The bitter-sweet taste of licorice exploded on his tongue. Surprise overtook him. An equally bittersweet sensation.

"See-" she raised her brows "-I didn't forget."

It was his favorite candy and he had eaten a fair share of it, whilst recovering from a bout of scarlet fever that her mother had nursed him through. The same fever that had interrupted his clandestine courting of her and thoroughly ruined his shore leave.

During the ensuing years, James had forgotten how much he'd once enjoyed candy.

How odd that she would be the one to remind him of it. She who had never liked sweets.

The taste of the candy filled him with pleasure, warmth-something deeper than mere taste sensation. It gave him a sense of being connected to a previous version of himself. The young man he'd been whilst in love with her.

Someone who dared take joy in life.

But that younger version of himself was also someone capable of such deep emotion, such self-indulgent heartache over the loss of Sunny, capable of wallowing in self-pity. All of that had nearly cost him his career, his rank, his chance at a command of his own.

Yes, he'd taken himself in hand and forced himself to become a completely rational man. A man driven by reason and reason alone.

He'd been a serious-minded young man before the heartbreak had undone him.

He'd been shocked, dismayed to the pit of his being, to discover in himself such a potential for irrationality and emotional extravagance. He hadn't wanted to admit it. But he had been forced to see himself as something weaker than he'd previously believed himself to be.

But through his ordeal of weakness, he had transformed himself into something harder and sterner than that. It had served him well all these years.

He had no wish to go backwards.

"Will you take another?" she asked, holding a piece up to him, still smiling and still reminding him of the old, cheerful Sunny.

Pain tugged at his heart. But so did her seductive, sensual smile. And it wasn't a sexual seduction, not this time. He wanted another piece. His mouth watered for the licorice.

He wanted to hold on to the sense of sharing this childlike, innocent yet sensual pleasure with her.

He had forgotten how much he loved licorice.

But she never had.

Did that mean she had thought of him? That she had held onto and cherished certain memories of their time together, when she had cheered him out of his misery and made him fall utterly in love with her?

Was it possible?

His heart panged with the longing to believe.

Inwardly, he frowned at himself.

These were damned dangerous waters.

Since he'd seen her again, he'd been indulging his emotions, putting himself in danger of becoming soft. He'd even been drunk once.

She didn't love him.

She never had.

And she was wholly unsuitable for his current life. How many times must he remind himself of that immutable point?

"Where do you wish to go next?" he asked.

She put the piece of candy into her own mouth and her expression turned thoughtful.

He tried not to notice the sensual way her mouth moved as she sucked on the candy. "To a milliner's. I think I need a new hat."

"Of course you do," he said distractedly, for his thoughts had drifted, focused on how luscious it would be to kiss her, long and lingeringly, and to taste the licorice on her tongue.

"Oh yes, I definitely do need a new hat. But what color?" She clapped her gloved hands together. "Oh, pale blue with a bright yellow ribbon."

He was glad that she simply said yellow rather than jonquil. She'd always been a practical, unpretentious young woman. At least that had not changed. "You do look well in yellow."

She'd been wearing a simple day-dress of yellow muslin, with a wide pale-blue sash, the first day he'd ever seen her.

"Do you truly think so, James?" She laid her hand on his arm and glanced up whilst fluttering her lashes at him.

He had never seen her flutter her lashes. Not in that flirtatious manner. Not with that sensual glint turning her eyes to shimmering green velvet.

She caressed his arm. Her light touch betrayed a deep sensual skill. It sent sparks of fire through him despite the thickness of cloth that separated them. She held his gaze then let her little strawberry-red tongue slip out and slide along her upper lip.

A fresh bolt of lust slammed into his loins. He was no longer half-hard. He had a full-fledged erection.

She's a bold little baggage.

The shock of it hit him as though he'd only now become aware of the possibility.

Well, he hadn't believed them.

Now he saw a vixen staring back at him from Sunny's face.

It left him lusty and disquieted all at once.

Should he find this footman who had debauched her and call him out?

No. No gentleman called out a damned footman. So what then?

She was still caressing his arm. A sharp pang of desire cut through him. He winced inwardly.

He forced himself to remember where they were. On a public street.

A gentleman mustn't make a spectacle of a lady.

I must treat her with honor. She's my cousin's widow. And she's Sunny.

But who is Sunny now?

He pulled his arm away from her touch then held his arm out. "Come, I shall take you to the milliner's."

With the scent of dust and moldering paper burning his nostrils, James regarded the pale blue hat. The two ends of the wide, bright yellow ribbon hung down and provided a nice contrast against her dark plum gown.

He loved seeing her in something other than the drab mourning garb. It made him feel a little less as though Freddy's ghost were standing between them.

They were in a small chamber at the rear of the bookshop. He wouldn't have thought to look for such a closet here. But she had come straight this way and spent a good while rummaging through the books.

He was becoming rather eager for dinner, but he didn't want to spoil her obvious pleasure.

Finally, she turned and hurried to him, holding a stack of books. Her eyes implored him. "Would you purchase these for me?"

He reached into his pocket for money.

She raised her brows. "No, no, you must take them to the counter and purchase them. I can't possibly be seen doing so myself."

He frowned and took the top book, feeling at once the flimsy construction of the binding and the cheap, coarse cloth. He traced his hand over the bold red title.

Lady Scott's Passionate Affaire He picked up the next book and the next. Each one had a title more salacious than the one before it. Romances.

Or something more tawdry disguised as romances.

He looked down at her.

She lowered her gaze.

"Do you really wish to read books like this?" he asked.

"Please do not question me." Her voice sounded strained.

He felt like the worst coxcomb. Why had he done anything to make her feel ashamed? Was he some damned prude now? "I am sorry, I don't mean to make you feel questioned. But I cannot believe you want to read such books."

"What should I read? Books on moral hygiene? Etiquette? Needlepoint?"

Her voice was sharp. Defensive. He had hurt her.

Shamed her.

Yet, she seemed to have made a point of bringing him here and showing him these books. "My dear, you should read what you like. I am simply incredulous at this change in you."

At all the changes in you.

"I am not that girl you once knew." There was defiance in her tone.

Yet sadness misted her eyes.

"No, you are not," he agreed, trying to keep his own sadness out of his voice.

"I have developed a taste for romances and I do enjoy them." Distress darkened her expression. "Dr. Meeker directed Mrs. Tibbs to search my chamber for all such stimulating reading materials." She looked sadder. A little lost. Certainly vulnerable. "She took all my books and burnt them in the fire whilst I watched. I loved those books. I loved the escape of them."

"And where did you get such books?"

She evaded his gaze. "They were gifts."

"I see." He couldn't keep the terse edge from his voice. He suspected who had gifted her with such books. He didn't want to know.

"Oh, please, try to understand. There were times I felt as though I would go mad." She gave a wry smile. "Truly mad. I needed some kind of escape from my life. The romances lifted me out of the dreary terribleness."

"I do understand. But you needn't explain. It is none of my affair. You may purchase whatever takes your fancy." He took the stack of novels under one arm and then he touched her arm. "Let's go now."

But after having purchased the books and ushering her out of the shop, he sensed a new strain between them. He regretted having torn at the fragile threads of trust they had begun to build earlier in the afternoon.

James entered the chamber and turned the latch. The light was dim, but candlelight from an open door created a path on the floor which led to the next chamber.

Sunny's chamber.

An invitation if he'd ever seen one.

He paused in the act of removing his frockcoat. Didn't it show his intent? His intent? Hadn't she already inserted herself stark naked into his bed. Yet she'd been heavily drugged then, not in her right mind. In bygone days, except of course for when he'd been in his sickbed, he would never have appeared in front of a lady of good repute in a state of undress. Yet, the past night and day had brought so many revelations. Shocking accusations about Sunny's licentious behavior.

Behavior she was willing, even eager to admit to.

Are you going to take advantage of her?

No, of course not. I am just going to say good night to the woman. It's the civil thing to do.

The floorboards creaked here and there as he walked into her chamber. She looked up as he entered.

Candlelight bathed her in a soft glow. Her hair fell about her shoulders in loose curls, golden brown yet tinged by the orange firelight, reminding James of autumn leaves illuminated by the rosy aura of a setting sun. A slightly mussed, wanton display. But that wasn't what made him catch his breath.

She was also in a state of undress, wearing a green velvet wrapper trimmed in gold lace.

Yes, he had seen-and felt-her nakedness the previous night. That had been a shock, a mistake, something outside the expected.

But this was different.

She seemed sober. She had intentionally dressed in that enticing wrapper-a wrapper she had apparently packed with the few things she had brought with her from Blayne House. Had she planned this then?

Now, here, she had waited for him.

Left her door open to lead him to her.