Alice had come into the cottage now and was looking around her with a critical eye. Lucas supposed that his housekeeping was not up to her high standards. He spent very little time inside. "Why do men never take care of themselves?" Alice bustled over to the chair, straightening the cushions, peering inquisitively through the darkened doorway into his bedroom beyond.

Lucas shrugged. "Because there's no need." He swung his booted feet down off the table and reached for the basket. There was cheese and bread rolls and a meat pie. His mouth watered.

"Thank you," he said indistinctly, through a mouthful of Scottish cheddar.

She laughed and walked back toward him. "There are other ways in which to thank me, Mr. Ross," she said.

Their eyes met. Lucas felt his stomach churn. There was such avid heat in her gaze as it slid over him, so different from Christina MacMorlan's cool sweetness.

"You flatter me," he said.

"I don't think so." She was coming toward him, sliding the cloak from her shoulders as she did so. He could feel the heat of her body now, feral and eager. This was awkward; he could not afford to alienate her. She could make life at Kilmory very difficult for him.

"I don't want to trespa.s.s," he said.

Alice's gaze widened on him. "You know about me and the duke?" she said. He saw a second's calculation touch her eyes. "I can manage him. He need not hear about us. I'd like someone younger and more energetic."

Looking at Alice now, with the top b.u.t.tons of her practical housekeeper's gown undone and a predatory gleam in her eyes, Lucas wondered what on earth the scholarly Duke of Forres wanted with her. But perhaps the answer to that was all too clear. The duke was a man like any other, and his wife had been dead a very long time. This, then, was the reason why the duke preferred Kilmory to his other estates. Alice was here; it made his philandering easier.

Alice was almost on top of him now. In a moment she would be sitting in his lap.

"I'm sorry," Lucas said. He stood up.

She stopped, her eyes narrowing. "You prefer men?"

"No," Lucas said. He smiled in spite of himself. It was a confident woman who thought that. He liked her for that confidence, even if he did not want to take advantage of it.

She saw the smile and misinterpreted it. Her eyes narrowed still further, then she laughed. "You're playing for higher stakes! I knew it!" A broad, appreciative smile crossed her face. "Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned."

She put her hands on her hips, looking at him thoughtfully. It felt as though, suddenly, her att.i.tude had shifted. They were coconspirators now whether Lucas wanted that or not.

She circled behind him. Her demeanor felt like that of a horse trader approving the stock. Lucas was not sure whether to be amused or disgusted.

"With a face and body like yours," she murmured, "why not aim high?" Her polite vowels had slipped a little with excitement. Perhaps she saw no need to feign gentility with him now. "Do you think you can pull it off?"

"I'm not sure," Lucas said truthfully. He wondered who she imagined his target to be. Allegra? It would be the most obvious choice. Christina? His heart b.u.mped his ribs at the thought. He did not want Alice turning her spite on Christina.

"You're an adventurer, just like me." Alice sat down on the chair beside his, leaning her elbows on the table, watching him as he resumed his seat and reached for the bottle of ale she had brought. "Well, why shouldn't we be? I've worked d.a.m.n hard on my back for any advantage I can get. If I can become d.u.c.h.ess of Forres..." She stopped, gave a short laugh. "Well, I can try."

Lucas raised his brows. She was ambitious indeed. "How is that going?" he asked.

She gave him a dark, disillusioned look. "Badly. The old fool is quite happy to bed me when he can get it up and he flatters me about how much he needs me, about how Kilmory needs me, but marriage-" She gave a derisive snort. "Well, he's a duke. Thinks he's above me. I'm not finished yet, though."

"I'm sure you're not," Lucas said. He wondered what the Marquess and Marchioness of Semple would do if they learned of Alice's ambitions. His lips twitched to think of Gertrude's reaction.

Alice's eyes were sharp as she watched him. "Help me and I'll help you," she said. "It's a pity the riding officer got in before you with Lady Allegra. That little miss was ripe for the plucking. Full of airs and graces, but as hot for s.e.x as any scullery maid. But Lady Christina-" She gave a short laugh. "Well, you might be lucky there. She's gone so long without she's likely desperate. And she's an heiress, of course. But you'll have realized that."

"I have," Lucas said. He felt repulsed at the way Alice spoke so insultingly of Christina. Christina was too warm, kind and generous to be disparaged like that.

He schooled himself not to show his disgust. Even though every instinct prompted him to move away from Alice, he forced himself to sit still and finish the bread and cheese. He even nodded his appreciation.

"Thank you," he said. "That was good."

Alice smiled, putting a hand over his as he repacked the basket. Lucas made a conscious effort not to recoil from her touch. "I'm good for something, then," she said, "even if it is only food rather than s.e.x."

"Do I interrupt?" Christina's voice from the doorway made Lucas jump. He had had no idea anyone was there, least of all that the door was not properly latched. He leaped to his feet and saw Alice Parmenter hide a smile. She thought he was laying the respect on thick because that was what servants did. They hid their contempt and resentment behind a mask of deference.

Christina took a couple of steps into the room. Her gaze, ice-cool as a mountain spring, took in Alice Parmenter and the little sly smile on her face. Lucas cursed under his breath and took several steps away. But it was too late. Christina had definitely seen Alice touching him. Possibly she had even heard some of their conversation. Her expression was cold.

Alice stood, too, resuming her businesslike air. There was a gleam of malice in her eyes, although her tone was respectful. "My lady. Mr. Ross was working so hard on the grotto that he missed supper."

"How thoughtful of you to provide some," Christina said. Her tone was bland. "Thank you, Mrs. Parmenter."

Dismissed, the housekeeper could do nothing other than take the basket, pick up her cloak and slip past Christina through the door and out into the night. In the silence that followed, Lucas waited. Christina did not come any farther into the room and she left the door open.

Her gaze scanned the room, very much as Alice Parmenter's had done before, then came back to his face. "There is nothing of your own here," she said. She sounded puzzled. Her eyes were a wide and candid blue. "Did you not want to make it into a home?"

"No," Lucas said. He felt a pang of some emotion he did not recognize. "I don't have many possessions," he said. "I travel light."

"But there is no warmth," Christina said. She sounded upset now. "There is nothing to make the place comfortable."

"I think it is very comfortable," Lucas said. He gestured to the bright rag rug on the floor. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to furnish it well." He took a guess. "You, I suspect, Lady Christina."

Her eyes met his and she shrugged a little awkwardly.

"It was nothing," she said. "I wanted... I try to ensure that our servants are happy here." After a moment she added, "I have been taking Mr. Hemmings some more medicines. Unfortunately his gout has come back so badly that he has asked to go home to be cared for by his niece. He leaves tomorrow."

Her tone was remote again, mistress to servant, placing him at the appropriate distance. "Mr. Grant will take the role of head gardener for the time being." She looked at him. "I hope you understand."

"Of course," Lucas said. "I have been here barely a month. I would not expect a promotion."

"I realize that we take advantage of you," Christina said. She blushed. "Of your energy and stamina, Mr. Ross..." She blushed harder and Lucas tried not to laugh. "What I am trying to say is that I know Mr. Grant is older and frailer than Mr. Hemmings and so will not be a great deal of practical use, but he would be offended to be overlooked." Her gaze pleaded with him.

"It's all right," Lucas said. "I understand."

He saw the tension leave her. "Thank you," she said simply. "I will arrange for some additional labor from the village, but these men are not gardeners. They do not know a jasmine from a rosebush." She shrugged. "I think we will have to resign ourselves to a level of neglect without Mr. Hemmings's guiding hand. Soon the estate will resemble precisely the sort of Gothic wilderness my father wishes to create. He should be pleased."

Lucas bit back a smile at her wry tone. "I will do my best to keep up to the work," he said. "And I am learning the difference between a rose and a jasmine. In fact, I wondered-" He took a breath. "Might I borrow some books on gardening from the castle library so that I can do some research?"

Christina looked startled. "More books?"

"I quite enjoy reading," Lucas said drily.

She blushed. "Of course. I did not mean to imply-" She stopped. "Of course," she said again. "You already have permission to use the library."

Lucas nodded. "Thank you."

She was ill at ease, fidgeting with the braiding on the sleeve of her coat.

"Was there something else, Lady Christina?" Lucas said.

She met his gaze, hers half apologetic, half defiant.

"It seems I need to warn you that relationships between the staff are not tolerated, Mr. Ross," she said. "It is not appropriate for you to...become involved...with Mrs. Parmenter."

It was not what Lucas was expecting. He felt a pang of shock and right behind it a swift, fierce pang of anger. He fought it down. It was irrational to be angry with her for believing that he was romantically involved with Alice. What she had seen was suggestive. But that made no difference to how he felt.

"You have no need to tell me that," he said tightly.

Christina sighed. "No? You certainly seem to be profligate with your affections, Mr. Ross."

For a moment Lucas had no idea what she was talking about, and then he remembered the previous night at the manse. Christina must have seen the MacPhersons' housemaid ambush him in the courtyard. It would explain her coldness to him later and her predisposition now to think he was the sort of Lothario who habitually made a pa.s.s at any woman who crossed his path. He cursed. The MacPhersons' housemaid was a flirt, and her brazen advances had surprised him but he had disentangled himself quickly enough. He had no interest in her and no time for dalliance.

Something of his feelings must have shown in his face because Christina's expression had changed. She did not look angry; she looked sad. Lucas realized with a shift of the heart that she had read his silence as an admission of guilt and she had not wanted to be proved right.

"I don't know what you saw last night," he said carefully, "but there was nothing in it."

"If you say so." Christina lifted a shoulder in so perfectly executed a gesture of aristocratic disdain that Lucas felt his temper soar still higher. "I am giving you a formal warning, however, that any sort of amorous relationship will not be tolerated whilst you are at Kilmory." She turned away from him. "Good night, Mr. Ross."

Lucas reached past her and pushed the door closed with the flat of his hand. Christina spun around to face him, shock flaring in her eyes.

"Are you jealous?" Lucas said softly.

Color flooded her face. "Of course not!" Her tone was icy. "I have no desire to be another notch on your bedpost, Mr. Ross. Now stand aside!"

Lucas did not move. "How contrary you are," he said, "that you cannot see that the only woman I want is you. I think about you all the time. I dream about you. I have done since that very first night."

Her lips parted on a gasp. The shock in her eyes deepened, shadowed with doubt and a sudden vulnerability. It was so unusual to see her defenses falter. Normally she was so composed, so utterly in control, but now he could see straight through that self-possession to the woman beneath.

In that moment Lucas forgot his reasons for being at Kilmory. He forgot everything in a rush of emotion so fierce he simply reached out and pulled her to him and kissed her. And when she was in his arms it felt as right as it had done the very first night.

CHRISTINA HAD WANTED to kiss Lucas Ross again. She had dreamed of it, longed for it. The reality, so hot, so sweet and so powerful, exceeded both her memories and her dreams. His tongue slid between her lips and his arms went around her to anchor her close. The room spun. She could feel the heat and the hardness of his body, one hand spread in the small of her back, holding her against him. She touched her tongue to his, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity.

Lucas tugged hard on the ribbon of her bonnet and pushed it back with an impatient hand, tangling his fingers in her hair. She heard pins scatter across the floor, landing with a tinkle of metal on stone. The stroke of his tongue was more insistent now, demanding. She was sharply aware of her entire body, dizzy with pleasure. There was urgency in the kiss, but tenderness as well, so delicious and intimate that it stole her breath, stole her very thoughts. She forgot everything except this one man and this one moment.

The ribbon on her cloak was next, unraveling between Lucas's fingers. The heavy material slid from her shoulders like a caress to puddle at her feet. She felt cold without it, but at the same time feverishly hot and shivery. She pressed closer to Lucas, giving him back kiss for kiss, sliding her arms about his neck, shamelessly eager, until suddenly, too soon, it was over.

Lucas let her go and she took a step back, resisting the need to steady herself by grabbing hold of him again. She was shivering, and she wrapped her arms about her for warmth and comfort. All her senses seemed magnified; she could hear the soft hush of the wind in the pines outside the cottage, and beneath that, distantly, the break of the waves on the beach. She could smell the oil from the lamp as the wick burned down. It mingled with the scent of dust and damp.

We should try to improve these cottages if we expect people to live in them, she thought irrelevantly. I will speak to Papa about it. I have done my best to make them comfortable, but they are damp; probably Mr. Ross will get the consumption.

"Are you all right?" Lucas asked gently, and she realized that she had been staring blankly ahead of her as though in a trance.

She looked at Lucas and felt a pang of longing, a skipped beat of the heart. He was looking at her, too, quizzically, with amus.e.m.e.nt. Suddenly she felt unconscionably cross that he could kiss her so thoroughly and then seem so untouched by the experience when she was trembling, her good sense fragmented by his touch.

Had he been lying to her about Alice Parmenter and had kissed her only to distract her? Very probably he had. And yet it had felt real, all too real. She shivered, confused.

"Aren't you going to dismiss me on the spot?" Lucas did not sound particularly bothered. Perhaps he really did go around kissing n.o.ble ladies for sport. She was not sure whether she should believe his denials. She certainly did not believe the a.s.sertion that she was the only one he had an interest in. That could not possibly be true, not her, the plain spinster sister, old, faded, on the shelf, good only to run the house and chaperone the nieces her siblings furnished her with. Lucas could have no real interest in her when he was so handsome and so charming that women were falling over themselves in the rush to warm his bed.

He smiled at her. d.a.m.n him for that, when she felt as though the world was still tilting on its axis, as though the ground she was standing on was as unstable as quicksand. She had no idea how to deal with situations like this because normally she never got herself into them. "It would be unfair to dismiss you," she said, striving to be impartial.

She sensed his surprise, although his face remained as impa.s.sive as ever.

"Would it?" he said. "Why?"

"I did not object to you kissing me." She was not sure why she was being so honest but it felt important. "I did not protest." Her face heated. "I kissed you back."

She had. With interest. And she would do it again in a heartbeat if only she could. She was not even sure if it mattered if he was pretending to like her. Not when he could kiss like that.

"That is very...charitable of you," Lucas said.

She was not sure whether he meant the kissing or the fact that she would not sack him, and she certainly was not going to ask for clarification in case he took it as encouragement. Her lips still tingled from the touch of his. The blood still beat hot through her body.

"Perhaps," Lucas said, "I should do it again if there is no sanction to stop me."

Christina's heart b.u.mped hard against her ribs. She took a step back. "I would certainly dismiss you if you were to kiss me a second time."

"So it is a straight choice between kissing you and my job." Lucas sounded as though he was genuinely considering whether it was worth it. "Hmm. In that case, there is no real contest." He reached out a negligent hand and pulled her close to him. Gentle fingers grazed her cheek, tilting up her chin. "I enjoy my work," he said, his lips brushing hers, "but I adore kissing you."

And after that they did not speak for a very long time.

"I WAS NOT SURE," Christina said later, "whether the feeling was entirely on my side. I felt sure it must be."

He could ask her anything now and she could not lie. She was undone by the pleasure of his kisses, lost in bliss, heated and adrift with feelings she barely knew.

Lucas was sitting on one of the upright wooden chairs and she was sitting on his lap, cradled in his arms, a position that was not ideal for kissing, although they seemed to have managed well enough.

I must make sure that these cottages are furnished with more comfortable seating, Christina thought vaguely, her palm spread against Lucas's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. These chairs are far too hard and quite unsuitable for lovemaking.

"And now you know that it was not just you," Lucas said. "Far from it." He was toying with her hair, his fingers gentle amongst her curls, touching her as though she was infinitely precious. It felt delicious and it made her heart turn over with longing. "From the very start I found you shockingly attractive," he said. "I did not even need to see you to want you."

Christina gave a little giggle. "I could have been anyone."

"I'm not sure that would have made a difference."

"But then you did see me-"

"And wanted to kiss you even more."

Lucas cupped her face and kissed her again, long and slow and languorous this time, and the tight spiral of l.u.s.t in her belly tightened still further.

It seemed impossible that he shared her feelings, dangerous feelings, feelings of desire and l.u.s.t and need. His lips were tracing a tender path down the line of her throat now, and her skin rose to the touch, wanting more. Her bodice felt too tight. She was nearly panting. There was a constant, deep, disturbing ache low in her stomach, and her clothes frustrated her, layers of material that were superfluous. She knew a sudden shameless urge to rip them all away so that she could feel his mouth against her skin, and moaned when he slid his hand down over one breast, and her nipple hardened into a tight peak against his palm.

His mouth returned to hers and she heard him groan against her lips, a rough sound of desire that echoed hers. The kiss slid deeper into heat and fiery need. Everything was happening so quickly, but Christina did not want to stop. She did not want to think. There was no reality but this man, his kiss, his hands on her. She had fought these feelings for what seemed such a long time. Now all she wanted was to stop fighting.