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He had brought her baby back and she would never be able to repay him for that. However, she would try to be all that he wished for, and tonight was the beginning. It was nearly seven and she went to check on Sebastian one last time before she left. Raven had even thought of a screen that separated the corner from the rest of the bedchamber. His actions spoke louder than any words.
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    She had changed again . . . Changed again with the coming of the baby . . . damn, her. Harrison paced his study, brooding. Well this evening he would disabuse her of any notion that the features of their relationship had changed. Not even one degree. He had done what he had to do for Sebastian out of commonsense and this evening he would again begin his campaign to make Sebastian’s mother his sexual slave until she . . .
    “. . . Raven, this gown is beautiful.”
    Harrison turned quickly, not believing that he’d been so lost in thought that he'd not heard Rosebud entering the room. Christ, she was exquisite and the gown was a bare complement to her lush curves. How was he ever going to keep his commitment to . . .
    “Raven, I do not know how I will ever be able to repay you for everything you have done. Bringing Sebastian back to me was . . . ”
    “I did not,” Harrison rasped sharply, interrupting Rosebud as he gazed down at her. She had moved so close to him the skirts of her gown brushed the tops of his evening shoes.
    “You didn’t?” she exclaimed, appearing extremely startled as her hand clasped his forearm.
    “No, I did not. And I will be extremely interested to hear from you just who you believe had Sebastian and how they would know to deliver him here.” His gaze raked her stunning décolletage as he lowered his voice menacingly. “And how, Rosebud, they would give him up without payment if he were truly kidnapped in the first place, and in danger.”
    Rosebud immediately backed away from him, clearly upset as she clutched her arms about her small waist. “Oh, Raven,” she whispered helplessly.
    He stalked her then, stalked her until she backed into the arm of the settee and could go no further while he towered over her and he finally reached out to grasp her bare shoulders. She was trembling and she dropped her gaze to his chin. “I do not know, Raven,” she whispered, tensing for his reaction.
    “It is just as well, Rosebud,” he rasped. “For it would never do were I to become the least bit fond of you.” She gasped in reaction to this and tried to pull away from him, however he held her and he whispered roughly, “I have a need for you, Rosebud. A need for you now, this instant.”
    He fully expected her to fight him and was taken by surprise when she relaxed beneath his hands and further stepped into an embrace of her own making. Her arms circled his waist and her cheek rested on his lapel. “Yes, Raven. Anything you desire,” she murmured.
    Damn her . . . “I want you from behind,” he uttered in a harsh rasp as he grasped her buttocks through the silk of her skirts. Two lusty handfuls, then he deliberately pressed his thumb into the crease of her bottom until . . . “Here, Rosebud, I want you here.”
    She gasped once breathlessly, and shivered, clutching his biceps through the superfine material of his evening coat. Her face burrowed into the crisp linen of his shirt. “Raven, I . . .”
    “You will not deny me,” he charged, swinging her around to bend her over the arm of the settee. Instinctively, she threw her hands out to catch the bottom cushion as a brace for her palms. “Lower, Rosebud, bend over more,” he commanded as he held her hips steady from behind and gazed down at the gentle expanse of her nape.
    “If y-you wish it,” she finally murmured hesitantly, then she lowered her upper body to lean on her elbows over the armrest, raising her round silk-covered derriere upward to exactly the right position.
    “Oh I wish it, my elusive little darling,” Harrison