Lottie knew that she should not care if he went out and drank, or struck up a fight with someone, or did any of the numerous foolish things that men in search of amusement did. She should not want to soothe his barely contained fury. But she did.

Without allowing herself time to consider her actions, Lottie approached him, touching the fine broadcloth of his coat with her palm. Her hand smoothed over the fabric and eased inside. His waistcoat was the same inky black as his coat, but the material was silkier, slipping a little over the hard delineation of his chest muscles. She thought of how hot his skin must be, to impart such warmth to the thick garment.

Nick was suddenly motionless, his breath changing to a slower, deeper rhythm. Lottie did not look at his face but concentrated instead on the knot of his gray necktie as her fingers explored the snowy, fragrant folds of his shirt.

"I don't want a reprieve," she said eventually and tugged at the knot until it slid loose.

As the necktie unraveled, it seemed that his self-control became similarly undone. He breathed more heavily, and his hands clenched at his sides. Inexpertly she unfastened the stiff collar of his shirt and spread it wide to reveal the amber sheen of his throat. She glanced up at his face and saw with a quake of sudden nervousness that his fury was transforming rapidly into pure sexual need. Color crept across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, a burnished glow that made his eyes look like blue fire.

His head lowered very slowly, as if he were giving her every opportunity to flee. She stayed where she was, her eyes closing as she felt the barely perceptible touch of his mouth on the side of her neck. His lips brushed the sensitive skin, parted, and the silken tip of his tongue stroked her in a delicate, hot circle. With a shaky sigh, Lottie leaned forward into his body as her legs wobbled beneath her. He did not touch her with his hands, only continued to explore her neck with exquisite leisure. She held onto him, her arms locking around his lean waist.

His hands came to her shoulders, gripping softly. He seemed undecided as to whether he wanted to pull her closer or push her away. His voice was hoarse as he asked, "What are you doing, Lottie?"

Her heart was hammering so wildly that she could barely summon the breath to speak. "I suppose I am encouraging you to finish what you started in Lord Westcliff's library."

"Be certain," he said roughly. "I haven't had a woman in six months. If you suddenly decide to stop, I'm not going to take it well."

"I won't tell you to stop."

He stared at her, his gaze fever-bright, his face hard. "Why now, when you didn't want to last night?"

That was beyond her ability to explain. After the events of this afternoon, he suddenly seemed vulnerable to her. She was beginning to see the ways in which he needed her, needs that went beyond sexual desire. And the challenge of taming him, matching his powerful will with her own, was too tempting to resist.

"We're married now," she said, seizing on the first excuse she could think of. "And I would prefer to...to have done with this, so that I won't have to dread it."

She saw the predatory flicker in his eyes. He wanted her. He did not waste time asking questions, only extended his hand. "Come upstairs, then."

Carefully Lottie placed her hand in his. "Nick, there is just one thing..."

"What?"

"It's not dark yet."

"And?"

"Is it appropriate to do this in the afternoon?"

The question pulled an unsteady laugh from him. "I don't know. And I damn well don't care." Keeping her hand in his, he guided her from the library to the entrance hall, and up the grand staircase.

CHAPTER 9

Lottie went upstairs with him, her hand caught fast in his, her legs feeling like rubber when they finally reached his bedroom. The curtains were parted, admitting soft gray light through the windows. She would have much preferred darkness. The thought of being naked in the unforgiving daylight caused her to shake all over.

"Easy," Nick murmured, standing behind her. His hands closed gently around her upper arms. His voice was lower, thicker than usual. "I'll be careful. I can make it pleasant for you, if..."

"If?"

"If you'll trust me."

They were both still and silent. Lottie moistened her lips, reflecting that she hadn't trusted anyone in years. And to put her faith in Nick Gentry...the most unscrupulous man she had ever met...it was not folly, it was insanity. "Yes," she said, surprising herself. "Yes, I will trust you."

He made a soft sound, as if the words had caught him off guard.

Gradually his hand slid across the upper part of her chest, exerting a gentle pressure that caused her to lean back against him. She felt his mouth on the back of her neck, his lips playing through the tender wisps at her nape. He tasted the downy skin, then pressed the edge of his teeth in a sensitive spot that made her squirm against him in pleasure. Working his way to the side of her neck, he nibbled his way to the tip of her earlobe, while his hands moved over the front of her gown. The bodice parted, the sides listing to reveal the framework of the light corset beneath. His fingertips drifted to her throat, caressed the vulnerable curve, then traveled to the wing of her collarbone.

"You're beautiful, Lottie," he whispered. "The way you feel and taste...your skin, your hair..." He took the pins from her hair, sent them skittering to the carpet, and sank his fingers into the pale silken locks that fell over her shoulder. Bringing her hair to his face, he rubbed it against his cheek and chin. Heat played in her body, rising, intensifying, and she leaned back against the solid form behind her.

He eased her gown to her waist, helping her to extract her arms from the sleeves, his fingertips running lightly from her elbows to her underarms. Turning her to face him, Nick deftly unhooked the corset, releasing her from the wrapping of stays and laces. Her breasts, which had been propped artificially high in the boned supports, were left unconfined, the tips hardening against the thin crushed muslin of her chemise. His hand lifted, and he touched her through the sheer fabric. Sliding his fingers beneath the fullness of her breast, he drew his thumb over the shape of her nipple. His touch was very light, lingering at the tip until it burned.

Gasping, Lottie grasped his shoulders for balance. He slid a solid arm behind her back as he continued to toy gently with her body, taking the peak in his fingers, stroking softly. An ache of pleasure formed deep in her stomach as he cupped her breast in his hand, containing the roundness in his palm. Suddenly she wanted him to touch her other breast. She wanted his mouth on her, everywhere, and to slide her own lips across the heat of his skin, and to feel his unclothed body against hers. Frustrated and eager, she tugged at his coat, until his choppy laugh ruffled through her hair.

"Slowly," he whispered. "There's no need to hurry." He removed his coat...waistcoat...stockings and shoes...trousers...shirt...and finally the linens that had obscured the startling sight of his erection.

Suddenly Lottie didn't know where to look. He should have appeared vulnerable in his nakedness, but he seemed more powerful now than when he'd had his clothes on. His body was hewn with brutal grace, large and muscular and superbly fit. His bronze tan ended at his waistline, fading into the paler skin of his hips. A wealth of thick dark hair covered his chest, and there was another heavy patch of it at his groin, around the dark, upthrust length of his erection.

Nick's fingertip traced the side of her scarlet cheek. "Do you know what is going to happen?"

Lottie nodded jerkily. "Yes, I think so."

He stroked the underside of her chin, his fingertip leaving a trail of fire. "Who told you about it? Your mother?"

"Oh, no. She was going to explain everything to me the night before my wedding to Lord Radnor. But of course that never transpired." Lottie closed her eyes as he caressed the side of her neck, his hand warm and a bit raspy from callouses. "I heard gossip at school, though. A few of the girls had...done things...and they told the rest of us about it."

"Done what things?"

"Met in private with gentlemen friends, or cousins, and allowed them liberties." Lottie opened her eyes and met his smiling gaze, refusing to look below the level of his collarbone.

"How far did the liberties go? As far as we went the other night?"

"Yes," she forced herself to admit.

"Did you enjoy the way I touched you?" he asked softly.

Color blazed in her face, and she managed a jerking nod.

"You'll enjoy the rest of it, too," he promised, reaching for the hem of her chemise.

Obeying his wordless urging, she lifted her arms and let him strip away the garment. She kicked off her slippers and stood before him in her long drawers and stockings, with her arms crossed over her bare breasts.

He stood over her, his hand trailing over her back, raising gooseflesh on every inch of her skin. "Put your arms around me, Lottie."

She obeyed awkwardly, bringing her body fully against his. Her nipples sank into the coarse mat of curls on his chest. His body was incredibly hot, his erection burning through the muslin drawers. It prodded against her stomach, until he slid his hand beneath her buttocks and hitched her upward. His hand slid between her buttocks to hold her compactly against him, and she felt him press against her sex. A shock of sensation went through her, followed by a surge of lust so acute that she could hardly bear it. Gripping his neck, she pushed her face against the dense muscle of his shoulder. His fingers slid farther between her thighs. The linen beneath his fingers became damp as he stroked the soft furrow in a lazy rhythm. For a long, blissful minute he held her like that, warming her with his own body until she began to strain against the ridge of his erection.