His hands stroked down her back and cupped her buttocks, lifting her against him, pressing her hard against him. The heat exploded and she forgot her embarrassment, forgot that she didn't want him to know what she was feeling. She simply didn't care. She just wanted more and more- He was so hard and she was squirming against him, her hands around his neck now, her fingers tangling in his hair, her mouth ravishing his. Oh, goodness, she wanted more and more and he gave and gave and oddly, at least to Lily, everything he did, every touch of his fingers, his lips, the pressure of his body, made her wilder than the moment before. How could he know? How could he possibly realize what he was doing to her?

She was in a frenzy for him now as his hands caressed her buttocks, molding and working her against him. He quickly turned, pressing her back against an oak tree. He drew away for a moment, knelt, and yanked up her riding skirt.

She groaned and he rose to quickly cover her mouth again. She felt his fingers moving toward her knees. Her knees, for goodness' sakes. She was trembling wildly, waiting, seeing his fingers on her stockings, moving upward, ever upward, where her woman's flesh was heated, damp, and aching. And she didn't care. She parted her legs for him and heard him suck in his breath.

His fingers moved slowly, ever so slowly, and now they touched her garter, then the top of her stockings. She was dizzy with expectation, with anticipation, with uncertainty.

"Lily," he said, his breath jagged and warm in her mouth. "Do you like this?" His fingers skimmed lightly over the bare flesh of her thigh. "What are you feeling, Lily? Tell me."

He lifted his face and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. Her breathing was ragged. "Open your eyes."

She did and the embarrassment was gone, or perhaps it had never been a real part of her. "What do you feel, Lily?" he asked again, his eyes never leaving hers.

His fingers stroked over her inner thigh, then moved higher. When they found her, she cried out, tensing, her back arching, her hands tightening about his arms.

"You are so beautiful and so warm and so very soft. What do you feel, Lily?"

She moistened her lips. "I-oh, God, Knight, please, oh."

He slipped his middle finger inside her, easing upward as he pressed her back against the tree, and her eyes glazed with pleasure.

"Please what, Lily?"

He withdrew his finger, then inserted it again, just a small way. She was narrow, very tight, actually, and he was going mad. She was breathing hard, but she still looked at him, and he could see everything she felt in her eyes.

Then his fingers probed further and she cried out, her hands fists now, pounding against his shoulders, and he wanted to yell himself at the pleasure of it. He would bring her to her climax now, bring her so much pleasure she'd be beyond thought, beyond any more of her stupid arguments. He wouldn't take her this time, no, he simply wanted her agreement to marry him. And he would have it. She was his now and she had to know it. She had to admit it. To him, aloud.

He felt an ungodly painful protest in his groin at his damnable decision. But he wasn't a randy boy, he could control his lust, and he certainly would. He wouldn't take her until she'd said yes to marriage to him.

His fingers wove passion through her and she grabbed him suddenly, bringing his mouth back down to hers. And he kissed her hard.

He could feel her tensing. He eased the pressure, smiling to himself, knowing he would just make it build and build until she was crazy for him, crazy for the pleasure he would give her. She'd say yes to anything.

"Lily, will you marry me?"

For a brief instant, she was apart from the passion and she looked lost and frightened. He hated it. He wouldn't stand for it. He caressed her again, making her eyes daze with pleasure, making her hips push against his fingers.

He heard the shouts before she did.

"Mrs. Winthrop! Lord Castlerosse!"

No, he thought, no, it wasn't fair, it couldn't be.

The shouts were coming nearer.

She was close, so very close, moving against his fingers, her breasts heaving madly, her breath hot and wild against his mouth.

"Lily," he said very softly against her parted lips. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry."

His fingers left her.

"Lily."

"Mrs. Winthrop! Lord Castlerosse!"

Her eyes slowly regained their focus, the vagueness slowly receding. She became aware that her body was still moving against his, begging for his fingers.

She cried out in mortification.

He understood. He rubbed her arms, up and down. "Lily, I'm sorry. Sweetheart, are you all right? Damn, I'm so very sorry, you were so close."

Close to those awesome feelings he'd brought her to that other time. She finally made her body become perfectly still. She felt a near pain between her thighs. Her head dropped forward onto his shoulder. He pulled her away from the tree and stroked his hands up and down her back, saying over and over, "I'm sorry, God, I'm so sorry to leave you like that."

He'd called her sweetheart. It sounded wonderful.

"Mrs. Winthrop!"

She raised her head, her eyes intelligent with awareness now. "Who is calling us? Oh, it's John. Something's happened-oh, no, what's happened? The children, oh, God."

"Shush, Lily. Hold still a minute." He quickly straightened her clothes, then his. There was nothing he could do about the jacket he'd tossed to the ground. He scanned her face but decided that only he could see the remnants of passion there, hidden now but simmering, waiting for him, just for him.

He drew a deep breath and smiled at her, tenderly. He lightly touched his fingertips to her lips, his smile widening at her reaction, and called out, "We're here, John."

John wasn't a particularly worldly young man. On the other hand, neither was he stupid. He felt like a clod and he was embarrassed to the tips of his boots. But he couldn't leave.

"Ma'am," he said, his Adam's apple bobbing. "It's Sam, he was mucking out a stall and got kicked. His leg is sprained, I think, but not broken."

Knight quickly took hold of Lily's hand. "Has Thrombin sent for the doctor?"

"Yes, my lord. Please don't be frightened, Mrs. Winthrop. I examined him and it's really not all that serious. He's quite all right, but he wants you and his lordship."

"Yes, yes, I'm coming. Oh, where is Violet?"

"We'll be right along, John," Knight said, and there was dismissal in his voice. John nodded and rode away with alacrity.

"It's all right, Lily. Just a simple sprain. He's a boy, you know, and boys are always doing stupid things."

Knight could see that she was frantic with worry, and that worry for Sam was mixed with the knowledge that she'd been standing against an oak tree, a man's fingers driving her to distraction, while Sam was being kicked. He saw shame wash her face clean of any color.

"Stop it." He shook her. "You have nothing to feel guilty about. You couldn't have stopped the horse from kicking Sam. Come along. The boy needs us."

Lily drew a deep breath. She looked at him. "You're right. Thank you."

He dropped his hands and smiled. She walked away from him, twisting her hair up into a chignon as she walked.

Then she realized she had no pins. Angrily, quite aware of her stupidity, she stuffed her hair down into her collar. And kept walking until she saw her riding hat on the ground. She leaned down and picked it up, not looking at it.

She slammed it on her head.

I've got you now, Lily, he thought. Be as furious as you please. It won't do you a bit of good. You're mine.

BEAR ALLEY.

WHITEHALL, LONDON.

Monk gave a loud bark of laughter, then moaned just as loud.

"Oh, aye, Monk, 'old still now, ye're not yet 'ealed."

"Ye got that right, Boy." Monk allowed Boy to settle him against the dirty pillows again. He sighed. "But what ye said, I liked that. Aye, 'ire one of them bloody solicitors to get them sparklers back. Aye, I like that. Send the fellow to 'is bloody lordship with a proposition."

"A rare scrawny little cove," Boy said, envisioning this solicitor. "With a big black 'at and a funny way of talking."

"We'll get the sparklers, Boy, aye, we will. Another few days, then I'll be fit again. Then I'll get that bloody damned lordship."

"'Is sticker went pretty deep, Monk. At least three more days, that bloody doctor said."

"'E set us up, ye know," Monk said, ignoring his cohort's words. "'E set us up and we walked right into 'is trap."

"Who? What?"

"The viscount," Monk said, more patient than usual since he was dependent upon Boy's goodwill to keep him fed and watered and his bandage changed.

Monk's eyes narrowed, but it wasn't just the thought of revenge that narrowed them. It was his own body stench. The room was small, the single window nailed shut. "If ye 'adn't popped 'im one, 'e and 'is friend would have nabbed us but good."

Boy was pleased with that faint praise. "I've never been much good with stickers," he said modestly.

"No, ye're a bloody ass with a sticker. Ye can't wound a man properly. Lookee what ye did to ole Tris. But I'll get 'is lordship, and with my special sticker. 'And me my stiletto, Boy. Aye, a fine piece of work, ain't it?"

"We'll kill 'is lordship, don't ye worry about it, Monk."

"Aye, we will," Monk agreed, his eyes on the sharp, narrow silver blade of the stiletto. "But you know, I quite liked 'im. A brave cove, 'e is, and full of pluck and guts. Aye, I'll tear 'is gullet out."

Boy tried a smile, decided it wasn't appropriate, and downed a glass of stale ale instead.

CASTLE ROSSE.

"You're such a brave boy, and no, I won't leave you, Sam." Lily felt his small hand tighten its grip about hers. "Just a few more minutes, love, and Dr. Mumfries will give you a piece of hard candy, your favorite."

"Licorice, Mama?"

"Licorice," Lily said.

Sam groaned and bit down on his lower lip.

"It's all right, love, go ahead and scream your head off. I would."

"But you're a girl, Mama," Sam pointed out with unerring accuracy. "Boy's can't do that."

"You can groan," Knight told him. "That's manly, I swear it. Why, just last week I was groaning to beat anything."

"When those footpads attacked you?"

Ah, Lily thought, Knight had managed to divert his attention. Lily moved slightly so Knight could sit down beside Sam. She saw him take the boy's hand, heard his mesmerizing voice, and watched Sam respond to him.

"...then, unfortunately for me, the other fellow, Boy is his name, shot me. I ducked, but not quite in time. Then Julien St. Clair came along and the two of them scurried away. That's right, Sam, a nice tearing moan. Good, I quite liked the sound of that. And Dr. Mumfries is finished with you."

"But what about Monk? The one you sliced up?"

"I don't know. I will tell you when I find out, though, I promise you, my boy."

Dr. Mumfries, a man new to the county, was impressed with the viscount but didn't understand how he came to have three children living with him and why, more importantly, this beautiful young woman was called Mama by the children. He supposed it was none of his affair. He smiled at Sam and said, "You're game, my boy. A pleasure to take care of you. Now, you'll be off that leg for one week, no sooner, mind, else it be the worse for you. Here's some laudanum in your lemonade. Drink it."

Sam, too tired to argue, opened his mouth.

Five minutes later he was fast asleep.

Lily smiled at Dr. Mumfries and thanked him for the dozenth time. "He'll sleep like the de-well, soundly," Dr. Mumfries quickly amended.

"Is he all right, truly, sir?"

Knight saw a white-faced Theo standing against the corridor wall. He looked worried enough to be sick and Knight said quickly, "Of course he's all right, Theo. What did you expect? Sam's much too much a pain in the-well, he's a real goer, an absolute terror, you know that, Theo."

"I'll sit with him, sir. Mama, I'll take care of him, I promise. I'll read to him and-"

Knight put his hand on Theo's thin shoulder.

"Theo, you are his brother. You aren't his mother or his doctor or the horse that kicked him. I'm counting on you to finish up my library. If you spend all your time with Sam, you won't finish my library and very likely you'll end up by strangling your brother. Then poor John would be out of a job."

"But how, sir?"

"Why, my dear Theo, you would go to Newgate, then to the hangman's noose, for murdering your brother. Sam would go to either heaven or hell; I'm not sure which place would have him. John would be stuck with Laura Beth. On second thought, the poor fellow would probably leave Castle Rosse, his eyes crossed."

Theo laughed, a weak sound, but still a laugh.

"Come along, let's have some lemonade. Have you tasted Mimms's lemonade? Certainly you have. It'll make your mouth pucker for at least an hour."

Knight nodded to Dr. Mumfries, then strolled down the corridor, his hand still on Theo's shoulder.

Dr. Mumfries shook his head and smiled. "The viscount is excellent with children. I'm surprised he doesn't have a dozen of his own. Of course, he's still young. Not so very surprising after all."

"That's right. He isn't forty."

"Good heavens, no. Now, Mrs. Winthrop, I prescribe a small bit of brandy for you. You've suffered quite a shock."