A dangerous half-smile curled his lips. He faced her, his booted feet braced wide apart, his thumbs hooked into his breechess, revealing his jade embroidered waistcoat; his posture was one of unswerving masculinity despite his handsome elegance.

"I think not, madam," was all he said. But deep inside he was bitterly stung that she compared him to his father -- his father! And he dared not give in to the rage that simmered just beneath the surface.

Slowly his gaze raked over her, trespassing at will. The candle behind her caught her in its glow-and rendered the frail covering of lawn she wore useless. The shape of her body was clearly discernible. Her breasts were soft and full, her nipples dark, pink enticements, the down fuzz of her womanhood a deeper shadow.

And now a fire of a different sort had kindled.

Cassie realized too late the vulnerability rendered by her state of undress. She recognized the glitter m his eyes only too well. Her fingers curled more tightly around the doorknob as he began to close the distance between them. Though she clung to it with all her strength, the knob was wrenched from her grasp as he thrust the door shut with the heel of his hand.

Sparks of rebellion burst inside her. "Damn you!" she swore. "You will not lay a hand on me!"

There was the sound of husky, masculine laughter. "Oh, but I will, sweet. I daresay you will know much more than just the touch of my hand tonight."

She drew herself up proudly, for now he blocked her way. "I will not!" she cried. "You cannot keep me at arm's length and expect submission whenever the whim strikes you."

He took a step forward. Cassie paled, retreating in tandem as he advanced. But soon he had her backed against the door.

His forearms came up on either side of her body, effectively pinning her in place. Panic engulfed her. He was so close her breasts brushed his shirt with every breath.

His fury was ill-disguised; it glimmered in his like quicksilver. "You are wrong, Yank, for there is a very great difference between my father and I indeed. I used to marvel that I was ever born, for he felt nothing for my mother, not even a man's passion for a woman. And I must confess, sweet, you have only to come near and my body reminds me quite insistently of my desire for you."

"Desire?" Inwardly she trembled; outwardly she scoffed. "I know what drives you. You've been stuck here in the country with me --and without your mistress. So go back to London --back to the welcoming arms of your mistress!"

"My mistress!"

"Yes! Lady Sarah, I believe."

"I've not seen her in weeks, Yank. Nor did I wish to. Besides, what need have I of her when I find such welcome in your arms?"

"You'l find no such welcome again!" She shoved at his chest. He merely leaned closer, barring any further movement on her part with the pressure of his body.

"It is pointless to resist me, Yank. We both know that."

"Oh!" she cried. "So now you tout your charms? Do you think I am a fool that I find you so irresistible? If that's what you think, perhaps it's you who are the fool!"

"Perhaps I am; " he said, his voice low and intense. "And I do not 'tout my charms,' as you choose to put it. Indeed, Yank, it's you who charm me, you who bewitched me the moment I set eyes on you, you who are irresistible. You stir me past bearing. Beyond all reason ... beyond endurance."

He bent his head and pressed his lips to the place where her neck sloped into her shoulder. The touch of his lips went through her like a bolt of lightning. "And it's not submission I want. I want you naked and twisting and eager in my arms as you were last night."

Oh, but he was a wretch to remind her! His words shattered her composure like broken crystal. All at once she was quivering. No, not with fear, or even anger, but with the intoxicating effect of his nearness.

But when she would have argued, his mouth, demanding and devouring, captured hers. Her gown was swept from her shoulders. His hands came out to play with the tips of her breasts. A shock of sensation curled deep in her belly.

Caught in a maze of conflicting emotions, her hands clenched and unclenched against his chest. Her fingertips were achingly sensitized; she could feel the raspiness of his body hair beneath the fabric of his shirt. A wave of longing swept her in its tide. She yearned to tug aside the barrier of his shirt, to feel the intimate slide of skin against skin. And when he did exactly that, tearing off his jacket, ripping his shirt over his head and burying her nipples in the furred darkness on his chest, she thought she would die of sheer bliss. She had to fight from wrapping her arms around his neck in reckless surrender.

Only the tangle of heart and mind and body stopped her. She wanted him desperately, yet knowing he thought so little of her hurt unbearably!

Somehow she managed to tear her mouth free. "Gabriel, please." Her plea was a ragged cry. "You do this only because I dared to defy you."

He raised his head. His eyes rained silver fire upon her upturned face. "No," he said fiercely. "I told you last night that door would not be closed against me and I meant it. And I do this because it's what we both want."

With that he bore her to the bed and stripped off his boots and breeches. When he was as naked as she, he stretched out beside her.

God help her, he was right. She did want him. Heat and dampness gathered there between her thighs, just thinking what he would do to her -- what she wanted him to do.

His tongue entwined with hers, a purely erotic mating that primed them both for the one soon to follow. His fingers toyed with her nipples until they stood taut and tingling, aching for the hot brand of his mouth, the lashing glide of his tongue. And then his chest slid slowly down her breasts, the tormenting friction making her gasp for air. Once again he gauged her every desire better than she herself.

But there was still much she did not know ... much she had yet to learn ...

He was about to teach her.

For Gabriel there was no conscious thought. There was only the pounding need to pleasure her. To possess her. To please her, for he wanted her as he had never wanted another woman ... all of her, in the age-old way, in every way ...

In this way.

He slid down her body, his tongue blazing a swirling path across the satin plane of her belly. "Gabriel," she gasped. "Dear God ... what . . ."

He pressed with the breadth of his shoulders until he felt her thighs give way. Her hands fluttered helplessly against the corded tightness of arms. But he was persistent. Determined.

He tasted her, his breath a heated rush, a scorching lick of wildly erotic fire against flesh that was already damp and dewy. He groaned. She was hot and tangy-sweet.

Her head jerked up off the pillows. Again and again he teased sleek, wet recesses, elusive and circling, tormenting and exploring. Her fingers knotted in his hair. Soft, breathless panting filled the air, driving him to a frenzy. She whimpered, her hips unconsciously seeking. His blood pounding with a primitive heat, he gave her what she so artlessly sought.

He touched her then, her swollen core, the press of his tongue laid high and full and tight against the very pearl of sensation. A convulsive shudder wracked her. Feeling his manhood near to bursting, he levered himself over her.

Her eyes opened, smoky and dazed. Lean fingers separated soft, springy fleece, then pink, dewy folds. With a groan he plunged deep, embedded tight within her heat. He pulled himself out, all hard and glistening and glorious. Neither could look away as he came inside her, driving and powerful, again and again, with mounting frenzy.

His seed was rising, burning him from the inside out. He was only a heartbeat away from spilling himself. But he ached for her to know the full measure of her pleasure and so he held back. Her nails sank into his shoulder. "Gabriel." She gasped out his name. "Oh, please. . ."

Her cry echoed in his throat. He claimed her mouth in a kiss that was raw and hungry and unbridled. He thrust harder, deeper, faster and faster in answer to her plea. Did he possess her? ... Or did she possess him? He no longer knew. He no longer cared, for then he felt it -- the pulsing spasms of her tight, clinging sheath around his throbbing member. With a muffled cry he reaped his joy from hers, exploding inside her again and again, his own release no less scalding -- no less splendid -- than hers.

Chapter 1 9.

Autumn came full upon the land. The country-side brightened to vivid shades of russet and gold. The days grew short, the nights brisk and cool. But with the chill upon the land came a chill upon her heart.

She was distinctly unsettled over the next few weeks. She simply could not help it, for the seed of doubt had been planted and sown. What if Gabriel was right? What if someone were after her? She hated herself for the thought which always sprang to mind. Edmund hated Americans with a passion. What if he had decided to try to be rid of her -- permanently?

He had yet to return from Bath, and for that Cassie was thankful. A part of her scoffed at the possibility Edmund might be responsible for the "accidents" which had befallen her. Gabriel seemed convinced his father would do her no harm, yet Cassie could think of no one who could possibly want to hurt her.

Nor was that the only matter which preyed on her mind.

No longer did she and Gabriel deny themselves the sensual pleasures to be found in one another.

When he made love to her, he demanded all she would give -- and more. At first the stormy passion he aroused in her was frightening. It frightened her even more that Gabriel commanded such surrender with only a kiss -- the merest caress! Yet she could withhold nothing, and soon did not want to. His lovemaking was sometimes fierce and possessive, sometimes tender and protective and achingly sweet. But while her nights were spent discovering the enchantment of the flesh, lying snug in Gabriel's arms, her days were filled with anguish and confusion.

Oh, he gave his body wholly to her. Only last night, in stark, wanton whispers, he told her over and over how she pleased him, how he delighted in her shy exploration of his hard nakedness. But when morning came, his warmth was gone, his passion checked.

In truth, she was secretly shattered, for he kept his emotions shielded from her, ever distant, as though he wore a cloak of iron. He would not let her close ... and that was where she longed to be.

She yearned for all she had disdained -- for all she had never dreamed she might want from him.

It had never been wealth or possessions that s coveted, though she thought bitterly Gabriel might well dispute that fact. In truth, she had thought to be satisfied with a home, a safe and secure future, free from a life of poverty and struggle. But Cassie could not lie to herself any longer. Hidden deep in the furthest reaches of her heart, she longed for a true and happy marriage, a husband who cherished her with all his soul, and children who would never doubt they were loved and wanted by both parents.

Heavy was the burden carried by her treacherous heart. She prayed nightly that Gabriel might someday come to love her, but she was afraid that was the one thing that would forever elude her. Yet even as that hope grew ever more dim, another certainty loomed stronger with each passing day.

She was to bear his child.

And she knew not how to tell him.

Little did she realize the matter was already out of her hands.

Gabriel was working in the study one drizzly afternoon in late November. A timid rap echoed on the door. He paused, his quill still in hand. "Enter," he called.

A frown creased his brow when Gloria slipped inside. She stood for a moment on the threshold, her demeanor mousy and tentative.

"Could I have a word with you, sir?" She posed the question timidly.

"By all means, Gloria." He gestured her forward, but he was faintly puzzled. He could think of no reason why Gloria would approach him rather than Cassie.

Gloria wrung her hands nervously and decided that, having come this far, she might as well simply come out with it. "I know it's not my place to say so," she blurted, 'but I'm fair worried about my lady."

Gabriel tapped the quill against the ledger he'd been writing in. "Indeed," he said slowly. 'Tell me why Gloria, and please be frank."

"Well, milord, to my mind, she's been feeling poorly this last month. Oh, 1 know she tries to let on that nothing is amiss, but more than once these past weeks she's gone pale as snow -- why, I had to help her to a chair. Indeed, I feared she would faint dead away!"

Gabriel frowned. Cassie was no willy-nilly young miss to suffer an attack of the vapors at every silly little thing. She had no shortage of either pluck or pride.

"So you believe she is ill?"

"That's the funny thing, milord. Some days she's right as rain. Others she's so fagged out I can see it's all she can do to drag herself from bed." Gloria warmed to the matter. "Forgive me for being so bold, sir.

I've tried to get milady to see a physician, but she insists it's nothing and will pass.

Gabriel rose. "I appreciate your concern, Gloria -- and you were right to bring this to my attention. Rest assured, I shall see that your mistress neglects her health no longer."

Gloria bobbed a curtsy and left, vastly relieved yet feeling a trifle guilty. Though she had a very good idea what ailed her mistress, Gloria was worried about her and was convinced the lady should be examined by a physician. But had she managed to convince the earl of that? Unfortunately, not a single one of the servants could ever predict where lord and lady stood with the other. Of course, they all had their hopes-and doubts as well. But Gloria smiled happily when she peered around the corner scant seconds later. The earl was striding up the staircase two at a time.

Upstairs in her bedchamber, Cassie sat in a wing chair near the window, her embroidery in her lap. Though her fingers lay idle, her thoughts were far busier... She glanced up at Gabriel's entrance. His face was bronzed against the whiteness of his cravat, so very handsome he took her breath away. The makings of a smile creased her lips.

He folded his arms across his chest and glared. "Gloria tells me you've been ill," he stated without preamble.

Cassie blinked. She did not know what it was she'd expected him to say, but this was not it. With a shake of her head, she laid her embroidery on the table.

"Gloria," she said lightly, "worries far more than need be."

An arrogant brow climbed high. "She tells me she was certain several times you were about to faint dead away."

"Ah, but I did not. So you see, there is no need for either of you to concern yourself -"

"I do not agree, Yank. Nor do I believe you should miss these episodes as if they were nothing. Furthermore, I do not understand why you chose not to inform me."

Cassie's smile wavered. She could not help the faint bitterness that seeped through her. What would his reaction be were she to tell him she chose to say nothing because there was simply no point --she was well aware he cared nothing for her.

But already her heart had begun to pound hard fast. What would Gabriel say if he knew the truth? She dreaded what his reaction might be ... she feared what it would not be ...

That alone was reason enough to hold her silence for as long as she deemed possible. God knew it would not be long before she could hide her condition no longer.

"I have had a few dizzy spells;" she murmured cautiously. "I said nothing because they were over as quickly as they came."

"Nonetheless, you should have told me, for it seems this ailment persists and should not be discounted so easily. Therefore, I shall summon a physician. No doubt he can prescribe some cure."

Panic rose, swift and sure. Cassie was on her feet in an instant. "No!" she cried. "I don't need a physician, I'm certain of it! These spells will pass, I swear -- this illness will pass, I assure you!"

"You cannot know that, Yank -"

"Oh, but I do. I swear, I do! I am fine, truly I am!"

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "By your own admission you have not been feeling well. If you wish to explain yourself, please do. But do so now, for your stubbornness tries my patience."

Cassie stared down at the toes of her slippers. Oh, but she had been backed into a corner and there was no way out of it!

Slowly she raised her head. "I am not ill;' she said again. She swallowed bravely, but her mouth was bone dry. " I am ... with child."

Shock and disbelief flitted across his features, swiftly replaced by unshuttered anger. His gaze scraped over her, as if to prove her words a lie. He spoke through lips that barely moved. "You are certain?"

She nodded miserably.

"How far along?"

She hesitated. When at last she spoke, her voice was no more than a breath of air. "I'm not certain. Nearly four months, I think."

Gabriel said nothing. His very silence was condemning. Tears glistened in her eyes. It demanded every bit of courage she possessed to whisper, "You are not pleased, are you?"

In two strides he was before her. "What! Did you think I would be?" He wrenched her chin up to the light and stared at the tears which even now began to overflow. 'Tour tears tell the tale only too well, Yank. You are no more pleased about it than I!"

The ache in Cassie's breast was nearly unbearable. Oh, he thought he knew her so well. But he knew her not at all!

Tears scalded the back of her throat. She stretched out an imploring hand. "Please, Gabriel." Her voice was thick with the effort it took not to burst into tears. "Please do not be angry."

"Do not be angry, she says!" His fists clenched and unclenched. To Cassie it was as if the very fires of hell leaped in his eyes. "Have you any idea what this means? I've fallen right into my father's hands -and you may be certain that he will be pleased! Now he will have the grandchild he was so determined I give him!"

He spun around and stalked into his bedchamber. Cassie trailed behind him, standing on the threshold between their rooms as he threw a portmanteau onto his bed and began throwing clothing into it.