To never have had a single hug or tender touch, even from his mother.

It was nothing to Vincent now because he wouldn't let it be. He had made of his heart a rock void of emotion-in self-defense. But that Larissa would cry for him, Vvrhen she had so many bitter feelings against him that should take precedent, still amazed him.

He had done his best to ignore those tears, because he didn't want her getting defensive about it. which would have ruined the effect it had had on her. But he did mean to take advantage before she had time to remember why she should spare him no sympathy at all.

So he became annoyed that she wasn't available that morning. Yet when several hours pa.s.sed and she hadn't returned, he began to worry.

It could not have been a simple walk she was doing. That wouldn't have taken this long. She must have some purpose. Yet she had gone out alone, without escort. London was no place for a young woman, and especially one as beautiful as she was, to walk about alone.

He finally sent people out to look for her. When that produced no results, he went out himself to try to find her. He questioned the neighbors at her old address. He went to the docks to her father's company office, which was nearly deserted now, with only a single clerk remaining. He even went by the warehouse where he had stored her possessions, even though he knew that was pointless, since he hadn't given her the address of it yet, but he'd run out of options.

By the time he returned home, only to be informed she still hadn't shown up yet, he acknowledged that his worry was getting out of hand. He went straightaway to her brother's room, which he should have done sooner. If anyone would know where she had gone or why, the boy would.

He found the child abed, propped up with pillows and reading a hefty volume of Greek mythology, of all things, surely not by choice, though no one was with him at the moment to insist. Took his studies seriously, did he? Or perhaps he was simply so intelligent that he craved knowiedge constantly of any sort.

These were vague thoughts that didn't last more than a second due to Vincent's own craving for knowledge-about Larissa. "Where is your sister?"

He should have at least introduced himself first, realized that with the blank stare he was getting and started to correct the oversight. "I'm-"

"I'm sure I know who you would be, Lord Everett," Thomas interrupted without the least change of expression. "My question is what is it that you require of my sister that has you so impatient to see her?"

"I am not the least bit impatient."

The book was set aside. The boy even crossed his arms in a manner that indicated he would wait until he heard the correct answer. And his direct gaze was actually disconcerting. For a moment Vincent felt as if he were in the presence of the girl's grandfather, rather than her ten-year-old brother. A brief moment.

In a tone gone stiff, Vincent explained, "While you both reside in my house, you are afforded my protection, which makes you more or less my responsibility for the time being. Yet I can't a.s.sure her safety if she intends to traipse about London by herself."

"Does she know you are accepting responsibility for her?" Thomas asked.

"I a.s.sume-"

The boy interrupted again with the offering, "You can't a.s.sume where Rissa is concerned."

"Regardless, she has been missing since early this morning. Is that a normal habit of hers, to go about town without an escort?"

"No indeed, she rarely goes about town at all. She's been quite the recluse, my sister, since we moved to London. Wasn't always the case, least not in Portsmouth. Think this city intimidates her."

"Then why the devil would she go out in it alone?" That question merely gained a shrug from the boy, prompting Vincent to clarify, "You have no idea, then, where she might have gone today?"

"Possibly to collect our Christmas decorations? I'm afraid I have been nagging her-"

Vincent interrupted impatiently this time. "No, I told her I would have them fetched."

"Then to my father's office?"

"No, the clerk there said she hadn't been by," Vincent replied.

"You've already been searching for her?"

This was asked with a raised brow that looked quite odd on a ten-year-old face. Yet the implication was still there that the boy had just drawn conclusions from that information that were no doubt wrong, yet drawn nonetheless.

"Did I mention responsibility?" Vincent almost growled. "I thought so. Of course I would find it necessary to look for her, when she's b.l.o.o.d.y well been gone for half the day."

"Do you realize how upset you sound, Lord Everett? Do you take all of your responsibilities this seriously? Or just my sister"

Vincent sighed and got out of there. He wasn't used to dealing with children, and he certainly wasn't used to dealing with little adults in child form. Silly boy, to try and credit Vincent with emotions, of any sort.

CHAPTER 12.

Larissa was walking in the house just as Vincent came downstairs again. She looked cold. She looked tired. She was windblown and damp from snow drizzles that she'd probably been caught in more than once. She was infinitely beautiful even with wind-chapped cheeks.

The anger came immediately to replace the worry he'd undergone, now that he could see she was unharmed, and he blasted her with it the second he reached her. "Don't ever leave this house again without taking one of the footmen with you! Do you have no sense at all, to not realize what could happen to you out on those b.l.o.o.d.y streets?"

She stared at him, and stared. She was probably too tired to muster any expression. Finally she said simply, "They aren't my footmen to command."

"Then consider them henceforth at your beck and call-" he growled, only to be cut off.

"Nor did I have a choice in the matter. I had to go out ... so I went."

He gritted his teeth. "There is no 'had to' involved. The only rational choice would have been to stay indoors on a day like this."

"That wouldn't have found me a jeweler willing to pay a fair price for my pearls, nor an auction house interested in the paintings and other objects of art I mean to dispose of," she told him.

Vincent almost panicked. He'd already a.s.sured her that she didn't need to sell anything. There had to be a reason that she'd subjected herself to horrid weather and risked her own personal safety. He was either frightening her away, or she was running from things she didn't understand.

She was an innocent. She might not realize yet that the strong feelings she had been experiencing were s.e.xual in nature and perfectly normal. Yet he couldn't explain-and end up frightening her even more.

There was no need to panic, though, since he'd already planned to let her think that her valuables had been stolen or were otherwise unavailable to barter for currency. He would have preferred not to have to lie to her about them, but wouldn't feel too much remorse in doing so. Any means to keep her under his roof was permissible, as far as he was concerned, short of locking her in.

"I thought I a.s.sured you that you are most welcome to stay here until your father returns."

"And if he doesn't return?" she asked in a quavering voice. "No, Lord Everett, we can't continue to accept your charity, which is what it is. You required an address of us. That is why we are here. But I a.s.sure you I will have an address for you before we leave-I just need to go out and find one, which I intend to do."

"Nonsense," he countered. "You can at least wait until the beginning of the New Year. Surely you can give your father a few more weeks to make an appearance. Or do you mean to disrupt your brother's Christmas as well as his recovery, when you don't have to? And after we just agreed that you shall have your Christmas tree?"

She worried at her lower lip in indecision, seriously chewed on it. He wished she hadn't, because he now had an overwhelming urge to help her chew on it. Such lovely lips she had. Did she realize what her simple action was doing to him?

"I suppose a few weeks more-"

Vincent gave in to the urge. He had meant to further his seduction today, to draw it closer to the inevitable conclusion. And he could see no reason, really, to wait any longer for that conclusion. Once she shared his bed, there would be no more talk of leaving, which was the deciding factor for him. And the sooner she did, the longer he would have to enjoy her, before her father arrived to take her away.

He didn't expect to lose himself so deeply in the magic of his own creation, but he did. He wouldn't have carried her straight upstairs either, where any number of pa.s.sing servants would notice, it being only late afternoon, but he did that, too. He had planned to ask her to leave her door open for him tonight, so it would be entirely her decision. He had simply meant to so heat her with desire today that there would be no other decision for her to make. And he certainly hadn't expected to so dazzle her with one kiss that she was completely his in that moment, to do with as he would.

It was too stirring a kiss, too craved to not be. They were both ignited by it instantly, bodies crushed together, taste and senses exploding in sensual delight. It was her dazed look when he finally let her go that had him picking her up and carrying her upstairs. She had no time to come to her senses. She was still clinging to him when he got her inside her room. Unfortunately, he'd had a little time himself, and a scowling stare from his housekeeper on the way, to jolt him out of his own rashness.

This wasn't how he meant to have her. It wasn't going to salvage his conscience later, that he had given her no opportunity to think, let alone decide to embrace ruination for a few moments of immense pleasure.

He forced himself to set her down in the middle of her room. He kissed her again, gently now. He waited for her eyes to become focused.

Then cupping her face in his hands, he told her, "You've exhausted yourself today. Take a nap be- fore dinner. I may not join you. I doubt I'd be able to keep my hands off of you long enough to eat. I will join you later, though, if you will leave your door unlocked for me tonight. Follow your heart, Larissa. I promise you pleasure unimagined."

Incredible, to have left her there. If he didn't think himself an utter fool for doing so, he might have been proud of himself. . .

And he made sure that his housekeeper saw him returning downstairs.

CHAPTER 13.

Larissa did indeed take a nap that afternoon. It refreshed her, though it didn't help to clear her confusion over her latest encounter with the baron. She wasn't sure exactly what had happened between them, or what he had implied would happen. He had sounded like a parent-or a husband-when she had entered the house and he had railed at her for what he considered reckless behavior. And since he had never been either, what was she to think? He cared. It was patently obvious. In the brief time she had known him, he had come to care about her.

And that incredible kiss. She had still been cold, standing there in the entryway. He had warmed her completely. She had still been slightly trembling from it. She had trembled even more from his kiss.

She had never experienced anything even remotely like it. She had left Portsmouth without ever having had any real interest in any young man; thus she'd never let one kiss her. And she had spent her first year in London pouting, which didn't include any socializing, nor was much done in the last two years, other than with her father's business a.s.sociates.

She had never realized how lacking she was in social congress with young men she might like, let alone be seriously attracted to, as she was to the baron. She had been promised a Season that would most likely find her a husband, and had been perfectly content to wait for it.

She was in no hurry, after all, to leave her family, who were still in need of her. But her father had expected her to marry soon, now that she was of age to do so. Her brother did, too. She had been resigned to it herself, even slightly looking forward to it finally, when the trouble started with her father's business. And now-she was resigned to not having a Season after all.

He cared about her.

She was still having trouble grasping the implications of that, other than that the thought thrilled her. She wasn't quite naive, though, about what he'd meant by not being able to keep his hands off of her, nor about what would likely happen if she did unlock her door tonight.

Her father had found her alone with a young man the year before they'd moved to London. It wasn't what he'd imagined; the fellow was the brother of one of her good friends, and she'd been talking to him about his current romantic interest, who happened to be another of her friends.

But her father had felt compelled to explain to her about men's unruly desires, a most embarra.s.sing conversation for them both, but most enlightening, too, about things she could only have guessed at before.

The baron cared about her and he desired her His remarks had cleared that up for her, where before she never would have believed cither of him-which was one reason for her prior confusion. She simply hadn't believed he was interested in her that way-nothing he had said supported it-so the heat she'd seen in his eyes couldn't have been from pa.s.sion. But it was. She didn't doubt it now. And it had been there almost from the beginning.

Could she marry him, though, after what he had done to her family? He was directly responsible for their losing their home. But it hadn't been personal, had been just another business transaction for him, and of course, he was in a position to make complete amends for it, had already made some by bringing them into his own house.

She could marry him; indeed, that thought thrilled her, too. And it was what he must have in mind. She was of good family, after all. He wouldn't consider making love to her without offering marriage. He had probably just been too overcome with impatience to mention it yet.

She could understand that. She was skirting around his "pleasure unimagined" remark, didn't dare think of that, or she would have been overcome with impatience herself, nearly was already. She was even counting the minutes until she would retire tonight.

She almost didn't go down to dinner. Vincent had said he wouldn't be there, but if he was, she didn't think she'd get much eating done. But she went, and it was a solitary meal, or at least it was until an unknown gentleman walked in, clearly expecting to find the baron at his meal. His surprise was evident, to find her there in the dining room instead.

"Oh ho, are you for me?" was the first thing he said to her.

He seemed absolutely delighted by that prospect, whatever he meant by it. She wasn't quite sure.

"Excuse me?"

"A sop to keep me happy until Vincent finds what I commissioned him to?"

That didn't clear up the confusion. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

He blushed now, apparently realizing he'd made a mistake. "Beg pardon, miss, truly. Lord Hale here. 'Fraid I wasn't expecting to find a lady in this bachelor residence, and one alone-or are you not alone? Here with your father? Never say with a husband?"

She was on firmer ground now. "I'm awaiting my father here."

"Is Vincent a business a.s.sociate of your father's, then?" he asked.

"No, he recently became our landlord-and evicted us from our house."

She shouldn't have added that. It was certainly none of his business why she was there or how she'd got there, and now she was the one blushing for letting her bitterness over that show.

It also surprised him enough to say, "The devil he did. Kicked you out? So you'd end up here?"

"Well, no, that had nothing to do with it. He's offered us temporary lodging so that he can be a.s.sured of speaking with our father when he returns. Some misunderstanding that needs to be straightened out."

"Then your father isn't actually-here? You're here alone?"

"No, my brother is with me, and several of our servants," she replied.

He seemed disappointed by that. "Ah, everything on the up and up, then. Oh well, I'll get over it, I'm sure."

He wasn't making much sense again, but no matter, he seemed harmless enough. He was about the baron's age, not nearly as tall and rather chunky of build, with light blue eyes and a rag-mop of unruly black curls that seemed designed to look so unkempt. He would even be considered handsome if one didn't compare him to the baron, who was too handsome.

Since he didn't seem inclined to leave, simply stood there in the doorway sighing as he gazed at her, she thought to ask, "Did you have an appointment with the baron?"

"Not really, just my weekly check on his progress, though he was probably expecting me, since I show up about this time each week. I'm a bit impatient to receive what he's finding for me."

"Which is?" she asked rather stiffly, thinking he might be the gentleman who had wanted their house so badly that Vincent had bought it out from under them. But then she blushed. "I'm sorry, that was presumptuous ol me."

"Not a'tall. It's a painting. A special painting that I simply must own for myself! Price is no object. I know, I know, silly of me to put so much stock in possessing something, but there you have it. I'm the first to admit I'm eccentric. And I've run out of things to spend my money on. A deplorable state of affairs. Rather boring, too."

She smiled. She couldn't imagine anyone so rich that it became boring. And as long as he wasn't the fellow who had coveted her home, she had nothing against him, was even grateful to him for taking her mind off of what she expected to happen later tonight.

"I'm sure you'd be welcome to stay for dinner/' she offered. "I don't think the baron will be joining us, though. I'm not even sure he's at home just now."

"Oh, he is. The butler wouldn't have let me in the door otherwise. I suppose I should seek him out." Another sigh. "But I'll see you again soon. Depend upon it. Think I might be stopping by daily now for reports. Yes, I just might."

CHAPTER 14.