But she wouldn't see the man without James present.

Now James paced the parlor as they waited.

She knew it took time out of his day for him to travel all the way from Mayfair. She knew she was a small part of his life.

He had told her.

He had shown her by leaving her in the house. Settled her, as he had called it. They then had communicated only through letters.

He had given her leave to touch herself in bed at night.

He had no need for her now. No need to master her or to have her save her sexual energies for him.

But he had come to see to her welfare.

Let me care for you, Catriona.

His words echoed in her mind.

He cared for her.

But he did not love her.

Our blood runs cold.

Blayne blood.

She shivered.

As though his senses were acute enough to perceive her shiver, he turned from the window. His dark brows drew together tightly. "You're cold?"

"A bit."

"You're nervous." It was a statement not a question. He went and tugged on the bell pull. "I'll call for tea and a wrap for you."

She shook her head. "I am not hungry. I don't want tea."

"You should have something warm and sustaining if you are cold." His gaze sharpened. "You look pale. Have you been sleeping well?"

She knew from his tone that he was really asking if she had been having nightmares. She didn't want to answer. Yes, she'd had some. But what matter was it of his? He wasn't really a part of her life now. She couldn't even let herself imagine that he would be here for her.

She must learn to cope with these things on her own.

He approached her then stood looking down at her coolly. Impersonally.

Her chest tightened. Her eyes burned. She blinked, hard.

He put his hand beneath her chin, touching her lightly. "You still belong to me."

Did she?

Would he take her upstairs? Would he ask her to service his needs? Would he soften to her and become her tender lover again?

"You must take care of yourself." He tightened his hold. "Or else I shall be forced to hire someone to assure that you do."

"A keeper?" She tried to flinch away but he held her fast.

"If necessary."

"Like Mrs. Tibbs?"

His eyes flashed and he compressed his lips. "You needn't become truculent with me."

With her heart hammering in her chest, she said nothing.

"You are well taken care of."

The tightness in her chest grew until she could barely breathe.

"What do you want from me, Catriona? You needn't sulk like this. You need only ask."

She would never ask for what she wanted-what she needed most.

Even after having been virtually sold to Frances Blayne by her parents, even after all the things Freddy had done and said, she still had some pride left.

Or was she just finding her pride?

"Ask, Catriona." He ground out the words. His silver-blue eyes burned with emotion.

But which emotion?

Lust?

Affection?

Concern?

Or was it just ire because she was being difficult?

What had she expected from him? He was an important nobleman. She had known that there would be times when other duties would require all his attention.

But no...she did know those things to be true. But she didn't know how it would feel to be shunted aside like a-oh God, like a plaything.

Like a whore.

"You're trying my patience," he said, his expression hardening.

A knock sounded at the door.

Irritation flashed in his eyes. He jerked his hand away from her chin and turned on his heel to face the door. "Enter!"

The maid came in.

"Bring tea and cakes for Lady Blayne."

"My lord, the doctor is here and waiting."

"Show him in."

"The tea, my lord?"

"Ready it, but don't bring it until I call."

The girl bobbed a curtsy. "Yes, my lord."

She left. James walked to the door then turned back, his gaze burning into Sunny's. "Do not think that you can manipulate me with any feminine theatrics or sulks," he said, his voice low but with an edge that sent a chill through her.

So, she was expected not to feel the sting of his putting her aside?

She was expected to be a doll. To wait for his return and to smile pleasantly at his least attention, even when she was close to breaking apart inside?

What had she expected?

He had not lied to her.

But I can't live with this.

She would have to learn to live with it.

If she wanted to remain his.

Was being his worth this kind of pain?

"I shall go to my estate for Christmas," he said. "I will expect you to accompany me. Make sure you have an adequate number of gowns, something suitable for a ball."

She put her hand to her collarbone and opened her mouth to speak.

"You cannot avoid society forever," he went on "A country ball will provide an excellent chance for you to be a hostess and to re-enter society. You are my cousin's widow. It will do you honor in other people's eyes that I asked to render me such an important service."

"I suppose, but I know nothing of preparing for such a gala celebration."

He regarded her for a moment. "I'll make sure that you have access to someone with enough experience to guide you."

"Frances..."

He held up a forestalling hand. "I think the less contact you have with Aunt Frances the better."

Her mouth fell open.

"Yes, your soft heart." Something glowed in his eyes and there was a momentary easing of his stern expression.

Warmth entered her, centering in her chest.

His expression turned stern. "Remember what she did. She is capable of deceit and is completely taken in by Meeker."

"You don't think he would..."

Deadly cold showed in his eyes. "He wouldn't dare."

"I miss Frances."

"Of course you do. But she cannot be trusted. I forbid you to contact her. I'll find someone suitable. It is not your worry. I have told you to prepare your wardrobe; that and your own mental preparation is all you need concern yourself with."

"Yes, my lord," she said, unable to keep her tone from becoming clipped. She didn't wish to be his polite society hostess. She wanted to be his lover, to warm his bed. To have him warm her. The nights were growing chilly.

"You'll bring Ailise."

"But she's not out," Sunny blurted.

"Yes, but she will come no matter. It will give an extra layer of respectability to your coming. My cousin's widow chaperoning my half-sister. No one can look askance at that."

His tone brooked no refusal.

Nevertheless, Sunny tried to think of the right way to refuse.

A knock sounded on the door, startling her out of her deep deliberation.

James sat at the desk in the study of the house that he had purchased for Catriona, nursing a brandy. Earlier, he had stood at the window, his back decently turned whilst the doctor made his more intimate examination of Catriona. If the doctor had thought James' presence was peculiar, he didn't have the impudence to indicate it by gesture or remark. A concession for which James was damned glad. He'd had enough truculence from Catriona.

She didn't understand, that much was clear.

They mustn't reveal the fact that they were lovers, not even by the mere brushing of fingers or a too-lengthy gaze. At least not here in London where there were so many prying eyes.

Not only did he have to keep his distance from her for the sake of both of their reputations, but he was presently consumed with pressing business.

It wasn't his way to be idle, and he had neglected his affairs for far too long. Now back in his old life, he had fallen into his regular patterns. After the distractions of the previous weeks, the unsettling nature of his tormented, irrational passions for Catriona, he had found those patterns to be a comfort.

His mind was full of so many things, far too many to list them all. But most pressing was a business venture in India that might prove very lucrative. He also had been attending to his political contacts, hopping from event to event, spending the evenings in endless tedium as the little season played out. And he had to make preparations for spending December at his estate.

He knew Catriona did not want to play hostess for him. That was unfortunate. But everyone had duties they found distasteful. He had catered to her for quite a while now. It was high time that she put the past behind her and accepted her role as a dowager countess.

She could be useful to him. To the Blaynes.

She would have to be useful in order to have an excuse for remaining close to him.

In the country, they would be amid squires who were eager to gain, and most of all, to keep his favor. Simple genteel folk who held less power, who were less likely to influence the gossip of Mayfair. Things would be more relaxed, more informal. There would be times when he could allow himself to steal private moments with Catriona. They would have to be careful, oh so careful. There would be those few servants, those closest to himself and Catriona, whom he must pay handsomely to keep their eyes averted and their ears closed.