"Very well." He nodded graciously and slid his finger under the envelope flap. He slipped a card out, and together they bent their heads down and read:

To the both of you-

Try, if you might, not to be complete idiots.

The note was unsigned, but there was no doubt who wrote it. The long, graceful handwriting was familiar to them both, but it was the words that definitively declared Lady Danbury the author. No one else could possibly be so delightfully rude.

James cocked his head to the side. "Ah, my loving aunt."

"I cannot believe she tricked me like this," Elizabeth grumbled.

"You can't?" he asked doubtfully.

"Well, yes, of course I can believe that. I just can't believe she would use the blackmail plot as bait. I was quite terrified for her."

"Ah, yes, the blackmail." James regarded the unopened envelope, the one marked Read after you've reconciled. "I have a sneaking suspicion we'll find something about that in here."

Elizabeth gasped. "Do you think she was making it up?"

“She certainly never seemed overly concerned by my lack of progress in solving the crime."

"Open it," Elizabeth ordered. "Immediately. Sooner than immediately."

James started to, then stopped and shook his head. "No," he said in a lazy voice, "I think I'll wait."

"You want to wait?"

He smiled down at her, slow and sensual. "We're not yet reconciled."

"James…" she said, in a voice that was half warning and half longing.

"You know me," he said. "You know more of my soul than any other person alive, maybe even myself. If at first you didn't know my name… well, all I can say is that you know why I didn't reveal myself to you right away. I had obligations to my aunt, and I owe her more than I could ever repay."

He waited for her to say something, and when she didn't, his voice grew more impatient. "You know me," he repeated, "and I think you know me well enough to know that I would never do anything to hurt or humiliate you." His hands landed heavily on her shoulders, and he fought the urge to shake her until she agreed. “Because if you don't, then there is no hope for us."

Her lips parted in surprise, and James caught a glimpse of the beguiling tip of her tongue. And somehow, as he stared at the face that had haunted him for weeks, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Before she had a chance to react, he reached out and took her hand in his. "Do you feel this?" he whispered, placing it against his heart. "It beats for you."

"Do you feel these?" he echoed, raising her hand to his lips. "They breathe for you.

"And my eyes-they see for you. My legs walk for you. My voice speaks for you, and my arms-''

"Stop," she choked out, overcome. "Stop."

"My arms…" he said, his voice grown hoarse with emotion. "They ache to hold you."

She took a step forward-just an inch or two-and he could see that she was close, her heart was so close to admitting the inevitable.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you. I see your face when I wake up in the morning, and you're all I dream about at night. Everything 1 am, and everything I want to be-"

She rushed into his arms, burying her face in the warm haven of his chest. "You never said it," she said, her voice nearly strangled by the sobs she'd been holding in for days. "You never said it before."

"I don't know why," he said into her hair. "I meant to, but I was waiting for the time to be right, and then it was never right, and-"

She put a finger to his mouth. "Shhhh. Just kiss me."

For a split second he was frozen, his muscles unable to move in the face of such supreme relief. Then, overcome with the irrational fear that she might disappear in his arms, he crushed her to him, his mouth devouring hers with a mix of love and longing.

"Stop," he murmured, pulling slightly away from her. And then, while she looked at him with confusion, he reached for her hair and pulled out a pin. "I've never seen it down," he said. "I've seen it mussed, but never undone, shining over your shoulders."

One by one, he pulled the pins loose, each lost pin freeing a long lock of pale golden hair. Finally, when it cascaded freely down her back, he held her at arm's length and turned her slowly around. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he breathed.

She blushed. "Don't be silly," she mumbled. "I-"

"The most beautiful thing," he repeated. Then he drew her back to him, lifting a fragrant lock and running it over his mouth. "Pure silk," he murmured. "I want to feel this when I go to bed at night."

Elizabeth had thought her skin had felt warm before, but that comment sent her right over the edge. Her cheeks burned, and she would have used her hair to shield her blush had not James touched the underside of her chin and tilted her head up so that he could look into her eyes.

He leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth. "Soon you won't blush anymore." He kissed the other. "Or maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll keep you blushing every night."

"I love you," she blurted out, not sure why she was saying it now, only sure that she had to say it.

His smile spread and his eyes burned with pride. But instead of saying anything in response, he cupped her face and brought her to him for another kiss, this one deeper and more intimate than any before.

Elizabeth melted into him, and his heat seeped into her body, fueling a fire that already threatened to rage out of control. Her body was tingling with excitement and need, and when he swooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom, she made no murmur of protest.

Seconds later they tumbled onto the bed. She felt her clothing slipping away, piece by piece, until she was clad only in her thin cotton shift. The only sound was that of their breathing until James rasped, "Elizabeth… I won't… I can't…"

She looked up at him, asking all her questions with her eyes.

"If you want me to stop," he managed, "tell me now."

She reached up and touched his face.

"It has to be now," he said hoarsely, "because in a minute I won't be able to-"

She kissed him.

"Oh, God," he moaned. "Oh, Elizabeth."

She should have made him stop, she knew. She should have raced out of the room and not allowed him within twenty feet of her until she stood next to him in a church as husband and wife. But love, she was discovering, was a powerful emotion, and passion ran a very close second. And nothing, not propriety, not a wedding band, not even eternal damage to her reputation and good name, could stop her from reaching for this man right now and encouraging him to make her his.

With trembling fingers she reached for the buttons of his shirt. She had never before taken such an active role in their lovemaking, but heaven help her, she wanted to touch the hot skin of his chest. She wanted to skim her fingers over his powerful muscles and feel his heart pounding with desire.

Her hands trailed down to his abdomen and lingered there for a moment before gently pulling his linen shirt from the waistband of his breeches. With a shiver of pride, she watched as his muscles bunched and clenched under her gentle touch, and she knew that his desire was something too great for him to contain.

That this man, who had chased criminals across Europe, and, according to Caroline Ravenscroft, been chased by countless women, could be so undone by her touch-Elizabeth was thrilled to the core. She felt so… so womanly as she watched her small hand trace circles and hearts on the smooth planes of his chest and stomach.

And as he sucked in his breath and groaned her name, she felt infinitely powerful.

He allowed her to explore him like this for a full minute before a rough growl came from deep in his throat, and he rolled over onto his side, taking her along with him. "Enough," he gasped. "I can't… Not another…"

Elizabeth took this as a compliment and curved her lips into a secret, sensual smile. But her thrill at having the upper hand was short-lived. For no sooner had James rolled her onto her side than he'd rolled her onto her back, and before she could draw in even one complete breath, he was straddling her body, staring down at her with raw need and a very male look of anticipation.

His fingers found the tiny buttons that marched between her breasts, and with startling dexterity and speed he undid all five. "Ah," he murmured, sliding the garment over her shoulders, "that was what we needed."

He bared the tops of her breasts, letting his fingers tickle into her cleavage before sliding her shift down lower.

Elizabeth clawed at the bedclothes to keep from covering herself. He was staring at her with such burning intensity that she felt heat and moisture pool between her legs. He remained still for nearly a minute, not even raising a single finger to caress her, just gazing down at her breasts and licking his lips as he watched her nipples peak and harden.

"Do something," she finally gasped.

“This?'' he asked softly, grazing one tip with the palm of his hand.

She didn't say a word, just fought for breath.

"This?" He moved his hand to the other side, and gently pinched her between his fore- and middle finger.

"Please," she begged.

"Ah, you must mean this," he said roughly, his words lost as he bent over and drew her into his mouth.

Elizabeth let out a little shriek. One of her hands twisted the bed sheet into a tight spiral while the other sank into James's thick hair.

"Oh, that wasn't what you wanted?" he teased. "Maybe I need to pay more attention to the other side." And then he did it again, and Elizabeth thought she surely would die if he didn't do something to release the incredible tension that was building inside her.