Crossing the room, Aurora took the likeness from him and set it back down carefully. "Yes, that is Geoffrey, Lord March," she said, running her fingertips gently over the cherished image.

"I can see why I reminded you of him." Aurora shot him a questioning look and found Nicholas watching her. "When we first met, you said I reminded you of someone who was dear to you. I can detect a certain resemblance between us."

She had forgotten she had ever said that to Nicholas or that she'd ever seen a resemblance in the two men. They were as different as the sun and the moon: one bold and vital, blazing with heat and intensity, the other quiet and soothing and gentle.

"I was gravely mistaken. You are not alike in any respect. Certainly not now that you've changed the color of your hair."

"And you're still in love with his ghost?"

"I don't wish to discuss him, Nicholas." It hurt too much to remember. She gazed defiantly at him. "Would you care to explain what you are doing here? You know it is unwise for us to be together."

He studied her for a moment. "Perhaps, but I thought you could use the company. You said you can't get out much because the conventions of widowhood restrict your movements. And since I had a great deal to do with your claim to widowhood, I feel responsible for making amends."

"I told you, I release you from any responsibility or obligation toward me."

"I'm not certain I want to be released. I took a vow to cherish till death do us part."

"Nicholas… I thought we had settled this. Death did part us, if you will remember? You died and were buried on St. Kitts." Her mouth curved in a mock frown. "Oh, yes, I forgot. That was all a charade, much like the one you are playing now."

Nicholas's lips stretched in a slow smile, but he made no reply. Instead he contemplated her silently with an unsettling, amused gaze.

"What?" Aurora demanded. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I am trying to decide if I like this shrewish side of you."

Aurora took a deep breath. She was acting the shrew, even after she had vowed she would not allow herself to be goaded by his deliberate provocations. It was quite unlike her to let her temper get the best of her. She'd spent her life maintaining strict control over her emotions. But Nicholas Sabine was so very exasperating. And he had agreed to forget their marriage existed. So why was he still acting as if he were her husband, with the right to rule her? Was he going back on his word?

He was gazing down at her now, giving her the full effect of his lazy smile. Aurora wanted to curse him for his irresistible appeal; he knew perfectly well the impact his sensual charm had on her.

"I believe you are being remiss as a hostess, sweet shrew. Aren't you going to invite me to sit down?"

Aurora raised her eyes to the ceiling, but she willed herself to reply serenely. "Very well, Mr. Deverill. Will you please be seated?"

"Ah, excellent. If you could just refrain from looking daggers at me, I might actually believe you meant to welcome me."

With what she considered admirable control, Aurora waited until he had moved over to the settee before taking the chair opposite him, across the tea table.

"So, what shall we discuss?" she asked, folding her hands primly in her lap.

Nicholas simply watched her. After a moment, his gaze dropped to linger on her breasts. Heat rose in Aurora, and she felt a tingling and a swelling of her nipples that she was helpless to control.

"Do I make you nervous, Aurora?" he asked knowingly.

"Yes," she retorted. "The way you look at me is disgraceful."

"What way is that?"

"As if you're undressing me. It makes me highly uncomfortable."

His mouth lifted in a smile of tempting allure. "Good. I never want you to be too comfortable around me."

Aurora shook her head, torn between fury and despair. "You really deserve to be arrested, you know – before you cause a scandal or drive me to distraction."

"Would you really be glad for my arrest? Clune says you were bereft at my presumed death."

Her alarm returned full measure as she remembered Clune. "Surely you weren't mad enough to actually speak to him?"

"I'm afraid so. I decided a truthful approach would be most advantageous, so I revealed myself and told him the entire story about my imprisonment and near hanging."

"And how did he respond?" Aurora asked worriedly.

"Once I swore that I wasn't committing treason against your country, he was perfectly willing to assist my deception. I told him I was only here to see my wife, which is the truth."

Aurora eyed him with dismay. "How could you take such a dangerous risk?"

"Actually it was a calculated risk. Clune is always ‘ripe for a lark,' as he puts it. He also believes in loyalty toward his friends – and he claims me as a friend. He is fond of you, as well. Too fond, in my opinion. He as much as admitted that he'd been bent on your seduction."

Aurora felt Nicholas studying her intently. "I have done nothing to encourage Lord Clune to believe he could succeed."

"So he says. When I warned him to keep away from you, he claimed he had made little progress because you were madly in love with your late husband."

She felt herself blushing. "I had to have some story to explain my abrupt marriage. I thought it best to let people believe I fell in love at first sight."

His flashing smile held a relentless charm. "I rather like that version of the story."

"Yet you and I know the truth. Our union was never a love match – nor was it supposed to last longer than one night."

Nicholas let her comment pass. "You might not have encouraged Clune wittingly, but as a beautiful widow, you are a prime target for men like him. And your resistance only adds to your allure. For a rake like Clune, it's the challenge of the chase that is stimulating."

Her eyebrows lifted curiously. She suspected that while Nicholas might not be as great a libertine as his friend, he knew what drove a rake. "You sound as if you speak from experience. Is that why you still seem to be pursuing me? Because my reluctance to be your wife presents a challenge to you?"

He cocked his head, scrutinizing her with a half-lidded gaze. "Partly, I expect. But it goes deeper than that. As implausible as it may seem, I'm motivated by concern for you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. It disturbs me to see you so limited by the strict observations of widowhood. That you're forced to lock yourself away from the world. This is not India, where widows are burned alive with their husbands' remains."

The tea tray arrived just then, brought by Aurora's very proper butler. She gave a guilty start, realizing their conversation could have been overheard. Vowing to be more discreet, she fell silent until Danby bowed and withdrew.

After offering Nicholas scones and jam and small finger sandwiches, she hesitated, eyeing him uncertainly. This man was her husband; they had been together in the most intimate way possible. And yet she had no idea how he even liked his tea. "Do you care for milk or sugar?"

"Sugar, no milk. I know," Nicholas said wryly, reading her thoughts. "For a husband and wife we are still practically strangers. Perhaps we should remedy that."

"I see no reason for us to become more closely acquainted."

He studied Aurora as she poured tea from the silver pot into china cups. She performed the task as she did everything else, with a graceful elegance that was the product of a lifetime of training. The perfect lady. And like most gently bred ladies, she had been raised to honor the stifling codes of society.

Yet she continued to surprise him. Aurora was not like so many of her contemporaries – shallow, vain, self-centered, arrogant – although with her breeding and beauty, she could very well have turned out that way. She had unexpected depths, intriguing facets that he found enchanting, sensual. He had been captivated this morning by the glimpse of her free spirit when she'd galloped in the park. And he'd tasted the hidden fire in her embrace more than once…

There was a keenly passionate woman beneath that ladylike exterior, and he was determined to find her, to chip away at her very proper inhibitions. She was too young to bury herself away in a living tomb of celibacy.

It wouldn't be easy to break through her defenses, though. Not when Aurora held such an aversion to risk, when she was so determined to deny any vestige of desire. Like now. When he took the cup of tea she offered, their fingers brushed, creating a frisson of heat. Aurora drew back as if burned. Averting her gaze, she picked up her own cup, clearly intent on ignoring the attraction between them.

Nicholas felt his resolve harden. She needed shaking up, even though she didn't know it.

"So," he said finally. "Do you mean to live the rest of your life hiding behind your widow's weeds?"

Her blue eyes lifted to his. "What do you mean?"

"You've immured yourself in a prison here. Not one of your own making, but a prison nonetheless. You're a captive of convention and decorum, letting society dictate your every action."

"There is nothing wrong with following the dictates of society."

"There is if you let it drain the very life from you."

Aurora pursed her lips together in a frown. "I am not like you, Nicholas. I want a quiet, orderly life."

"I don't think you do, or you never would have come to my rescue and agreed to wed a stranger."