Stephen stared at her, robbed of speech. Why hadn't he anticipated that she'd ask him to stay? As far as she knew, he could work anywhere, so why not Halstead? Jesus, what a mess he'd made of things. He had to tell her immediately that there was no chance he could do what she asked.

"Hayley, I-"

"I love you, Stephen."

The softly spoken sentiment rammed into Stephen, cutting off his words, all his thoughts entirely, eliminating his ability to breathe. Completely. Irrevocably. He looked at her, and clearly saw the words reflected in her gaze.

She loved him.

This wonderful, unselfish, beautiful angel loved him. He felt like a royal bastard. What was he going to do now?

"Hayley, I must tell you-"

She placed a single fingertip over his lips, cutting off his words. "I didn't tell you so you'd feel obligated to say it back. I told you because I simply couldn't hold it in any longer. And I wanted you to know, to absolutely know without a doubt, that I want you to stay. And if you do stay, you will always be a welcome part of our family."

A huge lump lodged itself smack in the middle of Stephen's throat. He tried to clear it away, but it remained firmly in place, like a lump of dry breadcrumbs. He closed his eyes and fought to control the battle raging inside him between his noble intentions and his desires. If he didn't get away from her quickly, he knew which one would claim victory. But it was impassible to think with her words echoing through him. I love you, Stephen. I love you, Stephen.

He didn't deserve her love. Jesus, she didn't even know who he really was. She was in love with Stephen Barrettson, gentleman tutor. She'd turn away from him in disgust if she knew he'd lied to her all this time-that he was really a dissolute nobleman with a string of paramours, a superficial excuse for a family, and a killer after him. The thought of her ever looking at him with disgust in her eyes, the trust and love fading from her gaze to be replaced with dislike, made Stephen ache with a hurt that sliced him in two.

He had to do what was best for her. No matter how much it cost him.

Drawing a deep breath, he resolutely took her by the shoulders. Looking into her eyes, he prayed she would see the depth of his regret. "Hayley. I have nothing to offer you. I can't give you the things you deserve. The things I want for you. As much as I want to, I cannot."

His words drained the shimmers of fragile hope from her eyes, extinguishing the gentle longing, leaving emptiness where want had trembled only moments ago. Her hurt sawed at his insides like a dull blade.

Pulling away from him, she walked to the window and stared out into the black night. He stared at her straight back, and it took every last ounce of strength he possessed not to go to her, to take her in his arms. Make her his own.

When she finally turned to face him, her fingers were knitted together and her gaze remained steadfastly downcast. "I understand. Please forgive my shocking forwardness. Obviously you do not want…"Her voice trailed off and she squeezed her eyes shut.

The sight of her, crushed and humiliated, destroyed him, shattering him from the inside out. He closed the space between them in two long strides and gripped her shoulders. "Do not want? Do not want?" He drew a ragged breath and a mirthless laugh escaped his throat. "God Almighty, Hayley, I want you so badly, I'm shaking. I want you so much I can't sleep at night. I ache for you all the time."

He captured her hand and dragged it to the front of his breeches, pressing her palm against the hard ridge of flesh there. "That is how much I want you. Constantly. Whatever else you think, don't ever think I don't want you."

Hayley froze, the heat of Stephen's manhood pulsing against her palm. Emotions battered her from all sides, like a ship caught in a hurricane's fury. He wanted her. Not in the same way she wanted him, but the evidence of his desire for her was real and unmistakable. And so very compelling.

Her mind rebelled against her yearnings, screaming that she had so much to lose, so much to risk. Her reputation, her family's respect. What if she became pregnant?

Yet her heart simply would not be denied. She was six and twenty years old. In all those years she'd been many things. A sister, daughter, friend, nurse, caregiver.

But she'd never been a woman.

She looked into his beautiful eyes, so stormy with restrained passion, intense with a need she never dreamed she could inspire in a man. She could no more walk away from him, from the burning sensual promise emanating from his very skin, than she could pull the moon from the sky.

She wanted to experience that passion, and at no one else's hands but his.

Stephen studied her flushed face and nearly dropped to his knees by what he read in her eyes. That single look sealed her fate.

Raw sensation swept through him, and he consigned his conscience to the devil. He crushed her to him, his mouth plundering hers, his tongue demanding entrance to her warm mouth. He feared his intensity might frighten her, but she welcomed his kiss, twining her fingers through his hair, rising up on tiptoes to press herself against him. Every part of her fit him perfectly, all her peaks and valleys fitting against his as if the gods had fashioned them expressly for each other. His arms tightened around her, yet he could not seem to get her close enough. He wanted to simply absorb her into himself, into his very skin. Into his very soul.

His lips blazed a warm trail down her slim throat, his head filled with the intoxicating scent of roses and the sound of her throaty moans. He lifted his head when his lips reached the neckline of her nightgown.

Staring into her eyes, Stephen slowly unbuttoned the gown to her waist, his fingers trembling but never faltering. When he finished, he parted the material, sliding it over her shoulders and down her arms. He let go and the gown sank into a puddle around her ankles.

His gaze dropped and his breath caught in his throat. She was incredible. Absolutely perfect.

Her full breasts stood proud, their coral peaks hardening under his intense stare. Her small waist flared to round hips, tapering down to long, slender legs. The sight of the chestnut triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs threatened to obliterate whatever control he imagined he still possessed. Taking her hands, he twined their fingers together.

"You're beautiful, Hayley. So incredibly beautiful."

His heart felt swollen. Exposed. Unfamiliar emotions bombarded him, plummeting from all sides. She stood before him, tall and proud, but her huge eyes and the rapid rise and fall of her chest betrayed her nervousness.

Disentangling their fingers, he ran his hands up her arms, over her shoulders and down her back. He lowered his head and kissed her, slowly, with lingering tenderness, coaxing her to relax. His tongue lightly traced her lips, savoring her, teasing her until she melted against him and wound her arms around his neck.

He seduced her slowly, with his mouth and hands, wanting to make this experience everything she wanted. Everything she deserved. Angels deserved heaven, and for this one precious night he was going to give it to her, or die trying.

Trailing his hands up and down her back, from her shoulders to her buttocks, his fingers caressed her soft skin. She squirmed against him, her breathing erratic, her breathy sighs the most erotic sounds he'd ever heard.

When his palms caressed the sides of her breasts, he reveled in her quick intake of breath. Leaning back enough to watch her, he feathered his thumbs lightly over her nipples. She rewarded him with a gasp of delight.

Filling his palms with her sensitive flesh, he teased her with his fingers, then lowered his head, flicking his tongue over her erect nipples. She exhaled a long, deep sigh, and tunneled her fingers through his hair, bringing his head into more intimate contact with her breasts.

Stephen laved her nipple, his tongue gently rubbing her, then drew the aching peak into his mouth and suckled. His lips moved back and forth, alternating breasts, until her moans commingled into one long, heartfelt murmur of pleasure.

He ran one hand down her body, his fingers entangling in the soft curls between her thighs. "Spread your legs for me, Hayley."

She obeyed and he caressed her wetness, separating the swollen folds of womanly flesh. Flesh no one but him had ever touched. Flesh that was already hot and wet. For him. A rush of possessiveness hit him like a brick to his head. This woman was his. Only his. He gently slipped a finger inside her, groaning when her velvety walls clutched him.

Her eyes slid shut and she clung to his shoulders. "Stephen," she whispered.

The sight of her flushed face, her lips moist and reddened from his kiss, the feel of her warmth surrounding his finger snapped his control. He wanted, needed, her hands on him. All over him. Wanted them skin to skin. Now. He quickly stripped off his clothes, then stood perfectly still before her, allowing her eyes to take in all of him, giving her time to look her fill. Her gaze drifted slowly up and down his body, and he gritted his teeth, aching for her touch but allowing her the time she needed … until he couldn't stand it for another second.

"Touch me, Hayley."

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. "I don't know what to do."

"Just … touch me. Feel how much I want you." Reaching out, he guided her hands to his chest.

She splayed her fingers beneath his. "Your heart is pounding," she whispered. "And your skin is so hot."

He lowered his hands to his sides. "Don't be afraid."

She glided her palms across him, tentatively at first, then more boldly, running over his shoulders and back. His muscles bunched and contracted beneath her delicate, unpracticed touch, driving him mad. When her hands drifted lower, to brush across his abdomen, he couldn't hold back his groan.