"Let's read then," Bridget said, and I nodded. We were cohorts in this naughty venture I'm sure neither of us would have been brave enough to do alone. And part of my wanting to read tonight was to delay learning what Sean had written to me. I doubt he'd issue any more safe passages. That meant I had to decide if I was willing to go without one.

"We have to stop seeing each other. You have to stop coming to me. This week has been more than I can bear. The loneliness will be harder now. But I'll never forget the pleasure you've given me."

"Wait," Bridget said. "Did we miss a page? What pleasure? Are they not going to tell us about the week the queen spent with Draco?"

I turned the page back. "I guess not."

"But they can't do that," Bridget said.

"They did. Do you want to skip this story and go to another one?"

"No. I want that the author should have written this one right."

"What would you have had them write?"

"All of the things that people do when they fall in love. All of the things that girls like me never know. Dinner and dances and operas and balls."

I shut the book. "Do you want to write our own story then?"

"What?" Her eyes boggled.

"Write things the way we want them to be. We can tell it anyway we want to."

"Blimey. I never thought about it like that before. Maybe. But not tonight. I want to know about the queen they way the story is now."

"All right." I opened the book.

The young queen turned, wrenching painfully away from Draco, the man who would take her from her burdened, virgin life and give her immortality and the only love she would ever be sure was true.

All others would want her for another reason, for power, for wealth, or to be king of a nation. Only he could love her for herself.

"Go, please. There can never be happiness between us. I am bound to this life and you to another."

"Seven nights, my virgin queen. One more week to convince you that my love is worth all that you would leave behind." Draco smiled sadly, unable to walk away.

"The fruit you offer is one that I would give my soul to know, but it is forbidden, for I cannot sacrifice my nation. I would cease to be queen then, and that is all I am."

Draco crossed the room and caught the queen in his arms. "Don't say that. It isn't true. You're a woman, a beautiful woman. My woman."

Tears flowing, she pressed her fingers to his lips and he gently nipped her fingertip with his fang, careful not to break her skin and draw the blood he so desperately wanted to join with his. He could force her to be his, press his thirsty lips to her throat and make her his. But to do so would destroy the very part of him that enabled him to love.

She buried herself against his chest. "Were I any other woman in the world, in any other nation in the world that would be true. But it is not. I'll reign and I'll die, and if there is mercy in this world, then one day we will share the love burning so deeply within us."

Wrapping his arms around her, he blinked back his own tears. "Seven more nights?" he whispered.

"Yes." Her cry muffled with a sob.

"Blimey." Bridge pulled the book from my hands and tossed it onto the bed before dashing at the tears in her eyes. "I can't read any more of it tonight."

Neither could I, but I didn't say so. I didn't want to think about wrenching sadness when my feelings for Sean were such a bubbling caldron of doubt. I could foresee no ending different than that of the virgin queen and her secret, dark lover.

"It is a sad story." The note in my pocket pulled upon my heart as deeply as the queen's denial. If he'd asked for me to come, how could I not go? But how could I go and forsake all that I knew was proper?

"Why doesn't she just love him?" Bridget demanded.

Tears stung my eyes. "She does."

"But she won't be with him, and he loves her. Her fear of losing him is too great to let herself love while she can." Bridget shoved the book aside and plopped onto her bed. "It's just a story," she said. "It has nothing whatsoever to do with me and Stuart."

I blinked. Stuart? I'd thought only of Sean. "You're absolutely right." I marched to my cot and slipped off my boots. The story had nothing to do with either of us.

"I'm right?" Bridget frowned as if she expected that I would argue with her.

"Yes. You are." I snuffed out the candle. "I suggest we get some sleep."

Had I honestly believed that, I might have been able to shut my eyes and drift off rather than to feign sleep for an eternity as Bridget tossed and turned. I thought I would scream with impatience before she started to snore. I waited a few more agonizing moments to make sure she wasn't going to awaken, then I lit a candle stub and ripped open the envelope. Two cards fell out. Written in his bold script were two short notes.

I hope these blooms bring you as much pleasure as your soft, fragrant skin brings me.

This ticket entitles the bearer to a trip to the stars and beyond.

There was no mention of a safe passage.

I also knew that I would go.

When I opened the dragon-handled doors, I found him standing there, waiting. He seemed unsettled, his hair askew, his expression worried. I suddenly wondered if he'd been in pain.

But that wasn't what brought me to a standstill. It was his attire, or lack of it. Gone were the traditional accoutrements of pants and shirt. In their stead he wore an open, black-silk robe embroidered with a silver dragon breathing fire over his left breast. The open neck of the robe exposed an indecent amount of his fascinating chest.

He had on pants, but they weren't normal restrictive pants. They were silky and moved fluidly with the muscles beneath. My heart felt as if it reached him before he reached me.

"I'm glad you came." He slid the door from my grasp and urged me into the corridor enough to close the door behind me.

Mindful of the thorns, I clutched a pink rose I'd taken from the bouquet before leaving my room.

He smiled, setting his cane aside. "They are beautiful, are they not?" He took the rose from me and trailed the bloom along my cheek.

"Most beautiful," I whispered, taking a step back as I tried to absorb the intensity of his gaze and the power of his presence. He made every part of me tingle with awareness.

"As are you." He stepped closer, letting the rose slide down my neck and across the exposed skin of my chest. Then, setting his palms on the door behind me, he brushed a kiss to my lips. "Will it be the stars again tonight? Or shall I take you beyond?"

"The stars," I said, desperately hoping that I could keep control of the overwhelming temptation to be with him. I forced my hands to my sides to keep from touching him. He was so close, and I knew if I even brushed my hand against the silk of his robe, I would be lost.

He dropped his forehead to mine. "God help me, Cassie. I don't know how strong I can be."

"First," I whispered, not sure how the word escaped my lips, but everything within me cried to be with him. He snapped his gaze to mine, intensely searching. I dampened my lips, "Stars first...then..."

"Last," he groaned as if in pain. "Stars last." He kissed me then, hard and deep, pressing me up against the door, molding his body to mine. The fire of his touch only made me thirst for more.

"Last," I whispered in defeat, wanting him so much that I could no longer stand on the propriety upon which I had built my life. Tears stung my eyes. He stopped trailing kisses across my jaw and gazed into my eyes, then drew a deep breath and stepped back.

"I'm rushing you. I'm sorry. Come with me." He held out his hand and I put mine in his. I knew he wasn't taking me to the observatory in the round room and I didn't protest.

Surprisingly, he didn't go down the long corridor leading to his bedchamber. He led me to the first room on the right, revealing the study I had seen briefly before. This time a comfortable fire-lit hearth and a candlelit table brought a warm glow to the darkness. The black curtains were open now, revealing the sea and the stars. Tempting bites of cheeses and fruits and sweet confections filled silver platters on the table where goblets and wine stood ready next to another bouquet of roses that enticingly scented the air.

"This is...this is wonderful. Thank you." I drew a breath, feeling the angst inside me ease. He'd shown as much care for me, a mere maid, as he would have a queen.

"Sean," he said. "You haven't said my name, Cassie. I want to hear it."

"Sean."

He closed his eyes a moment as if he wanted to commit the sound to memory.

Moving to the table, he pulled out a chair for me and set the pink rose on the table. I sat and he took the seat to my right, reaching for the wine. The seating was so close, so intimate that I could feel the heat of his arm next to mine. After pouring two glasses, he gestured to the food. "What is your favorite?"

I studied the delicacies a moment, biting my lip. "They all look delicious."

He laughed. "You can have them all, but which do you want first?"

His emphasis on the word brought his kiss at the door tingling back to my mind, drawing my gaze to his lips.

He smiled, leaned over, and brushed his lips against mine. "That can come first. You choose."

I picked up my wine goblet and sipped, surprised at its exotic sweet taste and warmth, and took another long drink, enjoying the feel. "This is unusual."

"It's spiced, a blend of Asian delicacies and clove, ginger and nutmeg. It is meant to please the palate and heighten your senses."

Meant to seduce. I pushed the thought away and took another sip, though not as much as before. With no safe passage mentioned, I had known his intent before I came, and had agreed to it at the door. It was too late for second thoughts. I also knew in my heart that if I really wanted to leave, he'd let me go without question.

"Since you don't have a preference, we'll save all of the sweets for last." Placing an assortment of cheese and grapes on both plates, he motioned for me to eat, and started himself.

I bit into the cheese. Fresh and soft, it nearly melted in my mouth.

"So your family lives in Oxford?"

I nearly choked on the cheese, realizing that conversation could be even more detrimental than kisses. "Yes."

"Mrs. Frye said your father lost his post."

"Well, yes. He is currently looking for something else," I said, rationalizing that searching for Apollo's temple would make the essence of that statement true. I continued to eat and drink, hoping he'd let the conversation drop.

"And you had to take a position of a maid because there was a scandal, involving you?" he asked a few minutes later.

"Yes, one that would make references difficult. I didn't try for any other position."

"You brought a gun with you here. Were you somehow forced in this scandal?"

Heat stole up my cheeks, and I grabbed for my wine, surprised to find it mostly gone. I finished it in one swallow. "In a manner of speaking."

"Did the bastard pay?"

I jumped at the ferocity in his voice, and my pulse raced at the anger barely veiled in his green eyes. "Yes." I looked away. When I found whoever harmed Mary, they would pay. "Can we speak of something else? If you haven't traveled in recent years, who collected all of the art that fills the castle, and the instruments in the music room?"

"A gruesome collection, isn't it? I'm not sure if my father or Sir Warwick collected the artifacts and their unique histories, as they both have a morbid sense of humor. I know my mother had the theater built with the piano, organ and harp. She loved music and invited a number of world-famous musicians here to play. As for the other collections, some came from past generations, but a number of things my father and mother collected before she died."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "I never knew her and my father never spoke of her."

"His grief was too great?"

"I couldn't say. Except for occasional hunting parties and to escape the city heat during the summer, he spent most of our youth in London while we were raised by servants here on the coast until attending the university in Cambridge."

"That's where you met your friends?"

"Ashton and Drayson? How did you know? Ah, in the kitchen that night. A memorable moment and not exactly all pleasant."

Heat flooded my face. "I hadn't meant to hurt you, hadn't realized what...well...happened."

"I survived." Smiling, he poured more wine for us both and picked up a confection. He held a sweet cake up to my lips. "Taste."

Feeling odd at being fed, but unable to resist, I drew the morsel into my mouth. His fingers brushed my lips, making me tingle deep inside. "Fig," I whispered, naming the fruit.

He smiled and held up another. "Now this one."

"It should be my turn." I bit into the treat. "Cinnamon and..."

"Honey, the nectar of the gods." Leaning back, he drank some of his wine.

"The confections are not all the same."

"No. I like a variety of flavors."

"I wouldn't have guessed that." I offered him one.

"Why?" he asked first, before tasting the morsel.

"Your life appears so uneventful in a conventional way. The solitude. The..." My thoughts scattered as he shook my world from its foundation. Instead of taking the sweet into his mouth, he wrapped his hand around my wrist, holding mine still, and took two bites of the treat before finishing it off, brushing the sugar from my fingertips with his tongue. His gaze never left mine. Thoughts of uneventful and conventional vanished.

I didn't remember to breathe until he let go of my wrist. Whether it was the wine or his burning sensuality, I was on fire.

"You read a lot." I stood and went over to the book cases next to the fire. A mistake. I was already too hot, so I moved to the French doors, and gasped, thankfully finding some relief from my burning desire in the sight of sea. Beyond a stone terrace stretched the moonlit water with splashes of silver cresting the waves, making a masterpiece of fluid beauty.

"A breathtaking view," he said. "Would you care for music?"

I turned from the sea. He'd risen from the table, cane in hand, and stood in the middle of the room as if unsure of what to do.

My abrupt departure from the table had to have been less than reassuring. But I didn't know what to say. I felt so torn between wanting him and doing what I knew a proper woman should. "Do you play an instrument?"