No. "Yes. I'm not in the habit of making a cuckold of another man. In fact, I've a strong aversion to it."

"He is not yet my husband."

"He is your betrothed and will be your husband in a fortnight." Anger mixed with unwanted jealousy spread through Gideon like a poison infecting his entire body. "Bad enough that I compromised your innocence. In my ignorance of your engagement, I also compromised my honor. I don't take things that belong to others."

Her bottom lip trembled, and she seemed to deflate, as if all her bravado leaked out of her. "You didn't take anything. Still, you're right, of course. I… I should have told you, but-"

"There are no buts," he broke in coldly. "You should have told me. As for last night-it didn't happen."

Her eyes glistened, twin pools of distress that threatened to melt his resolve like ice left out in the sun. Before he could succumb, he advanced a single step, using his size to full advantage, and pinned her in place with his stare. "It did not happen."

To her credit, she didn't back away. She pressed her lips together, jerked her head in a tight nod, then looked at the floor. Silence swelled between them. Then she raised her head, and this time her eyes resembled burned-out ashes, left dead after a fire. "Did my father tell you the engagement will be officially announced at our party here next week?"

"No." Bloody hell, this investigation had better be finished by then, because the thought of being here to witness such an announcement, to see the duke formally claim her, was something he hadn't the stomach for.

"It's going to be the social event of the year," she said, her tone as flat as her expression. "I suppose you think I'm very fortunate."

"Aren't you?" he asked, a bitter edge to his voice.

She looked away, trailing her fingers over the piano keys, then moved to the fireplace where she stared down at the low-burning flame.

"Fortunate… I'll be a duchess. By virtue of marrying a man I barely know. A man I care nothing for and who cares nothing for me. Fortunate… I'll live in a magnificent home. That is hundreds of miles away from my dearest friends and everything familiar to me. Fortunate… I'll have more baubles and gowns than I could ever wear and will never want for anything."

She turned to look at him, and the combination of anger and hopelessness in her eyes seemed to reach inside his chest and squeeze his beating heart. "I'll have everything except a husband's love. A husband I love in return. Laughter. Friendship. Companionship. Passion."

Her expression tore at him, replacing a portion of his anger with an unwanted compassion that compelled him to say something, anything, that might offer some comfort. "Perhaps you'll come to care for him." He forced the words out, and they tasted like sawdust on his tongue.

A humorless laugh escaped her. "Obviously you've never met the duke."

"I've met him." And disliked him on sight.

"Then I fail to see how you can suggest I'd ever come to care for him. If I had to describe him in one word, it would be humorless. Still, given his exalted position and handsome visage, most anyone would consider me very fortunate indeed."

"But you are not 'most anyone.'" He hadn't realized he'd spoken the words out loud until she nodded in response.

"Apparently not, as I consider myself trapped. Although not by His Grace himself. In truth, it wouldn't have mattered which of my suitors Father had chosen, as they are all interchangeable with the duke: men I barely know who don't care for me beyond my dowry, nor I for them. None of them inspire the least excitement. Light the slightest spark within me." Her gaze flicked to his mouth, and heat shot through him as if she'd stabbed him with a hot knife. "Do you know what I am talking about?"

Did he know? Bloody hell, the mere thought of her made his heart pound. The mere sight of her set him on fire. "Yes, I know."

She took a small step toward him, and his heart jumped. "How?"

Because you're here. Close enough to touch. "I've experienced lust. Passion. Desire." His eyes narrowed. "As recently as last night. As you damn well know."

"What about love? Have you ever been in love?"

An image flashed through his mind. Dark hair, dark eyes. He shoved it back, but he couldn't deny it. "Yes." And he had loved Gwen. Yet still, what he'd felt for the woman he'd known and loved three years ago seemed utterly tame compared to the maelstrom of conflicting, unwanted, confusing emotions Julianne inspired. But then, what he'd felt for Gwen had been… simple. Uncomplicated. While it had lasted.

"Was it… wonderful?"

"No. It was painful." He dragged his hands through his hair, ruthlessly battering back the memories that shoved at him. "Your romantic notions are unrealistic and will lead you only to heartbreak."

"Was your heart broken?"

He pressed his lips together. Bloody hell, how had the conversation drifted on to these treacherous waters? Time to change the subject. But then he frowned. Maybe he should tell her. Give her a taste of what the real world was like. The world beyond the castle of riches and privilege in which she dwelled. Maybe then she'd realize how lucky she was. And quit looking at him with those vulnerable eyes that reflected her every emotion, that gazed upon him far too frequently with admiration. Which would certainly help his ability to resist her.

"Yes, Princess," he said with a sneer. "My heart was broken. By a woman I'd planned to marry."

His revelation clearly surprised her. "What happened?"

Memories rammed into him, and for several seconds he felt crushed under their weight. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came forth. Anger and sorrow and guilt clamped his throat shut around the words that still, after three years, remained so precariously sutured. He swallowed, painfully, then the words suddenly poured out of him, words he hadn't spoken since it had happened. "She died. She worked as a maid. I always came to escort her home, but one night I was delayed. Instead of waiting for me, she walked alone. And was accosted by a footpad. She fought back, but he was stronger. And had a knife." His hands clenched, and the fury he'd felt at the time rose in him again. "He stole what little money she had. Then gutted her like a fish. She died in my arms."

"Dear God. Gideon…" Her eyes filled with a combination of horror and sympathy. With her gaze on his, she walked slowly toward him. His instincts warned him not to let her get too close, but he felt as if he were nailed in place. She stopped less than an arm's length from him. He wanted to look away, walk away from her, but he simply couldn't move. Reaching out, she gently laid her hand on one of his clenched fists. "I'm so sorry. Inadequate words, I know, but I don't have any others." She hesitated then said, "The monster responsible… was he apprehended?"

Another wave of dark memories washed over him. "Yes. I caught him. In the act of hurting another woman. She survived. He did not." Gideon had made damn sure of that.

"You saved that woman's life. And undoubtedly many other women's lives by ending his."

"Yes. But I didn't save the life that mattered to me."

She gently squeezed his hand. Heat rushed up his arm, filling him with anger that she could affect him so effortlessly. "I'm sorry your heart was broken in such a cruel way."

Her words yanked him from the past, and he forced himself to recall the here and now: his sense of betrayal. He pulled his hand away from hers and stepped back. "My heart is none of your concern," he said in a harsh voice. "What should concern you is your penchant for lying."

"If you're referring to the duke-"

"You know damn well I am."

"I didn't lie."

"You didn't admit the truth. That's the same thing."

"Actually, it's not." She raised her chin. "Have you admitted everything about yourself to me?"

"Seems to me I just admitted a whole damn lot." Certainly more than he'd meant to. "You know everything you need to know-the whole of which is that I've been hired to protect you and to catch whoever tried to enter your bedchamber last night."

Her gaze again flicked down to his lips. "Based on what you just told me and what happened between us last night… I know more about you than that, Gideon."

Another wave of heat suffused him, this one settling in his groin. "Which you'd be best to forget. As I intend to."

She shook her head and moved a step closer. "I'll never forget."

He sucked in a quick breath, and his head filled with the scent of vanilla. Want and need swamped him, threatening to overwhelm his resolve. He could-and would-remain in control. He could not-and would not-touch her. He looked into her eyes, a mistake, as they reflected a combination of confusion, hope, and such longing it seemed to rip his chest open. And evaporate his anger like a puddle in the desert.

"Will you really be able to forget?" she whispered, her gaze searching his face. "Did what we shared truly mean nothing to you?" Her bottom lip trembled. "Am I that forgettable?"

He had to fist his hands to keep from giving into the choking need to snatch her against him, a fact that bloody well irritated him, a feeling he grabbed in desperation. "As I said earlier-and you agreed-last night did not happen. We shared nothing. What is this-another hunting expedition for compliments, Princess? I suggest you ask one of your many admirers, or here's a novel idea-your fiancé-to shower you with admiring words. If you can't wait until one of them calls, go look in the mirror, wallow in your extreme loveliness"-he spat out the last two words as if they were poison-"and spout your own bloody accolades."