that beak to his advantage, looking down at her over it as if he was the king of England. Before he could firmly close the door in her face, as she assumed was his idea, a trilling, cheerful voice floated down the stairs.

“Graves, do let the poor gel in. She is our guest, not a common kitchen maid.”

With a pained look, Graves stepped aside to let her in.

Lady Chesterfield, dressed in a flamboyant red robe, stood on the landing.

“Oh, my dear, how lovely to see you. Graves, take her things. Is that all you’ve brought? But of course it is, no matter. Come, come.”

With an emotion that could safely be labeled ridiculously heavenly relief coursing through her, Leah trotted up the stairs after Lady Chesterfield.

“I’m sorry it’s so early,” she said as the older woman bustled into a bedchamber almost as large as His Grace’s had been. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Lady Chesterfield laughed as she pulled a velvet rope at the bedside. “No matter, dear, no matter. I shall rest when I’ve cocked up my toes. Now”—she clapped her hands together delightedly, eyes wrinkling at the corners as she smiled—“do sit down. Muriel shall bring us some chocolate, and then we shall make our plan of attack.”

Leah sank into the chair that Lady Chesterfield had pointed to, relaxing gratefully into the softness. She hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been carrying ever since she’d tumbled into Avery’s arms from that mirror.