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allowed him to throw it over her head. She pushed her arms into the voluminous sleeves while he stepped into his buckskins. She watched him throw on his flowered waistcoat, marvelling at the way it accentuated the firm muscles of his stomach and arms. He reached down to pull her to her feet.
    ‘I am taking you to bed, my love, but you will recall that the passages between here and the bedroom are unheated and I would not have you catch a chill.’
    She could not resist reaching out and resting her hand against his naked chest.
    ‘Will you not feel the cold?’
    ‘No.’ He swept her up into his arms. ‘I shall have you next to my heart.’
    He lowered his head to give her a fierce, savage kiss full of triumph and possession. Her body still glowing from their union, Rose wound her arms about his neck as he carried her to the bedroom.
     
    A cold, rosy dawn illuminated the window. Rose stretched, feeling the warmth of Lawrence’s sleeping form against her back. Her body felt wonderfully full, satisfied, and she could not help smiling into the semi-darkness. Their lovemaking in the bedroom had been even better than that first, astonishing coupling in front of the fire. Lawrence had proved himself an expert lover—she should not have been surprised, given his reputation, but his gentleness and the way he had sought to put her pleasure before his own had been a revelation.
    It would make parting all the more difficult.
    Rose eased herself away from his sleeping form and out of the bed. The discarded shirt and breeches on the floor brought back memories that sent a delightful shiver down her spine, but it also reminded her that they had left several telltale garments strewn across the drawing room. She reached for Sir Lawrence’s brightly coloured dressing gown. She must go to her own room and dress. Then she could send Evans out to check on the state of the track.
     
    When Lawrence awoke he was immediately aware of a feeling of well-being. The early-morning sun was pouring into the room, battering his eyelids. He did not want to open his eyes. He wanted to—
    He turned over, but his hands found only cold empty sheets. Had he dreamed last night’s events? His body told him not.
    Lawrence sat up, blinking. His clothes were still on the floor, but his banyan was gone. Quickly he grabbed his clothes and scrambled into them, buttoning his coat even as he made his way to the guest room. It wasempty. With a growing sense of unease he ran down the stairs to the drawing room.
    Rose was standing by the window, fully dressed, her travelling cloak folded over a chair, gloves and bonnet resting neatly on the top. She turned as he came in, but the sunlight was behind her and he could not see her face.
    ‘You are up betimes.’ He crossed the room in a couple of strides and reached for her. She stepped away from him.
    ‘I have a long ride ahead of me.’
    ‘You are going, then.’
    ‘Yes. Evans has already ventured out this morning and says the pack ponies have been on the move. We have only to make our way to the lane…’
    She reached for her gloves, but Lawrence stepped in her way, catching her hands.
    ‘Can we not talk, first? About last night…’ She would not meet his eyes and he squeezed her fingers, saying sharply, ‘It is customary to observe the civilities, you know, even with your lover.’
    A faint shake of her head sent her curls dancing.
    ‘We are not lovers. It was one night.’
    ‘But a very special night, would you not agree?’ The faint blush on her cheek gave him his answer. ‘When will I see you again?’
    ‘You will not.’
    ‘But—’
    She lifted one hand and placed her fingers against his mouth.
    ‘It is better this way. I have to go back to Mersecombe, to my son. There is no place for you in my life.’
    Lawrence frowned. Her words were calm, reasoned, but it made no sense to him.
    ‘I want to be part of your life,’ he said. ‘After last night I want to know you better—’
    ‘No!’ She