Robert raised an insolent brow, glancing at the clock on her bedside table. “Really now, how bad could your day possibly be at this time in the morning?”

She tried to brush past him. “I have to get to work.”

“And feed young Neville?” His hand closed around her arm, and he kicked the door shut behind him. “Not necessary. Neville has gone riding with my good friend Ramsay, who has graciously volunteered to entertain the little brat all morning.”

Victoria shut her eyes for a moment and exhaled, a rush of memory overwhelming her. He had always been so organized, always attending to the smallest of details. She should have known he'd find a way to occupy Neville if he wanted to see her alone.

When she opened her eyes he was idly examining a book on her bedside table. “No more romantic novels?” he asked, holding up the book, a rather dry discussion of the study of astronomy.

Her chin lifted a fraction of an inch. “I don't enjoy romantic novels any longer.”

Robert continued to flip through the pages of the book. “I had no idea you so enjoyed astronomy.”

Victoria swallowed, not about to tell him that the moon and stars made her feel closer to him. Or rather, closer to the person she'd thought he'd been. “My lord,” she said with a sigh. “Why are you doing this?”

He shrugged and sat on her small bed. “Doing what?”

“This!” She threw up her arms. “Coming to my room. Sitting on my bed.” She blinked, as if just realizing what he was doing. “You're on my bed. For God's sake, get off my bed.”

He smiled slowly. “Make me.”

“I am not so infantile that you can rile me with such a challenge.”

“No?” He leaned back against her pillows and crossed his ankles. “Don't worry. My boots are clean.”

Victoria's eyes narrowed, and then she picked up the basin full of water she used for washing and dumped it on his head and chest. “I take that back,” she said acidly. “I can be quite childish when the occasion warrants.”

“Good Christ, woman!” Robert sputtered, leaping off the bed. Water ran in rivulets down his face, soaking his cravat and shirt.

Victoria leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, quite pleased with her handiwork. “Do you know,” she said with a satisfied smile, “but I think that all might be right with the world after all.”

“Don't you dare,” he roared, “try a stunt like that again!”

“And do what? Impugn your honor? I wasn't aware you had any.”

He advanced on her with menacing steps. Victoria probably would have taken the cowardly way out and retreated, but her back was already up against the wall. “You,” he said savagely, “are going to be extremely sorry you did that.”

Victoria couldn't help it. She giggled. “Robert,” she said, lapsing into the familiar. “Nothing could ever make me sorry I did that. For the rest of my life I will treasure this moment. Treasure it. In fact, this may very well be the one thing I am least sorry—”

“Victoria,” he said, his voice deadly. “Shut up.”

She did, but she didn't stop smirking.

He closed the space between them until he was just a heartbeat away. “If you are going to get me wet,” he said, his voice dropping into a husky murmur, “then you are damn well going to dry me off.”

Victoria scooted to the side. “Perhaps a towel…I'd be happy to lend you mine.”

He moved so that he was right in front of her again, and touched her chin with his fingers. His body was hot, but his eyes were even hotter. “I've waited a lifetime for this,” he whispered, pressing his body against hers.

The water from his clothing soaked into Victoria's dress, but she didn't feel anything but the heat from his body. “Don't,” she whispered. “Don't do this.”

His eyes held a strange desperation. “I can't help it,” he said hoarsely. “God help me, I can't help it.”

His lips came down toward hers with agonizing slowness. He hovered for a moment when he was just a hairbreadth away, as if he was trying to hold himself back at the last moment. Then, with stunning swiftness, his hands left her arms and moved to the back of her head, binding her lips to his.

Robert planted his hands into her thick hair, unmindful of the way her hairpins were clattering to the floor. It felt just the same—silky and heavy, and the scent of it was enough to drive him wild. He murmured her name over and over, forgetting for a moment that he hated her, that she'd abandoned him years ago, that she was the reason his heart had been dead for seven long years. He relied on instinct alone, and his body could do nothing but recognize that she was his Torie, and she was in his arms, and she belonged there.

He kissed her savagely, trying to drink in enough of her essence to make up for all their lost years. His hands clutched at her, roving over her body, trying to remember and memorize each curve.

“Torie,” he murmured, trailing his lips down the line of her neck. “I've never…No other woman…”

Victoria let her head loll back, all reason having fled with the first touch of his lips. She'd thought she'd forgotten what it felt like to be held in his arms, to feel the touch of his lips on her skin.

But she hadn't. Every touch was achingly familiar and startlingly exciting. And when he lowered her onto her bed, she couldn't even think to protest.

The weight of his body pressed her into the mattress, and one of his hands wrapped around her calf, squeezing and caressing its way up past her knee.

“I'm going to love you, Torie,” Robert said fiercely. “I'm going to love you until you can't move. I'm going to love you until you can't think.” His hand traveled ever higher, reaching the hot skin of her upper thigh where her stockings ended. “I'm going to love you the way I should have before.”