A bloody tall mountain to climb was what Fate had given him.

Luckily he enjoyed a challenge.

And he always played to win.

Yet he clearly sensed that if he simply laid his heart out for her, told her his feelings and asked her to marry him, she would bolt like a fox chased by a pack of hounds. No, he needed to move slowly. Cautiously. Let her realize, on her own, that she felt all the same wondrous things for him that he felt for her. Because he knew she did. Fate would never be so unkind to allow it to be otherwise. Besides, he clearly recalled Elizabeth's prediction-that he'd find the happiness he sought in London. There was now no doubt in his mind that she'd meant Allie. Well, he'd found her. Now all he had to do was keep her safe from the maniac who was after her, and convince her that she wanted to give up her life in America and stay in England to marry a man she barely knew. Bloody hell.


********

Allie felt the weight of his stare, and fought to retain her outward air of calm. It had been nearly impossible to ignore him while he was engrossed in his book, but now, with his volume set aside, it was painfully obvious he was engrossed in her.

An unwanted, heated thrill coursed through her. Within seconds her face would flush and he'd know… know she was aware of him and his regard. Would he also know she'd spent a sleepless night, her thoughts in turmoil, her body aching with long-forgotten needs? Needs that she feared would demand to be met now that they were reawakened?

Images flashed through her mind. The early days of her marriage. She'd gone to her marriage bed self-conscious and unsure, but David had quickly cured her of her insecurities. He'd introduced her to passion, and for all his other faults, she could not deny he was a wonderful lover. He'd taught her how to please him and to learn what pleased her. During their first four months as man and wife, not a night had passed without them making love, endlessly exploring each other's body. And while she had never failed to find physical release and satisfaction during their lovemaking sessions, something was missing… something she could not put a name to. Physically, David gave her everything she craved, yet every night she'd go to bed hoping to capture that elusive missing element, but it somehow remained out of reach.

They'd spoken briefly about children… She'd wanted them desperately, and the fact that she had failed to conceive was the only cloud on her otherwise sunny horizon. When she'd expressed concern to David that she might be barren, he'd agreed that she must be, crushing her hopes of becoming a mother. But he'd told her it did not matter, that they had each other and that was all that mattered. He'd been so convincing, she'd done her best to bury her disappointment and concentrate all her energies on him. Even though there would be no children, she had David, and he made her happy.

A bitter sound rose in her throat. She'd been such an incredible fool.

When David's passion had started to wane after those first few months, she'd accepted without question his increasingly frequent explanations of being tired, or not feeling well. Such a fool.

After he'd died, she'd ruthlessly banished every feminine urge and longing he'd awakened in her. And dormant they had lain. Until this man sitting across from her had roused them from their hibernation.

She'd tried mightily, as she'd paced her bedchamber floor last night, to plow through her warring emotions and make sense of them… to talk herself out of this impossible attraction, but to no avail. Her inner battle had continued during this seemingly endless carriage ride, but now it was time to surrender and face the truth.

Robert aroused feelings in her she'd thought long dead, but now that they'd returned, she could not ignore them. She would never marry again, but her status as a widow did give her some advantages.

She could take a lover.

Fiery heat rushed through her at the mere thought. The idea had occurred to her during her endless pacing last night, but she'd thrust it away in fear. But now, after spending the last several hours sitting only several feet away from him, breathing in his musky, masculine scent every time she inhaled, being so painfully aware of him her skin tingled, she could not run from the truth any longer. She wanted him. In a way that exhilarated and frightened her all at the same time. In a way she could not ignore. And based on what they'd shared last night, it was obvious he wanted her as well. They were both unmarried adults; no one would be hurt. She did not need to worry about conceiving a child. As long as they were discreet…

She'd be leaving England in six weeks, if not sooner. They could enjoy each other during that time. Then a nice, clean break. No messy emotions. She would allow him to engage her mind and her body, and leave her heart untouched. It wouldn't matter if he was devil-may-care, or if his past held secrets. Theirs would be only a physically intimate union.

Her inner voice tried to interject, to object, but she squashed it soundly. Yes, an affair might be just the thing.

But how to broach such a subject? Should she simply ask him? Offer it up like a business proposition? What if he refused? She pressed her lips together. Dear God, as embarrassing as it might prove to ask him to become her lover, it would be utterly humiliating were he to turn down her offer. Well, she'd just have to make certain he could not turn down her offer.

The hint of a smile pulled at her lips as she imagined herself in the role of seductress. What would he do if she slid across the seat to sit upon his lap? Sifted her fingers through his thick, dark hair? Brushed her lips over his lovely, masculine mouth?

He d kiss you senseless. Then he d touch you… in all the spots that ache for him. He d strip off your gown and then-

"How is your book?"

The huskily spoken words jerked her from her sensual thoughts. She raised her head, and her gaze collided with his. It was the first time she'd looked directly at him since last night, and the effect of his dark blue eyes, of the unmistakable desire brewing beneath his innocuous question, wreaked havoc upon her already heightened awareness of him.

Heat rushed into her cheeks and her heart skipped one, perhaps two, beats. She swallowed to locate her voice. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your book. Are you enjoying it?"

Book? She glanced down and sanity returned. "Oh! Yes. It's wonderful."

A slow, devastatingly attractive smile lifted one corner of his mouth. "That is an incredible talent you possess. Did your father teach you that as well as juggling?"

"What talent?"

Instead of answering, he reached across the space between them, then plucked the book from her fingers. Without breaking eye contact, he turned the slim volume upside down, then handed it back to her.

Puzzled, she looked down. At the correctly printed words.

Surely the hellfires burning in her cheeks would simply scorch her and leave her in a pile of ashes. She raised her gaze once again, and their eyes met, but instead of the humor and teasing she'd expected to see, his gaze was intense. And completely serious.

"I'm suffering from the same affliction, Allie," he said quietly.

That softly spoken admission arrowed straight through her heart. And erased any doubts she might have possessed. Closing the book with a snap, she carefully placed it on the cushion next to her. Then, gathering her courage, she drew a deep breath and jumped off the cliff into the black abyss of the unknown yawning before her. "I believe I've thought of a solution to cure our mutual… affliction."

"Please, do not keep me in suspense."

Adopting what she hoped was a businesslike tone, she said, "I think we should become lovers."

Surprise flashed in his eyes, followed instantly by a flare of fire, then a flicker of something else that passed too quickly for her to read. He said nothing for several seconds. Then, just as he opened his mouth to speak, the carriage jerked to a halt. They both turned toward the window. A palatial gray stone home stood before them.

Before she could assimilate her scattered thoughts, a footman opened the carriage door and announced, "We have arrived at Bradford Hall."

Chapter 13

It took every ounce of Robert's concentration and will to act normally as he escorted Allie to the massive oak doors. With six softly spoken words she'd literally knocked him sideways. I think we should become lovers.

He simultaneously cursed and blessed the fact that they'd arrived just then-cursed it for preventing him from reaching for her and taking her up on her offer right then and there. Yet blessed it for saving him from saying or doing the wrong thing, granting him a reprieve to gather his thoughts-which would surely be easier once his brain commenced functioning again.

God knew he wanted to be her lover. But he wanted much more than that. The fact that she'd suggested such an arrangement both pleased and aroused him-almost unbearably. Yet it also somehow left him with a distinctly uneasy feeling he could not identify. The irony of the situation hit him full force, and he shook his head. He'd paced a ditch in the floor last night, then sat for five hours in that bloody carriage trying his damnedest to think of a way to get her to want him, only to discover that she did. He stifled a frustrated groan. If only she'd voiced her heart-stopping suggestion five hours earlier…

The doors opened, and they entered the foyer. "Good afternoon, Lord Robert, Mrs. Brown," Fenton said with a bow. "Everyone has been anxiously awaiting your arrival."