The thought of her leaving bothered him. He didnat want her to have things to do that were more important. He wanted to occupy her time, and she couldn't seem to wait to get shed of him. Of course, he had been a horse's ass since arriving, but he was a charming man who could certainly figure out how to change her mind. "Fine. Then we shall speak of other things." Leaning against a chair, trying to look casual, he asked, "How have you been?"

"You are unbelievable"a"she shook her head, reaching for uhe doora""and I am dreadfully busy."

Used to crowds and social interaction, he was unwilling to acknowledge that they helped to keep his personal demons at bay. The prospect of spending the afternoon entertaining himself in this big house or around the estate, even though it was supposedly his home, was daunting. "What will I do all afternoon if you won't stay to chat?"

He smiled, trying to make light of the question, but she heard through it to the longing which lay underneath, and her look was one of pity. "I don't care. Drink or gamble or whatever it is you do when you're up and about in the daylight. I'll make sure your supper is arranged for nine."

With a sharp thck, the door closed behind her. In the silence, he realized that he hadn't even mentioned the reason for his visit.

Chapter Eighteen.

After an incredibly long, boring afternoon and evening, Phillip entered the drawing room at one minute of nine, expecting to see his wife and perhaps his daughter dressed and waiting for him to escort them to supper. The room was empty and silent. Wondering if they'd rudely gone ahead without him, he poked his head into ahe dining room. It, too, was empty except for a quartet >f servants who stood perfectly poised, dressed and fastidiously ready to offer assistance for his every whim.

The long table, capable of comfortably seating thirty, flittered under the beautiful chandeliers. At the head, one pathetic-looking place setting waited. Feeling as though he were walking to an appointment with the guillotine, he forced one foot in front of the other until he reached the opposite end of the room. A servant held out his chair.

"Wine, sir?" the first man asked.

"That will be fine,"

The man began to pour and the glug of the liquid as it chugged into the crystal goblet echoed around the empty room. The tip of the bottle nicked the rim of the glass, and the ping seemed so overly loud in the silent place that the Earl jumped.

Although he wasn't sure what he'd expected by showing up at the estate unannounced, this was hardly the homecoming he'd imagined. He managed to suffer through the first three courses, each scrape of silver across china causing him to wince, until he decided he could no longer bear the solitude. After only nibbling at the fish which had been so deliciously prepared, he pushed away the plate. "I believe that will be all. Thank you. You may be excused."

The servants looked at each other, their distress obvious, as they wondered if they'd offended somehow. "Is something amiss, sir?" one of them found the courage to ask.

"No, everything was excellent. I'm simply more tired than I thought after my long journey."

Another inquired, "Would you like us to send a tray up to your room, sir? Perhaps you'd feel like a bite later on."

He knew he wouldn't, but they all looked so hopeful. "Yes, perhaps. Thank you."

One man scooped away his plate, another his glassware, the third his eating utensils, and they shuffled off. As the three men left the room, the fourth servant, a young woman, followed, walking behind his chair. He turned slightly and caught her eye. "I've not seen my wife. I hope she hasn't taken ill. Has she eaten?"

"Milady ate some time ago, sir."

"I see." The devil made him ask. "Di she dine alone?"

"No, sir. Several people were present. Working sups, she calls them. They were making plans for the morrow."

"What sorts of plans?"

"Well, about the crops and the harvest and whatnot."

"I'd like a word with her. Do you know where she is at the moment?"

"Already abed would be my guess. Exhausted usually by this time of the evening, sir. Gets up early, that one does. And works from dawn to dusk. Never saw the likes from a lady like herself." The girl blushed prettily. "If I may say so, sir, we're all quite taken with her."

She rushed out after the men, leaving Phillip alone to brood. He poured himself a glass of port and contemplated the long night stretching ahead. With few prospects for enjoyment, he wandered down the hall, eventually ending up in the library. There were books and papers scattered everywhere, and he sat behind the desk, sifting through the piles. With nothing better to do, he picked up a notebook entitled, Five-Year Plan, and began to read.

Two hours later, shortly after midnight, Jane walked into the library and was completely shocked to see him. A single lamp illuminated the desktop as he carefully read one of her theories. Off to the side, he had a piece of paper on which he appeared to be making a long list of notes. Her heart pounded. Was he criticizing her efforts? Changing? Canceling? Would all her hard work come to naught with a stoke of his pen?

So absorbed was he in what he was reading, he failed to notice her arrival, and she took the moment to study him. In the shadows, with his shirt undone, his hair tousled from running a hand through it, he was more handsome than ever. While always before he'd been carefully playing the part of the bored aristocrat, in the quiet darkness of his own library, unobserved and unaware, he seemed a different man. Gentle, studious, pensive. He looked younger and sadder and so terribly alone.

Jane's maternal instincts pushed her to say somethinga" he seemed so approachable like thisa"but she didnat, because she stood in the doorway, dressed only in her nightgown and robe, the same nightclothes she'd been wearing on the evening he'd proposed at the apartment in London. Never again would she let him see her in such a state of undress, because it might encourage him toward exercising his marital rights.

During their heated argument earlier in the afternoon, there had hardly been time for him to discuss their situation regarding coupling. Certainly, his responsibility to provide an heir would require that they resume marital relations at some point in time, but she wasn't about to tempt fate. Taking a step back, she meant to slip out undetected and head to her room. As bad luck would have it, he looked up just as she made her move.

They stared at each other silently, until Phillip broke the tension by lifting his wineglass and taking a careful sip. "Hello, Jane."

"Hello, milord."

"Call me Phillip, please."

"I'd rather not be so informal, sir. We hardly know one another."

Phillip gave a derisive snort "What are you doing wandering the halls?"

"I couldn't sleep. I was drinking to work a bit"

"From what I hear, you work all the time."

"There's much to do, sir." She shrugged. She was dying to ask what he was notating, but refused to give in to her fears that he was disapproving of her tasks. After the horrendous day she'd suffered due to his arrival, she couldn't bear to hear any of his criticisms. "I trust your supper was well served."

" 'Twas excellent, if a tad bit lonely. I had expected your company."

"My apologies then, sir. After the anger you showed me earlier, I hadn't imagined that you would wish to dine with me."

God's teeth, but he enjoyed her frankness. "You've done a good job with the house and the servants, Jane. I'm well pleased with what I've seen."

Jane couldn't believe she was blushing from the compliment. "Thank you, sir. I had so hoped you would appreciate what I've done on your behalf."

"I do. Very much."

The exchange became increasingly awkward. It seemed as though he wanted to say something more, perhaps apologize when he didnat quite know how, and she felt as though she were choking on the apprehension. She had to leave before he shattered their precious peace by saying the wrong thing.

"Well, men, I'm sorry I interrupted. I bid you good night."

Although he wasn't certain, she seemed to be wearing the same nightclothes she'd had on the evening they became engaged. The night he had been so thoroughly enchanted and aroused by her he'd barely been able to keep himself from stealing her maidenhood. Was she remembering just as he was? She turned to go, and he desperately didnat want her to leave.

Knowing exactly how to get her to stay, he said, "I've reviewed your numbers for years four and five, and I don't see how you figure the projected profit."

The comment caused her to stop in her tracks, and she whirled around, amazed that he'd gleaned so much from his review. She and Richard had haggled endlessly about the numbers he'd just mentioned. Very suspicious. "I thought you didnat understand anything about figures."

"I never said I didnat understand them. I simply don't care for the tedium of bookwork, while you obviously enjoy it very much."

The comment sounded like a criticism. "I'll not apologize for my interest."

"You shouldn't. From the moment I first learned about you, I suspected that our differing interests would make us a good team." He lifted his glass and toasted her. "After reviewing some of your work, I'd say I was right. You've done very well. I'm impressed. Your idea, to begin by fixing small pieces then working toward bigger ones, would never have occurred to me. I'm truly grateful, and extremely intrigued by the entire process."

She was blushing again. He was sincere, and the knowledge that he appreciated the extent of her hard work was the only welcome news she'd received in a good long time. "I must confess I acted out of necessity. My dower funds will not last forever. After I arrived here and reviewed the books, I knew we'd need to take action before too long. So I began on my own."

"A wise move."

"I've taken some liberties, but I didnat think you'd want to be apprised of what was happening here. From everything I've heard, you would not care."

"That's not true. This place is my heritage, and caring for it is my responsibility. I do have some questions, just so I may have a better understanding. Would you mind spending a few minutes?" He reached for a chair in the corner and pulled it behind the desk, next to his own.

In her current state of dishabille, Jane knew she should refuse. There would be plenty of time in the morning to discuss money and estate plans. However, in the short time she'd known her husband, he had rarely seemed so accessible as he was at the moment, and she longed for a smoother relationship with him, one in which they could converse without shouting.

"If you wish, I would be glad to." She moved to the desk and sat next to him. It took all her willpower not to reach out and stroke his cheek with her hand. Instead, she forced her gaze back down to the books stacked on top of the desk.

Phillip smiled at her obvious discomfort as he wondered how long, if ever, it would take them to get past the dreadful night of their wedding. They had to find a common ground on which they could live and work without all the emotion that seemed to flare every time they were together. "I've made a list of questions. Shall we go over them?"

"That would be a good start."

For the next few hours, Phillip asked questions and Jane answered them, opening books or notes, pointing out ledger statements, adding debit and credit columns. The tension that had marked his arrival gradually dwindled. The quiet room, the darkened surroundings, the shared interest in the task at hand, all lent themselves to providing an atmosphere of intimate conversation, which both seized hold of without realizing it.

Gradually, Phillip's interest moved beyond the intellectual. Jane's assured nature, her casual manner in answering his questions and her relaxed attitude in dealing with him, began to attract his attention in other ways.

With each passing minute, he found himself watching her rather than listening. Distractedly, she reached for his wineglass and helped herself to a sip. When she finished and set it back on the desk, he reached for it and sipped slowly from the very spot her lips had touched. Eventually, he moved closer until his arm rested across the back of her chair.

Jane couldn't believe how much she enjoyed the time she was passing with her husband. Contrary to all her preconceived notions, he was bright and inquisitive. Able to point out flaws in her logic without offending. Able to change the direction of her thinking with subtle suggestions which helped her to see things in a better light. He was funny and talkative. And actually, very sweet. For a moment, she felt herself longing for what might have existed between them if they hadn't gotten off to such a rocky start.

For some reason, the room suddenly seemed quieter. Wessington seemed closer. She glanced to the side, only to find him staring at her intently.

"What?" she asked. His beautiful dark eyes glowed intensely.

Without responding verbally, Wessington leaned across the few inches which separated them and rested his lips against hers. The contact lasted only a moment, long enough for Jane to feel their warmth and sweetness, before she jumped back as if she'd received a jolt. She rested her fingertips against her lips.

One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile, and a previously unnoticed dimple graced his cheek. With a lock of hair falling across his forehead and beard stubble shadowing his face, he looked positively wicked.

"Why did you do that?"

"I couldn't help myself." Without giving either of them a chance to think further, he leaned closer again, resting his hands on the arms of the chair, effectively trapping her. He pressed his lips to hers, tasting the wine she'd sipped, licking her lips, he asked silently for them to open. At the slightest parting, he took immediate advantage, making tentative love to her mouth, tracing his tongue along her teeth, finding her tongue and offering sweet invitation. He rose, pressing her back into her chair.

Jane was not sure what had happened. One moment, she was discussing farming, and the next, Wessington had his lips locked with her own. At the first contact, she should have refused the invitation, but as usual when she was in his presence, her body welcomed what her mind would not tolerate. He was such a handsome, virile man, used to getting what he wanted from women, and she simply wasn't experienced enough to know how to refuse. Still, after their wedding night, it seemed odd that her body could so readily accept his advances.

His tongue stroked her own, causing that strange heat to swell and pull against her lower belly. Knowing now what would occur if they continued, she couldn't imagine why nature would cause her body to crave such a thing. Mating was a painful, disgusting experience which she had no intention of ever repeating.

As Wessington deepened the kiss, her panic started to mount. Di he intend to enforce his marital rights here in the library? What if she refused? Would he force his attentions? As her husband, he had every right to do so.

She pressed a palm against his chest and wrenched her lips away from his. "Please, Wessington," she gasped, out of breath, "please don't."

Phillip gazed into her luminous emerald eyes. Where a moment ago, they'd been confused but accepting, now he saw only resolve and something else. Fear. She was afraid of him.

At his moment of hesitation, she braced her feet against the floor and rocked her chair backward, effectively removing herself from the circle of his arms. She jumped to her feet. Clutching the lapels of her robe closed, she said frantically, "Please, sir, I don't want this from you."

Amazed to find that his own wife was frightened of him, he reached out a hand in supplication, as though gentling a skittish horse. "Don't be afraid of me, Jane. I would never hurt you."

"That's a lie. You've already hurt me. I'll not let you do it again." She whirled and fled from the library before he could make a move to stop her.

Her bare feet carried her down the hall until he could no longer hear the soft fall of her steps. Walking to the sideboard, he refilled his wineglass and gulped down the contents.

He had kissed her passionately, and he'd wanted to continue. To go on and on until he had taken her right there on the library desk. Why?

It would be easiest to convince himself that his sudden desire for her occurred because he was ready and she was available. But if simple lust were the reason, then anyone would do, and he could have bedded any number of tavern wenches on his journey to the estate. No, in all honesty, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he'd been holding himself back until he arrived so he could bed Jane, the abstinence on the way only serving to make his joining with her more enjoyable.

Because of her wedding night, she was afraid of the sexual act, but that fear was of his own making. He was an experienced lover and had the skill to show her how it could be between them. Without giving further thought to the matter, knowing only that he had to have her and have her now, he followed her to the room she'd taken for herself, one of the smaller guest rooms far on the other side of the house from his own.

Silent as a mouse, he turned the knob and slipped inside. Jane was already abed, and the room was dark. He could still smell the lingering smoke from her extinguished candle. He tiptoed to the bedside, standing and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then reached down and rested a hand on her shoulder, just able to feel her shape through the heavy bedcovers.

Jane had thought she'd heard someone open the door, but had dismissed it as her overactive imagination until she felt the hand on her. Wessington, with his unmistakable presence, stood next to the bed. What did he intend? Her heart pounded with fear.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered. Before he could answer, she leaned over and relit the candle, giving shape to his figure. She felt safer with the light burning.

"I find myself overcome with desire. I wish to make love to you," he whispered back.

"I'll never do such a thing again."

The covers had slipped to her waist. Through the thin fabric of her nightgown, he could see her nipples. Her pulse was throbbing at the base of her throat. Unable to resist, he reached for a breast and gently traced the contour. At the same time, he leaned down and rubbed his cheek against her own. "Don't be afraid."

"You can't do this." Her panic increased as he reached for the covers.

"I'm your husband, Jane," he responded, his exasperation clearly evident. "It's all right. I'll be ever so gentle with you. I swear it."

"You don't understand," she said, pushing him away. "Emily is here with me."

"What?" he pulled back and looked across the bed, seeing for the first time the other figure sleeping peacefully next to his wife. "She's nearly grown. What is she doing here?"

"She was very distressed today."

"By what?"

"By you!"

"Me? But I did nothing to the girl."

"Exactly my point. She was crushed. You've been here all day and didnat spare her a second."

Phillip refused to be moved by the girl's feelings. Somehow he sensed that if he succumbed once to thinking about her in a kind way, he would lose his dispassionate method of dealing with her. He couldn't afford to do that. "Wake her, and tell her to return to her own room."

"I will not."