His heart swelled at the word. Lover. His lover slept next to him, on her side, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. One of her slender arms was thrown across his chest, her hand resting above his heart. The weight of a shapely leg curved to rest over his thighs.

Her long hair fanned out like a chestnut halo, spilling over her shoulders, onto his chest. He gently rubbed the silky strands between his thumb and forefinger. Like the rest of her, her hair was beautiful. And satiny soft.

Her warm breath puffed against his shoulder, filling him with a rush of possessiveness unlike anything he'd ever before experienced. This woman was his. They belonged together. After the passion they'd shared during the night, the emotional and physical bond they'd forged, she could not possibly refute it. When she awoke, she would know. With the same certainty he did.

The sound of rain lashing against glass drew his gaze to the windows. The storm that had threatened earlier was upon them. He looked at the mantel clock and sighed. Almost dawn. The household would soon stir. As much as he hated to leave her, he needed to return to his own bedchamber. Now-before he was discovered in a manner that would impinge her honor and reputation. Now-before he gave in to the temptation to kiss her awake and continue their sensual exploration of each other.

Easing himself from the bed, he quickly gathered his clothing. With one last look at her sleeping from, he slipped silently from the room, secure in the knowledge that he would not have to leave her bed like this for much longer. For soon she would be his wife.


********

Lester Redfern looked out the dingy window of his small room and uttered a curse. Here it were, rainin' like to make up for a century-long drought. He ground the stubs of his teeth together. He should have left London yesterday, but he hadn't wanted to miss the cockfight at The Hound's Tooth last night. He'd won five quid, but now it seemed liked a poor wager. How the bloody hell were he supposed to know the skies would open up? Now how were he supposed to get to Bradford Hall? The roads would be nothin' but wheel-eatin' ruts. The only other choice were horseback, but he didn't own a bloody horse, and he hated the beasts besides. Nasty, ill-tempered, stupid brutes that bit him and smelted. Not to mention the poundin' his arse would take ridin' all that way. Could things get any bloody worse? The instant the question popped into his mind, he shoved it aside. With the way his luck were run-nin', it were best not to ask.

But, if he didn't go, didn't get the earl's bloody note from that bloody woman… his eye twitched and he swallowed hard. No, not goin' to the country weren't an option. Rain or no, he had to go. Had to finish this damn business once and for all.

Today.

Chapter 16

Late in the morning following her night with Robert, Allie stood in front of the cheval glass and examined her reflection. Even with the meager light due to the gray, drizzling skies, even garbed in her usual black, she could discern the unmistakable glow. It sparkled in her eyes, glimmered on her flushed cheeks, announced itself in the small, secret smile she could not erase from her lips.

She had not felt so wonderfully alive, so vibrant and exhilarated, in three years. Her body hummed with pleasure, her pulse jumped every time she thought of the previous night… which was constantly. Turning, she looked toward the bed, now neatly made. But she instantly visualized herself and Robert among tangled sheets, their limbs entwined, touching, tasting, exploring. And God help her, she could not wait to do it again.

Surely everyone would guess. How could anyone look at her and not know? The look of a well-pleasured woman rested upon her like a cashmere shawl, and nothing-not the long bath she'd indulged in, or the gray weather, or her somber attire diminished it. She did not regret her actions, yet she needed to employ caution. Discretion. It was one thing to take a lover… it was quite another to have his entire family know about their liaison.

But how could she hope to be in the same room with him and act normally? Now that she knew how firm and smooth his skin felt beneath her fingers? Now that she'd seen his eyes darken with passion and need as he buried himself in her body? Knew the sound of his voice as he groaned her name in release?

You won't be able to, you fool. You never should have-

Squeezing her eyes shut, she bludgeoned back her inner voice, as she already had more times than she cared to count since she'd awakened. Robert was her lover. Nothing more. They would enjoy the pleasure they brought each other until it was time for her to leave England. And then it would be over.

Once again her inner voice tried to interject, but she forcibly closed her heart and mind to its unwanted warnings. It was time to venture downstairs… to visit with Elizabeth's family. And face her lover.

With butterflies of anticipation fluttering in her stomach, she turned toward the door. Before she took one step, however, someone knocked.

Good Lord, could it be him? "Come in," she called, pressing her hands to her midsection to calm her jitters.

Caroline entered, her face wreathed in smiles, her arms wrapped around a large rectangular box. "Good morning, Allie… or rather afternoon." She walked to the bed, where she deposited the box. "Did you sleep well?"

Heat rose in Allie's cheeks. "Very well. Just later than I expected."

Caroline waved a negligent hand. "Lounging about in bed until early afternoon is what rusticating in the country is for. I ventured downstairs myself only a few minutes ago, where I discovered this"-she pointed to the box-"waiting for you. According to Fenton, it had just arrived from London. Since I could not wait to see what you'd purchased from Madame Renee, I brought it up to you. Her creations are simply divine."

Allie frowned in confusion. "Madame Renee? There must be some mistake. I did purchase two gowns from her shop, but they were both delivered to me before I departed London."

Caroline's eyes goggled. "Heavens, with you being in town only a few days, you must have paid her a fortune to receive your garments so quickly. It normally takes at least three months. She is, after all, the most exclusive modiste in London." She laughed. "Miles cringes in fear for the family fortune every time I so much as mention the woman's name."

"We must be speaking of two different Madame Renees," Allie said. "The gowns I bought were extremely reasonable."

"There is only one Madame Renee," Caroline said positively. "Her shop is located on Bond Street." Her gaze ran over Allie's black gown. "What you're wearing-it is from her shop. As was the gown you wore yesterday. Her flawless workmanship and style are easily recognizable. I'd meant to ask you yesterday how you managed to have her fit you so quickly. You must let me in on your secret."

"But I have no secret. Your brother brought me to her shop and…" Her voice trailed off as suspicion filled her. Surely Robert had not… no, he could not have.

Caroline's eyes lit up with unmistakable interest. "Robert brought you? To Madame Renee’s? Voluntarily?"

Caroline's incredulous tone left little doubt that such an excursion was extraordinary behavior on her brother's part.

"I'd asked him where I might purchase some new attire," Allie said hastily, squashing her indignant conscience into submission.

"I see," Caroline murmured, but a wealth of curious speculation lurked behind the two innocent words. "Well, let's see what Madame sent you," she urged. "Perhaps it is a shawl or some other accessory for one of the gowns you bought."

"Perhaps," Allie conceded doubtfully. "But I fear there has been a mistake."

Yet the instant she parted the pink-and-white striped tissue paper and caught sight of the shimmering copper-hued material beneath, her breath stalled, and she knew there was no mistake… at least not the sort she'd initially suspected.

"How beautiful," Caroline enthused. "What an extraordinary color. It is perfect for you."

As if in a daze, Allie carefully lifted the gown from its bed of tissue. It was the most exquisite garment she'd ever seen, a fluid fall of golden topaz, elegant and understated in its simplicity. She recognized the material as that which she had admired in Madame Renee's shop. And there was only one way a gown such as this could have been commissioned.

Robert.

A myriad of emotions buzzed around her like a swarm of bees, confusing her with their contrariness. Clearly he'd lied to her about Madame Renee and the prices she charged. It was equally clear he'd subsidized her purchases, and based on Caroline's words, it had cost him dearly. And this creation must have set him back a fortune.

A part of her heart melted at his thoughtful, gallant consideration in attempting to provide her with the means to purchase new gowns in a way that would leave her pride intact. But then, the very nature of his gesture trod irrevocably upon her hard-earned independence. She did not need him, or anyone, to purchase her clothing. She refused to be in another man's debt ever again.

But what struck the most painful blow, leaving her simultaneously hurt and angry, disappointed and disgusted, was the fact that he'd lied to her. Perhaps his intentions had been good, but damnation, she could not abide being lied to. For any reason. And while she was undeniably angry with him, she was doubly so at herself. For letting down her guard. For allowing herself to believe, to foolishly hope for even one minute, that he would not lie to her as David so often had.