Where it might have ended she knew all too well, but suddenly there was a clatter in the hall, dangerously close to the door, and the sound of a knock at the front door and Marigold’s voice raised as she greeted whoever was on the step. Reality intruded. Alice gave a gasp and drew back, clasping her chemise and the bodice of her gown to her with fingers that shook, and desperately tried to return her clothing to something resembling normality. Her feelings, she thought, would take a little longer to repair. She had been washed far beyond the shores of all that was familiar and safe.

There was a taut, burning look in Miles’s eyes that sent another echo of desire tumbling through her and then he was standing and had drawn her to her feet, as well.

“Let me help you-”

Somehow his tenderness shook Alice even more than his passion had done. She had never expected this gentleness from him.

“I…I must…” Alice’s fingers slipped on the buttons and Miles carefully put her hands aside, finishing the task himself. Her breasts still felt tender and swollen rubbing against the material of her shift, and her whole body was aroused to fever pitch. Alice raised a hand to her hair and realized the extent of the damage. “Excuse me,” she said rapidly, “I really must go and tidy my clothes-”

She pulled back from him and his hands fell to his sides. She thought that she would make it to the door unscathed but even as her shaking hand slipped against the handle, Miles caught her by the wrist and jerked her back against his body. She could feel his erection hard and strong against her thigh and she shivered again.

“Don’t forget that we have a bargain, Alice,” he said softly. “Don’t ever forget it.” There was a bright, hard look in his hazel eyes. He ran his thumb over her lower lip and Alice shuddered.

“I won’t,” she whispered. She raised her chin, a flicker of spirit asserting itself in her. “You will be the one who breaks his word and loses.”

Miles laughed and released her. “No, I will not. Now that I have had a taste of what is waiting for me at the end of it I have every incentive to keep to the terms.” He bowed to her. “I will go now to place the announcement of our betrothal in the papers. I will see you at the subscription concert tonight.”

Alice backed out of the parlor. Her legs shook as she climbed the stairs, but she made it to her room and slammed the door behind her, collapsing on her bed. Her body still hummed with arousal and thwarted desire. Her mind still reeled from all she had learned and experienced and the fact that she wanted much, much more. There was no denying that she was in deep, over her head.

She rolled over on her bed and stared at the drapes above her. She had learned that whatever physical demand Miles made of her she would match. Even in her innocence she had known that she wanted all he could give her. She shivered once again with awareness and unsatisfied need. Miles had shown her the sensual depths of her own nature. He had made her forget that he had forced this betrothal on her and had shown her that no matter how much she hated his coercion, she did not hate him. That shocked her deeply, for she wanted so much to despise him for representing everything that she rejected, for being like every other callous, arrogant nobleman who had ever looked on a maidservant with nothing but lust.

She could not simply blame her traitorous body that even now craved the satisfaction that only Miles could give. That would have been bad enough, she thought. But the feelings within her went deeper than that. Her instinct cried out that she knew Miles, deep in her heart, in her soul. But that affinity had to be false. It absolutely had to be.

Alice got up slowly and reached for the ewer of water on the dresser, splashing the cool, fresh liquid onto her face in the hope that it would help clear her head. There was nothing other than blackmail that bound her to Miles Vickery. That was the stark truth and she had to remember it.

CHAPTER TEN

MILES STOOD IN THE DOORWAY of the great hall of Drummond Castle and watched whilst they sold Drum from under him. With each fall of the auctioneer’s gavel another part of his inheritance was traded away. The wooden globe from the nursery his cousins had shared had gone for no more than a bare few shillings. The battered box of tin soldiers that he had fought over with his cousin Anthony during their school holidays had barely raised a single bid. It was fortunate, Miles thought, that none of the previous marquises of Drummond were alive to see how low the family had fallen. They would be spinning in their graves as it was. Barlow and Richardson, estate agents and auctioneers of fine quality property, had been trumpeting the sale for the past week:

A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to purchase a part of the ancestral manor and possessions of the marquises of Drummond, including all lands and properties not entailed on the estate and all contents of Drum Castle, from the fine chandeliers and silver cutlery to the chamber pots and kitchen pans!

Miles shifted his broad shoulders against the hard stone of the doorway. Someone at the auctioneering house evidently had a good turn of phrase and an eye for advertising, for the sale had attracted crowds of people from Harrogate, Ripon and the surrounding villages. The great hall was packed. Barlow and Richardson would make a tidy profit from the three-day sale and the money would go some way toward paying off the hideous pile of debt that Miles had inherited along with the Drummond marquisate.

Miles’s glance rested for a moment on the figure of his mother as she sat very still and very upright in the back row of seats, flanked by Philip on one side and Celia on the other. Frank Gaines, he was interested to see, was sitting on Celia’s other side. The Dowager Lady Vickery had shuddered at the vulgarity of the whole commercial process but had insisted on being there to support her elder son through what she referred to as his ordeal. Miles wished that she had not. Whilst the sale of Drum was not as personally painful for his mama as the sale of Vickery Hall had been, it was still unpleasant. Miles’s pride was in the dust and his family name with it. Seeing Lady Vickery’s pain reminded him all too vividly of her distress and grief when his father had banished him. The anger stirred in him and for a second it blotted out all else before he suborned it ruthlessly to his will.

In the front row of seats sat the Duke and Duchess of Cole, bidding vigorously on various items like a pair of horse traders. Faye Cole had sympathized with Miles in a transparently insincere manner that had set his teeth on edge:

“My dear Lord Vickery, such a dreadful business! I am so sorry to see your family brought so low…”

“My dear Duchess,” Miles had said pleasantly, “I am afraid that I do not give a damn for either my family or your pity.” He had left her with her mouth hanging open.

Remembering Alice’s strictures on honesty, Miles had assured himself that it was true. He did not care for Drum Castle and he did not care what people thought about him selling off his heritage piece by piece.

A couple of rows behind the Coles sat Lady Elizabeth Scarlet with John Jerrold dancing attendance on her. Alice Lister and her mother were with Lady Elizabeth. It had not occurred to Miles that Alice would attend the sale, and he felt a bitter twist of the knife within to think that she had come to witness his downfall. In an odd way it felt like some sort of betrayal. The cynic in him said it was no more than he deserved since he had obliged her to accept his proposal of marriage because he was ruthlessly materialistic in his pursuit of her fortune. Yet he found he was still angered that she had chosen to attend.

The announcement of his engagement to Alice had caused less of a stir in Fortune’s Folly than might have been imagined. Everyone knew that he had courted Alice for her money the previous year and the on dit was that she had simply gained a better bargain now that he was a marquis, even an impoverished one. No one was surprised at the apparent trade of money and title. It was the way of the world. Only Lowell Lister and Lizzie Scarlet had expressed any public doubts or disapproval.

In the week since the engagement was announced Miles had escorted Alice and her mother, in the role of overexcited chaperone, to the spa and to the circulating library, to concerts and breakfasts. They had danced together. He had even dined at Spring House. The food had been excellent. Alice had been reserved and quiet, holding herself back and making it quite clear that she was acting the part of his fiancée under sufferance. She also gave him absolutely no opportunity to be alone with her again, and for the present Miles was prepared to indulge her in her attempts to keep him at arm’s length. For the present only, and only because he knew that denial usually strengthened desire.

Miles had been interested to see how far Alice would let him go that day in the parlor at Spring House. He had recognized the sensuality in her from the very start, realizing that underneath her cool exterior was banked a fire that could brand a man to the heart. What he had not expected, in his experience and cynicism, was that her open and artless response to his lovemaking would be enough to push him to the very edge of control. It was a surprise to him but not, he told himself, a problem, other than that he was not accustomed to denying himself sexual satisfaction. He was certain that once he had made love to Alice his attraction to her-his obsession with her-would diminish. It had to do. Nevertheless, three months still seemed like an unacceptably long time to have to court her.