"I have to say," she whispered, facing him in the tiny alcove lit only by a single candle, "this is quite bold of you."

He continued to gaze at her, the sensation disconcerting. As he took a slow step closer her breathing deepened. For heaven's sake, she'd grown up practically surrounded by soldiers and their silly attempts at seduction. Why, then, did having the Duke of Melbourne look at her make her knees weak?

"I do not know, my lord, what I should think."

She could tell herself it was because she needed to secure his cooperation and his influence, but no business she'd ever engaged in made her feel like this. "What are you waiting for? We haven't much time."

"Do you know who John Rice-Able is?" he finally uttered.

"What? I'm not here to be quizzed about acquaintances." She ran a finger along his lapel. "Kiss me, or go away so I can return to the play."

"Is that a yes?"

This close she had to look up at him to meet his gaze. That dark hair with the upturn at his collar, that mouth-if he ever relaxed from the hard place he held himself, she didn't think she would ever want to leave his presence. If only those eyes of his didn't...trouble her soul, as well as arouse her body.

"I do know When the blood burns, how prodigal the sou Lends the tongue vow."

"No, I don't know him. Why? Is he an investor?"

"He's an author. I thought you might have been introduced."

Josefina brushed his black sleeve with her fingers. Not touching him seemed absurdly difficult. "No. Are you jealous of him?"

"Not if you've never met." Finally lifting one of his hands, he touched her chin, lowering his face toward hers. When only a breath separated them, he stopped again. "Say my name," he murmured.

"Melbourne."

"No." His gaze lowered to her mouth. "Say my Christian name."

"In few, Ophelia, Do not believe his vows, for they are brokers..."

"Sebastian," she breathed.

He kissed her. Josefina wrapped her arms behind his neck, breathing him in. Silently he pushed her against the side wall, his mouth hot and hungry as it sought and captured hers again and again. His hands brushed her hips, and then his grip firmed, holding her hard against him.

"I want more," she rasped, clinging against him and not having to fake the sincerity and urgency in her voice. "I want you, Sebastian."

Again silently, he slid a hand up from her waist to her shoulders, the pressure of his fingers against the outside of her right breast making her gasp. With those clever fingers he lowered the shoulder of her burgundy gown, his lips following the trail of his hand.

"...Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds, The better to beguile."

He lowered the strap to her elbow, freeing her breast. For a heartbeat he gazed at the flesh he'd exposed, then lifted his gray eyes to her face. "It's been a very long time for me," he said, his voice shaking.

The loneliness and longing in his tone seared straight through to her heart. This was what she'd worried about, that he would want more of her than she even possessed. She'd already leapt into the fire, though, and her skin burned. "It's been a lifetime for me," she returned.

He kissed her again, those same clever fingers drawing feather-light, breath-stealing circles closer and closer around her breast until his short nails flicked across her nipple. She felt it all the way down between her thighs, and gasped again.

"Tell me where you'll live in San Saturus," he ordered, his mouth trailing down her shoulder and then clamping over her breast.

"Good...G.o.d," she managed, digging her fingers into his dark hair. "Why?"

"I want to hear you talk about it."

"I've only seen it...ah, once," she said in a shaking whisper. Her knees wanted to give way as he peeled the cloth from her left shoulder and began caressing her other breast, as well.

"What color is it?"

"White...white stone, with tall...mm mmm...windows to let in the ocean breeze."

"How many rooms?"

Was he thinking of moving in? Oh, G.o.d, she hoped so, if only so he would do this to her every night. "Hundreds. Enough for the royal guard and every cabinet minister."

He straightened, taking her lips again. "Do you want to know something?" he whispered against her mouth, his fingers still caressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Tell me," she panted, pressing against his hands.

"I think you're lying." With another rough kiss he returned her sleeves to her shoulders and stepped back.

Josefina's mind was a puddle of l.u.s.t and surprise and dawning frustration. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I don't know what it is, exactly," he continued, his voice still not quite steady, "but something's going on."

"The air bites shrowdly, it is very cold."

"The only thing that's going on, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she snapped, adjusting the front of her gown, "is that you've proven that you're not good enough for me." She pushed past him and grabbed the curtain.

Melbourne clamped a hand on her shoulder, his grip like iron. "We're not finished," he rumbled, turning her to face him. "How do you do it?"

Half panicked, she jerked free. "Do what? I have no idea what you're-"

"How do you make me...want you like this? Is it your perfume, or some drug on your skin? What-"

"So you think you must be drugged to feel attracted to me? We are finished here, sir." She yanked the curtain aside and stepped through, into the hallway.

Conchita immediately hurried forward. "Your Highness? Are you-"

Josefina brushed her away. With every fiber of her being she wanted to flee the building, flee London, flee her own skin, which was still hot and sensitive from his touch. So he thought he was being used, or seduced, that she was lying. But didn't everyone lie and seduce to get that what they wanted or needed? Oh, she hated Melbourne right now-and she still wanted him, d.a.m.n it all. And d.a.m.n him.

Chapter 9.

S ebastian closed the privacy curtain again as Josefina and her maid returned to the box. As for himself, both caution and propriety demanded that he remain in hiding for another few minutes.

G.o.d, she aroused him, and though his logical, practical mind had determined to put a stop to their encounter before any lasting and provable damage could be done, his body-his c.o.c.k-wanted badly to continue.

Initially he had meant to continue, to go as far as was necessary to discover what it was about her and about Costa Habichuela that troubled him so. But immediately-too immediately, as far as his body was concerned-she had struck a note that rang false.

Why would San Saturus-by all of her and her father's accounts a small, picturesque town made up mostly of natives and English ex-patriots-boast a white-stoned behemoth of a palace consisting of hundreds of rooms? The Mosquito King didn't reside there, or he wouldn't have given it away. And if the Spanish knew of a manor of that size overlooking a well-protected ocean harbor, they would have sent troops after it.

But perhaps she'd exaggerated in order to impress him. Perhaps the huge palace was a small villa with tens of rooms. Perhaps the ocean breeze was as pleasant and beckoning as she and the prospectus claimed. And perhaps he was an idiot looking for reasons to distrust a woman toward whom he otherwise felt a great deal of interest and attraction.

"d.a.m.nation," he muttered, and pulled open the curtain. As he did so, a gleam on the carpeted floor caught his eye. Josefina's pearl necklace lay there in a forgotten heap. Sebastian picked it up, placed it in his pocket, and went to find a footman and some gla.s.ses of port.

When he returned to his box, Josefina was seated beside the still-snoring Harek. Even with her back turned he could feel her hostility. That could be useful, as well. She would have to decide whether her anger outweighed whatever it was she needed from him. He handed one of the gla.s.ses to Shay and sat.

"What took you so long?" his brother whispered. "I was ready to begin poking Harek just so I could be certain he wasn't dead and the lot of you hadn't completely deserted me."

"I had them fetch me a better bottle," Sebastian lied. "I refuse to drink the watered-down tripe they generally offer. But here, hold this a moment." He handed over his own gla.s.s before he reached into his pocket. As he produced the pearl necklace, his brother's eyes widened.

"What-"

"Shh." Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against Josefina's left ear. "I believe this is yours," he murmured, sliding his hand along the arm of her chair to place the necklace in her palm. "Put it in your reticule. It won't do for anyone to see you dressing in public."

"Thank you, Your Grace," she said audibly, her voice rich and easy as always. If not for the shaking of her fingers he would have thought her perfectly composed.

As he sat back and recaptured his drink, Shay continued to eye him. "She dropped it," he said matter-of-factly. "I saw it on the floor just outside."

"Mm-hm."

"Do you think I ran out and bought it just now? Watch the b.l.o.o.d.y play."

"I am."

During intermission Josefina smiled and chatted with their rapt fellow theater guests as though he hadn't rendered her moaning and half naked earlier, but he noticed that she had either Harek's arm or Shay's, and kept at least one of them between herself and him.

He wondered whether she was more angry that he hadn't completed the seduction, or that he'd caught her in what was most probably a lie. Whatever the answer was to that question, he meant to find out.

In the morning he stifled a yawn as he took his seat in the House of Lords. Four hours of Denmarkian tragedy followed by another six of sleeplessness had soured his mood beyond what even he could call reasonable. As soon as the morning's arguments began over Prinny's newest round of debts, he leaned forward to tap the shoulder of the gentleman seated below him.

The fellow turned around. "Melbourne."

"Lord Beltram. I was wondering if you'd received my inquiry."

"I did. In fact," and he patted his left breast pocket, then pulled a folded piece of paper from it, "I found your fellow. He resides in Eton. Teaches there, actually."

Sebastian took the paper from the minister. "My thanks," he said, opening it to read the address. "You've saved me a great deal of effort."

"Then perhaps you won't mind introducing me to those South American royals when they all return to London. At ninety pounds a bond, I'm pulling out of the Italian loans and buying stock in Costa Habichuela. How much have you purchased? Half the country, I'll wager, since you've got the rey practically in your pocket."

"Certainly I'll introduce you, William," he said carefully. If his suspicions were unfounded, he was not going to be the one to cause all of the infant country's much-needed investors to flee. England could use the alliance. "Though you know Harek's taken over the liaison position. I have too many of my own candles burning as it is."

"No doubt," Beltram said, chuckling. He looked past Sebastian. "Lord Deverill."

A hand clapped Sebastian on the shoulder. "Beltram, Melbourne," the marquis said with a short smile.

"Valentine," Sebastian returned. "This is a bit early in the day for you, isn't it?"

His brother-in-law sank into his seat. "You have no idea. Rose has decided she must have teeth, and Eleanor's decided that baths in lavender water will soothe the infant, so I've decided that at the moment Corbett House is the loudest, smelliest location in Britain."

Sebastian laughed. "You were warned that domesticity has its perils."

"Yes, I know. For the most part I actually adore it. To think that Nell and I made that small, squawking, giggling bundle-it's...humbling."

For a moment Sebastian gazed at his closest friend. "I know what you mean," he finally said, waiting for the pang in his chest he always felt when he thought of what he'd planned with Charlotte, and what they hadn't had time to do. The pain was still there, but it felt older, like a regret rather than a fresh wound.

"Speaking of idiots," Valentine said, breaking into his reverie, "apparently Harek's taking the princess to Tattersall's today."

"Were we speaking of idiots?"

"Maybe that was just me. I'm trying to figure out why a king looking for investors and contacts leaves his business liaison with his daughter while he rides off to Scotland."

"Because the best way to legitimize a new regime is to marry it with an old, established one."

Valentine looked across the crowded chamber. "You knew that from the beginning, didn't you? That you were being maneuvered toward the altar?"

"It wasn't exactly subtle."

"Then I understand why you resigned your post with them. What baffles me, though, is why you're still waltzing with the chit and taking her to the theater."

The question sounded so simple; it was simple. Something about the circ.u.mstances of Costa Habichuela troubled him, and he wanted his questions answered. To do that, however, he might just as easily have pursued a friendship with the rey and thereby spared himself any entanglements with the daughter. "Whatever my personal reservations," he said in a low voice, "I have no reason to discourage investors. If I cut ties without explanation, that would likely result."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," the marquis returned. "After Parliament I'm sending my accountant out to purchase a hundred bonds. With a family to think of now, I'm looking for a solid, long-term investment."

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. "Hold off on that, will you?" he muttered.

"Aha! I knew it. What the devil's going on?"

Sebastian scowled at his hands. "Maybe nothing. I don't know. It's just that I've conducted enough business to know that very few things have no downside to them. I'm still trying to determine what the underbelly of Costa Habichuela looks like."

"Fair enough."

It sounded that way, thankfully, but they both knew that he hadn't explained why he continued to focus his attention on Princess Josefina, and why even when he suspected that all was not precisely as she claimed, the most pressing matter seemed to be finding another opportunity to see her.

Harek had found a bench several yards from the main auction pen at Tattersalls, and as Josefina sat and greeted and chatted with everyone from viscounts to grooms, she felt as though she was holding court. The duke stood at her elbow, acting every inch the host, while Lieutenant May served as a visible, black-garbed bodyguard.

"I bought two bonds yesterday," a well-dressed young man was saying as he all but knelt at her feet. "Do you have plans to sell plots of land? I've read the prospectus, and I have to say that I'd rather take my chances owning land in Costa Habichuela than in relying on the charity of my father and older brother."

"He is the youngest son to the Marquis of Bronshire," Harek whispered, leaning over her shoulder. "Five older siblings."

"That isn't something the rey had planned for this visit," she returned with a smile, "but I will let him know that we have at least one interested party."