Nick remained by the fire, relaxed except for his clenched fist on the mantel. Silently he damned Westcliff for this turn of events. Nick had planned to impart the news to Lottie in a gentle way, and soothe her fears before she had a chance to fly into a panic. Now Westcliff had fouled things up considerably, and Lottie was understandably hostile.

She turned to him, her face pale, her eyes reddened from her tears. Her expression was composed, however, and she looked at him with unsettling intensity, as if she were trying to see inside his mind. Her searching gaze made him feel oddly threatened.

"Was it all an act?" she asked quietly.

Nick blinked. He, who had endured countless hours of scrutiny and interrogation and even torture, was completely thrown off by the question.

"I know that some of it was," Lottie said. "It was part of your job to gain my trust. But you went quite a bit farther than necessary." She approached him with hypnotic slowness. "Why did you say those things to me tonight?"

God help him, he couldn't answer. Worse, he couldn't look away from her, and she seemed to be staring through his eyes into his soul.

"The truth, Mr. Gentry," she insisted. "If I can bring myself to ask, surely you can bring yourself to answer. Did you mean any of it?"

Nick felt a light sweat break out on his face. He tried to close her away, to deny her, but it was impossible. "Yes," he said hoarsely and clamped his mouth shut. The devil take her if she wanted him to say anything more than that.

For some reason, the admission seemed to make Lottie relax. Nick couldn't begin to imagine why. Finally managing to rip his gaze away from hers, he stared blindly into the dancing firelight. "Now," he muttered, "perhaps you can explain what the third option is."

"I need protection from Lord Radnor," she said bluntly. "Few men would be able to hold their own against him. I believe that you could."

The statement was matter-of-fact...there was nothing complimentary in her tone. Nevertheless, Nick felt a flicker of masculine pride that she recognized his abilities.

"Yes, I could," he said evenly.

"Then in return for your protection and financial support, I would be willing to be your mistress. I would sign a legally binding contract to that effect. I think that would be enough to keep Lord Radnor at bay-and then I would no longer have to stay in hiding."

His mistress. Nick had never anticipated that she would be willing to lower herself that way. However, it seemed that Lottie was ultimately a pragmatist, recognizing when she could not afford to keep her principles.

"You'll let me bed you in return for my money and protection," he said, as if the wordmistress required definition. He threw a cautious glance at her. "You will live with me, and accompany me in public, regardless of the shame it causes you. Is that what you're saying?"

Her cheeks turned bright red, but she did not look away from him. "Yes."

Desire flooded every part of his body with primal heat. The realization that he was going to have her, that she would give herself to him willingly, made him light-headed. His mistress...but that wasn't enough. He needed more of her. All of her.

Deliberately he went to the settee, a somewhat utilitarian piece upholstered in stiff burgundy leather, and he sat with his legs spread. He let his gaze travel over her with pure sexual appraisal. "Before I agree to anything, I want a sample of what you're offering."

She stiffened. "I think you've sampled quite enough already."

"You're referring to our interlude in the woods this evening?" He made his voice very soft, while his heart pounded violently in his chest. "That was nothing, Lottie. I want more than a few innocent kisses from you. Keeping a mistress can be an expensive proposition-you'll have to prove that you're worth it."

She came to him slowly, her slim form silhouetted in the firelight. Clearly she knew that he was playing some kind of game with her, but she hadn't yet realized what the stakes were. "What do you want from me?" she asked softly.

What he'd had from Gemma. No, more than Gemma had ever given him. He wanted someone to belong to him. To care about him. To need him in some way. He didn't know if that was possible...but he was willing to gamble everything on Lottie. She was his only chance.

"I'll show you." Nick reached out and caught her wrist, pulling until she half-sat, half-toppled beside him. Sliding a hand behind the nape of her neck, he bent over her, finding her pulse with the tip of his tongue. At the same time, he brought her hand to his crotch, cupping her slender fingers around the straining shape of his erection. She stiffened and gasped, suddenly leaning against his chest as if her strength had deserted her. Gently he drew her hand up the length of his shaft, to the round head that pushed impatiently against the taut broadcloth.

A ragged sound escaped him, and he tugged at her blouse, filled with gratitude to whoever had designed a garment that made a woman's body so mercifully accessible. Her exposed breasts gleamed in the firelight, their tips soft and pale pink. Lottie turned her face to the side, her eyes tightly closed. Pulling her farther over his lap, Nick cradled her in one arm, while her bottom rested on the rigid mound of his erection. His calloused fingers slipped beneath one bare breast, lifting the silken weight to position her for the slow descent of his mouth. A quiver went through her as he opened his lips over the tender nipple, stroking until it strained against his tongue. Lottie's hands half-raised as if to push him away, but suddenly her fingers clutched around the lapels of his coat, and she let out a whimper of pleasure. The sound electrified him. He used his tongue to trace circles around the stiffening nipple, making her writhe like a cat in his arms.

While he continued to suckle and tease her breasts, he slid his hand beneath her skirts, finding the plain hem of her drawers and the thick cotton garter that fastened her stockings. Becoming aware of the hand that intruded beneath her skirts, Lottie clenched her legs together, a crimson blush spreading over her face and breasts. He caressed her over the crumpled linen, sliding his palm over her hip and stomach, then moving to the soft curls lower down.

"Don't," she said, her eyes still closed.

Nick kissed the pink curve of her throat and the fine edge of her jaw. Her skin was so thin and satiny that it was almost translucent. He wanted to kiss her from head to toe. "That's not how a mistress talks," he whispered. "Are you reneging on your offer, Lottie?"

She shook her head, unable to speak as his palm pressed on her mound.

"Then spread your legs."

She complied jerkily, her thighs parting, her head falling back against his supportive arm. He caressed her over the fragile fabric, gently rubbing the hot furrow until the linen became damp beneath his fingers. He was aroused by her efforts to stay quiet and still, her face turning scarlet, her legs stiffening as he teased her intimately. Finally she moaned and clutched at his wrist imploringly.

"That's enough," she gasped.

His cock pulsed violently beneath her. "Is it?" he whispered, sliding his fingers into the open slit of her drawers. "I think you want more."

Her body jerked in his lap as he found softly matted hair...plump silken flesh...the wet entrance to her body. Kissing the arch of her throat, Nick played with the velvety thicket. "Sweet little curls," he breathed near Lottie's ear. "What color are they, I wonder? Blond, like the hair on your head? Or darker?"

Shocked by the question, Lottie stared at him with an unfocused gaze.

"It's all right," he said, opening the soft cleft. "I'll find out for myself...later."

She arched as he found the tender peak that had been hidden by the protective folds. "Oh...oh, God-"

"Shhhh." He nipped the lobe of her ear. "You don't want Westcliff to hear, do you?"

"Stop that," she said shakily.

But nothing would stop him now. He caressed her skillfully, circling the point of delicate fire. Her buttocks lifted away from the hard length of his erection as her hips strained toward his hand. He brushed the swollen bud with the calloused tip of his thumb and slid his middle finger inside her, until it was completely submerged in the luscious channel.

Lottie's breath shortened, and her thighs clamped around his hand as he thrust and withdrew his finger in an easy rhythm. He felt her inner muscles tauten as she labored and twisted, fighting instinctively for release from the excruciating tension. Nick lowered his head to her breasts once more. The tips were taut and rosy now, and he blew against one of them softly before drawing it into his mouth. With his finger sunk inside her, and her nipple throbbing against his tongue, he experienced a triumph he had never known before.

Lottie struggled helplessly as climax remained elusive, a moan of frustration escaping her. Withdrawing his finger from the sweet depths of her body, Nick settled his damp hand on her taut stomach, rubbing in soothing circles. "I'll take care of you later," he murmured. "I promise."

Lottie moaned again, arching desperately against his hand. He knew what she wanted, and he longed to give it to her. His nostrils flared as he detected the heady perfume of female desire. Heat pumped through him, and he nearly lost all self-control as he thought of burying his face between her thighs, plunging his tongue inside her...

He shuddered as he forced himself to pull her skirts down, covering the sweet flesh he craved. Westcliff was waiting nearby, and now was not the time or place to indulge himself further. Later there would be time to make love to Lottie at his leisure. Patience, he counseled himself, taking a few steadying breaths.