"Why are you walking in the rain?"

"Because my last carriage was confiscated by creditors, and when I left my club a while ago, I hadn't any pocket coin to hire a cab for the ride home."

Several emotions warred inside her, the strongest seeming to be pity for him and his fallen state. What must it be like to be such a proud, well-known gentleman and to have everything being taken away a bit at a time? His world was tipping off its axis as quickly as her own.

"I have some money in my reticule. Remind me to give it to you before you leave."

"I'm too embarrassed to accept your coins." "I don't mind giving them to you. Really. I can't bear the thought of you walking alone out in all this rain." Phillip sighed. "I'm pitiful, am I not?" "No, I don't think so. And I'm sorry for your troubles."

He shook his head. "Don't be. I bring most of them on myself." He slipped his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together.

At the sudden, intimate touch, Jane looked up into his eyes. It occurred to her that he was much too close. With their hands entwined, she couldn't help but face, once again, the inappropriateness of the situation. Except it didnat feel inappropriate. It felt perfectly normal to be sitting with him, holding hands in the firelight, while they exchanged confidences. "I think we've a bit in common. I seem to have brought most of my own problems on, also." "How's that?"

"Being here in London, trying to find a husband." "And you feel marriage is a problem for you?" "Well, I hadn't planned on it, you see." "Not now? Or not ever?"

"Not now, certainly. Perhaps not ever. I don't know."

Phillip shifted slightly, taking in her profile. She wanted to look sideways, but they were already too close and any movement on her part would bring them even closer.

Out of the blue, he asked, "May I call you Jane?"

Jane's stomach tickled at the way her name rolled off his tongue. So slow and sensual as though she'd never heard a man speak it before. She knew that propriety dictated the use of her first name was too familiar and she should say no, but she couldn't. "I ... I guess that would be all right."

"Jane, you're very pretty and have such a pleasing manner. Surely, you had many suitors at home seeking your hand. Why have you not been married before now?"

"Well, my father was very kind about letting me make my own decision about the thing, and I turned away a few gentlemen."

"Why?"

"Because I enjoyed my work at the Shipworks too much, and I was afraid a husband would insist I curtail my duties." And, she didnat add, the young men who had come courting all seemed too tame. None of them had set her heart fluttering or sent chills down her spine. If she had decided to marry, she had always told herself that she had to do better than so many of her acquaintances had done. Elizabeth was typical, with her stodgy, boring husband. Jane shuddered at the thought of such a dull, depressing existence. She'd go mad living such a life. Better to stay single.

"So tell me, if your father was so understanding all this time, why is he suddenly in such a blasted hurry to marry you off?"

"Oh, that. . ."Jane wasn't sure how much to tell him without revealing her family's private business. On the one hand, her love of Gregory was not something he needed to know about On the other, if he might consider marriage, she di owe him some kind of explanation for her dire circumstances. She settled on middle ground. A little of the truth, but not all. "Well, there was a gentleman, you see, to whom I'd taken a fancy, and my father didnat feel he was appropriate for me."

"Ah, yes, I do see very well, indeed." Phillip wondered who the fellow was. A sailor? Perhaps one of the shipwrights working at the Shipworks? "And are you so willing to blindly go along with his wishes?"

"Well, he is my father, and he's ordered it, so I have no choice, but I'm also doing it for personal reasons." Jane wondered what he'd say, but she had to know. "He's forbidden me to return to my position at the business until I've been married at least six months. Only then may I come back to work.

"It means so much to you, this job?"

"Yes. I couldn't possibly marry someone who didnat understand that it means everything to me."

A smile lifted the corners of Phillip's mouth. If they ended up married, he'd never let her return to Portsmouth. If she was so bound and determined to work at something meaningful, he had plenty of tasks to keep her occupied at the Wessington properties. In time, she'd forget all about her own family's business.

"Yes, I can see how it would be important to you. 'Twould be a travesty for you to be kept from something you enjoy so much." The lie came easily enough, and he didnat feel a touch of guilt for voicing it. Everything was working out much better than he'd hoped or planned.

Chapter Eight.

Jane stared down at their joined hands. His thumb had begun tracing circles across her palm. It was strange that such a simple movement in such an innocuous spot could send butterflies cascading through her stomach. The gesture was making it hard to concentrate. She realized that he was speaking again, but with her attention completely focused on the subtle movement of his thumb, she hadn't noticed. "What did you say, milord?"

"I said: 'Perhaps we have more in common than we thought.' Perhaps we should talk about the need we both have to marry." He only needed to find out one more thing about her. His responsibility to the tide required him to provide an heir, so he'd have to bed her occasionally. While he didnat need a sexual whirlwind in his bed he had plenty of those he wanted someone who was at least willing to learn and participate in the experience. He started his experiment by playing with her hand.

She tried to pull it away, but he wouldn't let go. "I don't think you should be doing that."

"Why?"

The force of his gaze required that she meet his. Up so close, she noticed, for the first time, that his lashes were long and dark. Beautiful. "Because it's not proper, and we hardly know each other." She tugged again, but he raised the hand to his mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise as he stretched her fingers back and pressed a tender, gentle kiss to the middle of her palm. His lips were warm and soft.

This time, she tugged harder and rose, moving away and across the room to stand before the fire. From one small kiss, not even on the mouth but on the hand, her emotions were in turmoil. She was in far over her head and not certain how to swim to safety.

Phillip knew she wanted to break the tension between them, but he couldn't allow her to do so. He had to know how far he could push her and how she would respond, so he followed and stood behind her. Resting his hands lightly on her shoulders, he nuzzled his face in her exquisite long tresses, inhaling the scent of lilacs hovering around her.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked with a shaky voice.

"Because I want to touch you. I know you're an innocent, but surely you know we would have to touch each other in intimate ways if we were wed."

"Yes, I know."

"I want to know how it feels to touch you. I want to know if you enjoy it."

His whisper tickled the hair resting along her ear, and when he placed a kiss there, he stepped closer, letting his body, chest to thighs, touch hers along her back and buttocks. He felt her stiffen, hesitate, then relax, the slight easing bringing her into closer contact He pulled the sweep of her hair to one side, baring her neck and a bit of shoulder, then settled his lips on the creamy expanse of skin. As his mouth nipped and sucked, he lowered his hands along her arms to wrap around her stomach, so he could ease his loins against her backside. He was hard as a rock, and either she was too inexperienced to know what she was feeling or she didnat care.

"Marry me, Jane."

"Oh, Lord Wessington," she groaned, "I don't know." The moist lips, the biting teeth, were wreaking havoc with her senses. The arms encircling her, the broad shoulders and tight chest pressed so closely, and his lower body against her bottom!

Lord Wessington was aroused by her and not afraid to let her know. The very idea that she could excite such a man inspired a new burst of flutters across her abdomen and down to that secret place between her legs. Wrapped in his arms, she felt beautiful and desirable. Wanting to increase the feeling, she tipped her head to the side, baring more skin for him to torment. She raised a hand, resting her palm against his cheek and gave a tug, urging him closer.

He chuckled, but responded eagerly, increasing the pressure. "Marry me," he whispered again.

Jane closed her eyes at the lovely agony he was inflicting with his mouth. The feelings he stirred were so naughty, so shocking, but so wonderful that she wouldn't have stopped him for anything in the world. Her breathless voice, usually so full and sure, sounded as though it belonged to someone else. "What can you give me through marriage that I don't already have?"

"I will give you my name."

"I have one that's respected around the kingdom and across the seas."

"I will share my tide."

"I've no need of one."

"My homes."

"I already own one that is perfectly fine."

"Then what is left but my passion?"

He turned her, and she came willingly. His lips moved across her eyelids, brushing gently over each one before moving across her brow, down her cheek, along her chin. They left a trail of fire as they moved, and she waited eagerly for his to join with hers, but she was left to groan softly as he moved past, only to create new sensations by nuzzling under her chin, along her neck.

She placed her own kisses in return. Learning the feel of his cheek, his forehead. More daring, she raised her fingers and ran them through his thick, dark hair. It was soft and full, still damp from the rain, and she loved the way it sifted through her fingers as she worked her way to his shoulders. They were broad and strong, and she could feel his muscles shifting and changing as he wrapped his arms around her. She was completely surrounded by him, by his arms and legs, his thighs, one hand running up and down her spine, the other resting on the small of her back, urging her closer to the fire.

At the corner of her mouth, he nipped in invitation. Lifting her mass of hair, he cradled her head in his palm. His voice low and seductive, he whispered, "I'm going to kiss you, Jane."

"Yes, please," she murmured against his lips.

It was all the invitation he needed. He tasted and cherished her sweetness and warmth as his desire surged to aching heights. To his surprise, he was enjoying this moment more than he'd thought possible. She was fresh, and pretty, so different from the jaded women who filled his nights that he'd almost forgotten what kissing could be like.

Women like Margaret, with their sexual skill and prowess, could provide interesting diversion with their experience, but their innocence was long gone, their sense of wonder long forgotten, their actions all seeming to have a hidden motive. Jane's surprise was genuine, her enjoyment honest, her delight intoxicating.

Her lips were full and beautiful. As he moved over them, a small sound of pleasure escaped from the back of her throat, and she trembled slightly in his arms. He was certain that there was a hidden passion buried in her, waiting to be let loose; and much to his surprise, he wanted to be the one to free it.

She hesitated at first, not certain of what he wanted as he guided his tongue along her teeth, teasing them until she felt its tip touch her own. Immediately, she understood the pleasure he was offering and accepted him inside, her tongue dueling with his. His own groan of pleasure escaped as she stood on her toes and wrapped her hands behind his neck to pull him deeper into the embrace.

He welcomed her closer, her robe now open, the sheer fabric of her nightdress barely offering any resistance at all to his senses. Plump, round breasts, the tiny peaks hard with arousal, were pressed against his chest. Her heart thundered beneath them. Those long, shapely legs were captured in his own, the muscles of her thighs flexing and changing as she shifted against him. The mound of her femininity was wedged tightly against his aroused male part The taste, the scent, the feel of her were so overwhelming, he couldn't bear the thought of stopping.

Over the past year, Gregory had provided her with numerous opportunities for fond embraces, but none of them had prepared Jane in the slightest for Lord Wessington. His tongue was inside her mouth, moving back and forth in a rhythm with his hips that Jane instinctively sensed must be the rhythm of mating. He was completely at ease with his arousal and unashamed to have her feel the hard length of him pressed against her stomach, and there seemed to be so much of him there!

The pressure of his hips at the V of her thighs was incredible and created a heated fire through her breasts, down her stomach, causing a painful ache between her legs. As his mouth and hips played their dastardly games, his hands never stopped for a moment, roving across her body, seeming to touch every inch. They stopped on her buttocks, kneading the soft flesh as he pulled her ever closer, leaving nothing to the imagination.

When she'd agreed to let him kiss her, she'd envisioned something along the lines of Gregory's chaste embracesa"embraces which would be sweetly enjoyed and easily ended. With Wessington, the sensations were simply too intense, and she wasn't at all sure how to stop what they'd started.

There was not enough air in the room for breathing. Wrenching her lips away from his, her breathing labored, her voice unsteady, she begged, "Lord Wessington, please. A moment please ..."

Phillip pulled back, aware of nothing in the room except Jane. Her lips were swollen and wet from his kisses, her eyes wide with wonder. "Marry me." It was an order this time. His mouth descended to kiss and nibble at the pulse pounding against her throat "Lord Wessington," she sighed, twisting her head in a slight effort to pull away. The motion simply provided him greater access.

"Say my name."

"Wessington," she sighed again.

"No, my given name: Phillip. I want to hear it on your lips."

"I can't. I can't ..." she shook her head in protest, and he couldn't wait for more as he once again covered her mouth with his own.

The kiss went on and on as he tasted, sampled, seduced. Before she knew it, somehow she was on her back on the sofa with Wessington stretched out at her side. His hard thigh rested across her womanhood, his knee pressing in a slight rhythm which her hips seemed bound and determined to match. The lace holding the front of her nightgown together began to give way as his fingers deftly worked it loose. It wasn't until she felt the hot, rough callus of his palm resting in the valley between her breasts that her body began to fully shout an alarm.

She reached for his wrist, trying to stop him, but not managing before he was able to close his fingers around a nipple. The pleasure and the pain of it was exquisitea" searing wet heat between her legs and she tried to twist away. Holding his hand still, pulling her lips from his, she panted, "Please, milord. Please, we must stop."

"No. Not now. Let me . . ."

"Please," she begged.

"I don't want to stop, love. I need you."

To hear such a man as the Earl whispering that he needed her was nearly her undoing, and even as she protested, her traitorous body was offering full acceptance of his ministrations. Her back arched, offering her breasts up for closer attention.

Phillip was so caught up in the moment that he wasn't thinking clearly. He wanted to drink his fill, to bury himself, to never leave her side. His lips moved down the creamy white of her throat to the warm valley between her breasts, where he planted long, moist kisses against her silky skin.

"You're frightening me."

"Don't be afraid," he whispered. "I would never hurt you."

One part of her wanted him to keep doing exactly what he was about. The throbbing in her breasts, with his lips only inches away, was unbearable. For some strange reason, she wanted to beg him to nuzzle under the fabric of her gown, to place his lips on her nipples. Some secret feminine part of her seemed to know that, by doing so, he could ease the painful agony he was causing, but her mind continued to shout that she must stop.

She twisted again, trying to move so his lips were no longer touching her in such an intimate fashion. "Please, Wessington . . ."

It took several moments for the reality of what Jane was saying and doing to sink in. All Phillip knew was that he was hot and hard with desire; he wanted to have this woman, to bury himself deep within her right here on the sofa. The need to absorb some of her freshness, some of her spontaneity, some of her innocence was simply too overwhelming. Something wonderful, something extraordinary seemed to be beckoning. If he could only hold her close enough, he might find out what it was. But, as she continued her efforts to squirm away, better sense eventually prevailed.

While he wanted to burst between her thighs and ease the terrible ache between his own, he knew he couldn't. She was looking up at him, her eyes a mixture of awe, fear and surprise. More slowly than he should have, he pulled his hand from beneath her gown, making sure he fully caressed each breast one last time. Immediately, she clutched the front together.

God, she was lovely, with her swollen, rosy lips, her aroused breasts heaving against the thin fabric, her hair tousled and fanned out beneath him. "You're very beautiful, Jane."

"Whatever must you think of me!" she admitted with a quiver in her voice. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Still lying pressed against her from forehead to toes, he ran a gentle hand up and down her spine.

"Is it always like this when you . . . when you . .. ?" Not knowing how to address such an intimate topic, she couldn't find the words to finish her question, so he finished it for her.

"No. It's rarely like this. This was special. Which makes me think we will suit just fine."

His decision made, he slid off the couch to the floor, kneeling beside her and helping her sit up. Keeping her hands wrapped in his, he said, "I cannot promise you undying love and devotion, simply because we've not known each other long enough for such powerful feelings to grow between us, but I can promise to always honor and respect you. I will be a good husband to you, and I hope, in time, that friendship, trust and respect will grace our relationship." Phillip didnat think any of these things were possible to achieve through the wedded state, but necessity caused the lies to roll easily off his tongue. "Jane, will you do me the great honor of accepting my hand in marriage?"

It was simply impossible to remain unmoved by the sight of this handsome man kneeling in front of her, proposing marriage. What woman on the whole of the Earth could have resisted? "Yes, I suppose I will."

"Good." He gently kissed her forehead. "We'll meet with Thumberton in the morning to sign the papers. The wedding will be done before the end of the month. Will that be acceptable?"

Jane's mind was in a whirl. She could hardly think, hardly plan. "Yes," she finally responded, "yes, I guess that will be acceptable."

He stood and helped her to her feet. "I'd best get going before your friend returns."

Jane flinched. In the passion of the last few minutes, she'd completely forgotten Elizabeth. Thank heavens, she'd not returned early. Now that sanity had reasserted itself, Jane could once again act like the gently reared woman she was. "Would you like a few coins, Lord Wessington? For the ride home?"

"Perhaps." He smiled as she found her purse and handed over the contents. "Although, I must admit I feel as if a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I might prefer to walk in the crisp night air."

Jane escorted him down the stairs to the front door. It was cold in the lower rooms, away from the fire and the heat of Phillip's body. In the foyer, she helped him into his cloak and gloves, wondering at the intimacy between them, and enjoying it much more than she probably should. As he donned his hat, she could feel his eyes on her, but she simply stared at his chest, wondering why her heart felt so heavy at a moment which should have been bringing her great joy.

Phillip couldn't help noticing her forlorn countenance, the sad, almost haunted look in her eyes. Once again, he felt that unusual tug at his heartstrings. Where Jane was concerned, he couldn't seem to shed his need to offer comfort. He rested a finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. "You don't look very happy for a woman who's just agreed to wed." "I'm happy enough, I expect."

She looked thoroughly miserable, which made Phillip want to laugh aloud. Women all over England would give anything to be in her shoes. For over a decade, hordes of mothers had thrown their unwed daughters at him, hoping to marry their girls into the title of countess. Every woman he met, from Margaret on, dreamed of the possibility of this moment. Now, he'd finally asked a female to marry, and she looked as though she'd rather visit the barber to have a tooth pulled. "Then why the sad face?"

"I always thought I would marry for love."

"Jane ..." He was completely enchanted by her ability to honestly state her emotions. He squeezed her hand. "Love is a fleeting emotion which fades in time. Trust me on this. For a marriage to last, a person needs to rely on other, stronger, more dependable traits."