At least the boys wouldn't have to read this now. He wondered where her letter to him was. He knew she'd written to him, doubtless more absurd pap, just couched in different terms.

He was on the point of calling Duckett to dispatch the footmen to the various posting houses in London. He stopped, his fingers inches from the bell cord. Oh, no, he knew where Lily had gone. Undoubtedly she'd taken flight to the only posting house she knew of. He realized he was taking something of a chance with this assumption, but he was certain enough to continue.

Knight drew on his cloak and gloves and said to Duckett, "Mrs. Winthrop is an idiot. I am going to fetch her. Don't say anything to anyone."

"Certainly not, my lord."

"Arnold? Whatever are you doing here?" Lily wasn't afraid, but she was startled and dismayed to see him.

"Hello, Lily."

"Yes, hello, Arnold. I repeat, what are you doing here? Are you preparing to return home?" She turned to wave toward the posting house, and in doing so, she pulled away from him, very matter-of-factly, and straightened her cloak.

"You look beautiful," Arnold said.

Lily became very still. She said quietly, calmly, "How is Gertrude, Arnold?"

He said nothing, merely stared at her, like a hungry Bedouin at a lone sheep.

"Haven't you written to Gertrude? How long ago did you leave Yorkshire?"

"I followed you, Lily. I want you. Please, I'll give you whatever you want, but you must come with me. We'll go to France, to Italy, wherever you wish, Lily, only-"

"Stop, Arnold. Just be quiet." She had to think. Lord, this was a ridiculous situation.

"You are rid of the children, thank the powers. You did it for us, didn't you, Lily? You made the viscount their legal guardian so we could be together?"

"Arnold," she said, angry now, "your oars are not in the water. The viscount very properly became their guardian for two reasons. First of all, it was his duty; second, he saw to it that you couldn't coerce us-me-into coming back to Yorkshire to endure Gertrude's contempt and your pawing."

"Lily, no. I won't paw you, truly I won't. I love you."

She saw his pallor, the widened pupils, heard the quavering in his voice. Oh, dear, what had happened to Ugly Arnold? "Listen to me," she said, lightly placing her fingers on his coat sleeve. "Let's go inside and have a cup of tea. You would like that, wouldn't you, Arnold? You are not looking at all well." He wasn't-he looked like a man with a fanatical mission. Was she his mission? Lily shuddered, unable to help herself.

"You want me to touch you, don't you, Lily? I saw you quivering for my fingers to touch you, my mouth. Oh, God, Lily, let's leave right now. We can be to Dover before morning and-"

"No, that's quite enough." Lily jerked away from him and turned on her heel to stride back to the inn. In the next instant Arnold grabbed her arm and jerked her backward, against him. She felt his hot breath sting her cheek. She felt his hand cup over her mouth, felt his other arm go around her waist.

This was insane.

Where were all the people? It was dark, clouds obscuring the quarter moon. She could hear men and women laughing, talking, from the posting house, not more than thirty feet away. Then she felt a frisson of fear. Don't be absurd, she told herself. It's Arnold. Only Ugly Arnold. She could handle him, surely. The way she'd handled him back at Damson Farm?

He was dragging her away from the inn. She sent her elbow into his stomach. He grunted but held on tightly. Lily began to fight him with all her strength and she knew her blows struck well, causing him pain. Yet he held on as a mongrel would to a bone. She tried to bite his hand, but her teeth only scraped against his smooth palm.

This was ridiculous.

He dragged her behind the stables, into a malodorous alleyway. "Not much further," she heard him pant near her ear. "I have a room for us nearby. We'll be alone, Lily, finally alone, and you'll see, you'll want me."

Lily closed her eyes for an instant, then knew she had to calm herself. She had to think, to outsmart Ugly Arnold. Surely that wasn't beyond her; surely she wasn't that bereft of sense. Then she heard another man's voice and her heart sank.

"Ye got 'er, eh, Mr. Smith?"

"Aye, I've got her, Boggs. No more need for you now, my lad. Wait a moment and I'll pay you the two quid I promised."

"Gawd, what a purty piece she be," Boggs marveled. "Lookee at that hair, soft as a kitten's fur, it is, and that smooth white face, Lordy, purtier than when we saw her at the Pantheon Bazaar, and I want-"

Those were the last words Mr. Boggs spoke. Lily stared dumbfounded as the huge man fell in a soundless heap three feet away from them.

Knight. He was standing there in the shadows gently rubbing the gloved knuckles of his right hand.

"I suggest, Mr. Damson, that you release her immediately."

He sounded amused. Really, Lily thought, didn't he realize that this was at least a little bit serious, that Ugly Arnold was kidnapping her?

"No!" Arnold yelled. "She's mine, damn you. Mine and I'll have her, do you hear me?"

"You are yelling loud enough to bring Bow Street down on yourself. Surely I can hear you. However, you may not have her. Let her go now."

Arnold yanked her back harder as he took a step away from Knight. Lily gave him another elbow, this time lower, in his belly. He howled but still held onto her as if she were the only raft in the middle of an ocean.

"You bore me, Arnold," Knight said, "and you are obviously annoying the lady." In the next instant Lily was free, falling to her hands and knees on the filthy ground. She jerked about to see Knight lifting Arnold off the ground by his shirt collar. He shook him like a rat, speaking slowly and forcefully as he did so. "You will go home, Arnold, or I will put a bullet through your arm. Do you understand me?"

"No! I want-"

Knight slammed him against the side of a building. "Listen to me, you miserable little slug. I won't have her bothered again, ever. You come around again, you let me see your ugly face just one more time, and I won't put a bullet through your puny arm, I'll put it through your little black heart. Go home to your wife!" Knight released Arnold and he slid down the wall to the ground. He didn't move. Arnold wasn't stupid when things were properly explained to him.

Knight turned. "Lily, are you all right?"

Lily was still on her hands and knees, looking up at him. "How did you find me?"

He merely shrugged. "You aren't the most creative runaway. I had a feeling that you would return to the posting house you arrived at. And you did. Here, let me help you up." He offered her his hand and she grasped it. She staggered a bit when on her feet, but Knight made no move to assist her. When she was firmly standing again, he took her arm and drew her away from the alleyway. "I would just as soon say what I have to say to you without fear of interruption from either of those two scum."

She didn't utter another word until they reached the hackney that waited on the other side of the inn. "My valise," she said.

Knight didn't pause. He gave her the coldest look. "Forget it." He opened the door and gave her a hand up. He stepped back and said to the driver, "I want you to drive around. I will tell you when to stop."

"Aye, governor," said the driver and clicked his nag into motion. Knight sat himself opposite Lily. Suddenly, without warning, the hackney hit a deep rut and Lily was tossed into his lap. It was as if the dam had broken. His hands were on her upper arms and he was shaking her.

"You damned stupid woman! How could you pull such a ridiculous stunt?"

"I don't know," Lily said, aware that her legs were tangled with his, her breasts pressed against his chest, and that he was holding her up.

Knight cursed luridly, lifted her onto his thighs, clasped her tightly against him, and kissed her, hard.

Nine.

Knight was a wild man. His tongue was probing for entrance-he wanted to taste her now-and to his besotted joy, she parted her lips to him. He felt the moment she responded to him, and her response-uninhibited, incredibly passionate-sent him over the edge. His tongue was in her mouth, delving, learning her textures, reveling in her sweet taste; then, finally, he managed to gain a semblance of control. He drew back a bit, his lips, his tongue, slowing, gentling. But he couldn't gentle his hands and arms. He was clutching her, pushing her back against his arm, and his right hand was at her breast, kneading, learning her, and he felt her shudder and arch her back upward, giving herself to him utterly.

He heard a small moan and that brought him abruptly to his beleaguered senses. His hands dropped from her so quickly that she nearly fell. He grabbed her about her waist and put her on the opposite seat.

Then he looked at her. The light was dim but it didn't matter, he could still see her, and it shook him to his toes. She was staring fixedly at his mouth. Her incredible eyes had darkened in color with her passion, her hunger for him still there for him to see.

It hurt him to breathe. "Lily, don't look at me like that."

She didn't know what he was talking about. She wanted to tell him that she felt the oddest sort of heat deep in her belly, and an ache so insistent and wonderful that it made her press her thighs tightly together. She heard her heartbeat pounding loudly, drowning out everything. She tasted him on her lips with her tongue; her breasts swelled and ached. She felt alive, wildly alive, for the first time in her life. She stared at him, not understanding, but wanting to tell him, to have him make her feel all those things again.

"Stop doing that, dammit."

It required all his resolution not to pounce on her again. His hands were fisted at his sides. He told them to stay there. Still she sat there just staring at him as if she didn't comprehend what had happened, as if she hadn't wanted him to stop kissing her, to stop touching her, caressing her-"Stop it."

"I heard you," she said, and her breath expelled on a soft sigh. "I'm not doing anything at all."

He said brutally, to save himself, "You are looking at me like you want me to ravish you, to take you right here in this damned filthy hackney. Is that what you want, Lily? You want me to toss up your skirts and ram myself into you, right here, right now?"

Her wildly beating heart slowed quite suddenly to a painfully diminished pace. The coursing waves of heat receded. She tried to put his angry words together, to make meaning of them.

"The devil take you, woman. Your virgin act is ludicrous. Tris had you since you were fifteen damned years old. What is it? You miss a man? Is that it? You're as randy for me as I am for you? Why didn't you stay with Ugly Arnold in Yorkshire? He would have been more than willing to plow your belly whenever you wished it. Lord knows, it would have saved my sanity."

He thrust his fist against the ceiling. In a moment, the hackney came to a stop. "Go home and go to bed. After all, you do have the headache, don't you?"

He wrenched open the door and jumped down, then slammed it. Lily heard him give the driver directions. She said nothing, merely sat on the cracked leather seat, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. It started to rain. She listened to the rat-tat-tat on the roof of the hackney. Foolishly she hoped Knight wouldn't be caught in it. She didn't want him to take a chill.

Fool.

Duckett was waiting for her. He took one look at her disheveled, dirty clothing, her tangled hair, her pale face, her shocked eyes, and quickly called for Mrs. Allgood.

Mrs. Allgood immediately took charge. She gathered Lily to her side. "You just come with me, lovey. I'll tuck you in. No, now don't you worry about the children. Laura Beth is sound asleep. His lordship saw to that before he left to fetch you. No, no need to say anything. I understand, truly I do."

Lily wondered how she could understand. How could anyone understand? She didn't herself.

"Oh, dear, I fear your gown is quite ruined. But your beautiful cloak is all right. The ermine isn't damaged."

Within fifteen minutes, Lily was in her long flannel nightgown, in her bed, Laura Beth clasped against her side, deeply asleep.

Plow her belly. She supposed that referred to the act of possession by men. Her fingertips lightly touched her stomach, then moved slowly lower to where that wonderful throbbing ache had centered. She wasn't stupid. Although she'd never seen a man's body, she knew it was very different from hers, that it had a rod that stuck out from the groin when the man felt desire. One time when Tris had held her closely after her father's death, his sex had pressed hard against her belly. She'd felt nothing except vague distaste then, but later, when she thought about it, she knew he'd wanted to come inside her body.

She'd never really dwelt on the subject of sex after that one time, and on the surface of things the entire business seemed odd in the extreme to her and horribly embarrassing for the man. But it hadn't seemed at all distasteful while Knight had been kissing her and fondling her breast with his wild fingers, molding her against him. She'd wanted more and more and she hadn't realized that he'd stopped wanting her until he'd pushed her away.

Lily shuddered. He'd accused her of driving him mad. Well, she could go to Bedlam with him, for what he had done to her in the hackney had certainly made her become another person, a woman who had no control over herself. She shuddered again, wondering how it would feel to have his long fingers raise her flannel nightgown and stroke her naked flesh. Stop it, you half-wit. She didn't, though, until sleep finally claimed her.

Knight had himself firmly in hand. He realized that he'd placed himself behind his desk to give himself distance, to put her in the position of the supplicant. He didn't care. He needed every advantage with her that he could devise.

Ten minutes later, a light rap sounded on the library door. "Come," he called, pleased that his voice sounded as indifferent as he planned to act.

Lily slithered into the room. There was no other way to put it, he thought, watching her and feeling himself harden with instant lust. Damn her, why? This morning she was wearing a simple gray muslin gown, cut high under her breasts, sleeves long and fitted, the collar so high it nearly touched her chin. Her luxuriant hair was drawn severely back. He should tell her that such nunlike efforts only made her appear more alluring. It was true that she was incredibly lovely, but he'd known lovely women before, made love to them, enjoyed them, and left them eventually without regrets. What he needed to do was make love to her; then all this ridiculous aberrant behavior would disappear. But he couldn't. She was a lady, the widow of his dead cousin, and she was so passionate that it made him tremble just to remember. He stiffened ramrod-straight in the chair.

"Do come in and sit down, Lily." He himself didn't rise. It was rude, but he didn't care.

She didn't once look at him.

That helped.

"How is your headache this morning?"

That brought her head up and she stared at him blankly.

"Ah, of a certainty that was a lie, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she said as she eased down into a chair. She sighed. "I fear that it was. I should have been more thoughtful before I spoke."

He frowned just a moment, then forced his features into no expression at all.

"Are the children all right?"

"Yes."

"John Jones will be here in three hours for you to interview him. I trust you plan to remain here for that length of time?"

"I won't leave again unless you toss me out.

"Oh, I shan't do that. It would doubtless make the children impossible to handle. Also, how could I make them understand that their mother is obviously a very foolish, very stupid woman, who willy-nilly leaves her offspring because of some kind of inexplicable martyrish streak?"

"You probably couldn't. Make them understand, that is. Sam would probably hit you first, particularly if he thought you were insulting me."

He paused. At least she was speaking to him now. Good. "All right, enough sniping. It brings me no pleasure, especially since all you do is act like a whipped dog." He saw her cheeks gain color and knew he was getting her goat. She deserved it. He raised his hand to stop her. "I know why you left yesterday evening. I know about the lady and gentleman who accosted you in the park yesterday."

That brought her to the edge of her chair. "But Sam and Theo promised, they-"

"Laura Beth didn't promise. She was the one who told me. She told me she wanted to toss the lady into the Tims. She said the lady called you a harlot and a whore and accused you of causing me-a fine, upstanding man of high moral character-to be ostracized by society. My question is, why didn't you bother to enlighten me, Lily? It is a vague possibility that I could have provided some alternative other than flight for you."

Lily studied the globe that stood beside Knight's huge desk on a brass stand. She said finally, ignoring his question, "It's true. I didn't want you to be upset. I suppose I wanted to protect you, for you don't deserve any of the horrid talk."

"My God, woman, I pray your form of protection is never in the hands of my enemies."

"Also, I didn't want you to blame the children or look at all of us and curse the day we arrived."

"I've already done that, innumerable times."

Her eyes flew to his face and he saw pain there and blank surprise.

His hand slashed through the air. "Who was the lady? And the gentleman?"

"She didn't introduce herself. She evidently knew us, though. The gentleman didn't say anything either until after she rode away, and then-" She stopped abruptly and began a concentrated study of the globe.