He stood gazing into the fire, one of his hands braced on the stone chimneypiece. She had a hundred questions she'd like to ask him, to enable her to understand him better. But he acted as if he'd already forgotten her presence and the deeply personal experience that had seared her soul.

After tomorrow, she would never see him again. The knot in her throat prevented her from saying good-bye. She left quietly, slipping out into the cold, dark corridor and feeling her way back to her bed, where Miss Gilbert still snored in blessed oblivion. M'lord awakened and wagged his tail, and Helen hugged him briefly before crawling beneath the covers. She closed her eyes, remembering the joy and beauty the MacBrut had shown her. No, not the MacBrut. Alexander.

Alexander had made love to her. With his tender touch, he had transported her to paradise. Belatedly she realized the folly of believing she would be content after learning the mystery of it. Once was not enough. Already she missed the warmth of his arms and the excitement of his kisses. Already the place between her legs ached to be filled by him. Only him.

Alexander.

She turned restlessly, hugging her pillow. It was foolish to desire the unattainable. She would leave here on the morrow and never return. She'd had her adventure and now it was over.

Yet as she fell asleep, Helen wished with all her heart for the chance to charm him into doing it again.

Chapter Four

He wanted to do it again.

That was Alex's first thought the next morning on seeing her emerge from the stone keep, the little spotted lapdog trotting at her side. Alex was returning from the stables where he'd tended to the horse, using physical activity to block out all memory of his mistake the previous night. Now that mistake was walking straight toward him.

Lady Helen Jeffries.

He stopped dead in the middle of the snowy courtyard. Half of him wanted to turn and run, but not his lower half. The sight of her transfixed him: the sunshine gilding her fine blond hair, the jaunty spring to her steps, the crimson cloak skimming a figure that had haunted his dreams.

He should never have touched her. He should have listened to logic instead of thinking with his cock. The last complication he needed in his life was a freshly deflowered female-especially when she was a fashionable English lady.

He should stride away in the opposite direction. Better he should follow her lapdog that bounded away to examine the perimeter of the yard. But Lady Helen waved a gloved hand at Alex, and the smile brightening her face caught him with the force of a steel trap.

"Good morning," she called gaily as she picked a path through the drifts. Her boots crunched on the snow, and a band of white bordered the hem of her cloak. Without warning, she skidded on an icy patch.

Alex sprang to save her from a nasty tumble. His arms shot around her, and he found himself holding her close to his swiftly beating heart. Despite his resolve, he was seduced instantly by her slim, curvy form and womanly scent, her rosy face and dancing eyes.

"Goodness," she said, laughing. "I didn't know the ground was so slippery."

He grunted, hoping she would take the hint that he didn't want her company. But even as he stepped back, she chattered on.

"What a fine day it is." Opening her arms wide and tilting her head back, she turned to survey the blue sky. "There isn't a cloud to be seen, and the wind has died down. Have you checked the road yet?"

He gave a curt nod.

"And? Is it covered in snow?"

"Aye," he admitted grudgingly.

"Oh, do let's have a look."

She took hold of his elbow, and he had no choice but to walk her to the arched gate. He felt the softness of her breasts as she leaned into him for support. He glanced at her suspiciously, wondering if she were play-mi; the seductress again. But she was gazing ahead, mak-iii!', sprightly comments on the weather and the scenery.

He had ruined her. With no more than a twinge of ‹ on science, he had plucked England 's fairest flower. Lust and a twisted need for revenge had overridden his scruples, and he had seized the chance to claim a prize from the country that had stolen so much from him. If anyone in London society were to find out, she would be shunned, ostracized.

Never would he forget his shock on finding her standing outside his bedchamber. Or his swift, searing response to hearing her hesitant explanation: I came to see you. To be with you.

There was no need to feel at fault. She had, after all, sought him out.

Yet guilt sank its teeth into him. She didn't deserve to be punished. She'd had nothing to do with the pain in his past.

"Oh, dear," she said. "You're right."

Alex blinked, realizing they stood at the verge of the steep, downward slope. Snow sparkled on the forested mountains as far as the eye could see. "Right?" he said cautiously.

"The road looks quite impassible. We are snowed in." She sounded cheerful, like a child freed from performing her daily chores. "We daren't transport Mr. Abbott down this slippery hill. That means we shall have to remain here for at least another day. Don't you agree?"

Being stranded here in the company of Lady Helen Jeffries only made Alex more testy. Rather than admit she'd surmised correctly, he said, "The snow willna last. 'Tis beginning to melt already."

He could hear the drip-drip of icicles from the castle walls and the surrounding trees. Gold and red leaves peeked from beneath the blanket of white. It was far too early in the season for the freezing temperatures to continue. By tomorrow, the road would be clear.

In the meanwhile, he had no intention of enduring the company of an Englishwoman. Especially not one who posed a damnable temptation to him. He had been too long without a woman, that was all.

"I've work to do," he muttered, and stalked away.

"Wait," she called from behind. "Don't go yet. I wanted to tell you something. It's about last evening."

He froze. "There's naught to tell."

"Please, Alexander. This is important."

The husky way she said his name made him turn uneasily to see her standing in the opening of the gate. The high stone arch and iron portcullis made her appear more dainty than ever.

She clasped her gloved hands in front of her. The chilly breeze tugged at the tendrils of her hair. A rosy hue tinted her cheeks, and she shyly dipped her chin. "I wanted to explain why I came to you last night."

Hell. What was it about women that made them want to analyze an act as natural as breathing or eating? "You were curious," he said bluntly. " 'Tis best forgotten."

Helen nodded. "I was curious. I wanted to know what went on between a man and a woman. Because, you see, I shall never marry."

She paused, gazing at him so earnestly he felt the tightening of interest in his chest. But he said nothing. If he didn't encourage her, maybe she would spare him her unwanted confidences.

"Five years ago," she went on, "I was betrothed to the heir to a. dukedom. We'd grown up together, and Justin was like a brother to me." She lowered her gaze to her clasped hands. "But only weeks before our wedding, I found out he'd… seduced another woman. My half sister."

"The devil!" In spite of his resolve to remain indifferent, Alex had to clench his teeth to keep from denouncing the aristocracy.

"It's for the best, though it took time for me to realize that. Now Isabel and I are the best of friends. She belongs with Justin, not me. I was only in love with the idea of being a bride-with planning a big wedding and buying a trousseau." Helen ruefully shook her head. "How silly I was. Now, I like my freedom. Instead of being saddled with a husband and a family, I've traveled all over Europe and Africa and Asia. I'm only telling you this because…"

She remained silent so long he prompted, "Because."

"Because I wanted you to know how grateful I am to you for making love to me."

He felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. "Grateful?"

"Why, yes." Her voice lowered to a throaty murmur. "You made my first experience so very beautiful. And I wanted to thank you for that."

He had the violent urge to push her up against the wall and show her another beautiful experience, to hell with the cold and the wrongness of it and whoever might be watching. She stood looking at him, admiration and longing in her clear blue eyes. He could feel himself sweating despite the cold. He did not want her to gaze at him like that, as if he were some sort of hero. Didn't she know a heartless rogue when she saw one?

He deserved to be kicked in the balls, not thanked.

"Fine," he muttered. "Now stay away from me."

Pivoting on his heel, he stalked off and left her standing in the gateway. He had no time to coddle ladies who romanticized the act of copulation. Especially not an English lady who was accustomed to being pampered. The sooner she realized sex was not all sweetness and roses, the sooner she would flee back to England and he'd be rid of her-

Something cold and wet slammed into his head. He clapped his hand to the back of his hair and found melting, icy particles that dripped down inside his collar.

The chit had hurled a snowball at him.

He wheeled around. Another cold missile smacked him in the face. He blinked, shaking his head. Sputtering, he wiped the snow from his eyelashes and saw her hastening toward him.

"Pm so sorry," she said, spoiling the apology with a giggle. "I really don't know what came over me… Alex, are you hurt?"

A mad impulse made him fake a groan and keep his hands over his eyes as if he were in pain. He waited until she ventured within arm's reach. And then he lunged.