He stared at her, certain that his loins had sapped some of the energy from his brain, because he truly had no idea what she was talking about. “What does that mean?” he asked.

“I don't know. Why did you say it?”

“I didn't say it. I said, ‘genus and species.’”

“Oh.” She paused. “That would explain everything, I suppose, if I knew what it meant.”

“It means…” He looked up. She had an expectant and slightly amused expression on her face. “It's a scientific term.”

“I see,” she said slowly. “And was there any reason you were shouting it at the top of your lungs?”

“Yes,” he said, focusing on her mouth. “Yes, there was.”

“Was there?”

He took a step toward her, and then another. “Yes. You see, I was trying to keep my mind off something.”

She nervously wetted her lips and blushed. “Oh, I see.”

He moved ever closer. “But it didn't work.”

“Not even a little bit?” she squeaked.

He shook his head, so close to her now that his nose nearly brushed hers. “I still want you.” He shrugged apologetically. “I can't help it.”

She did nothing but stare at him. Robert decided that was better than an outright rejection and moved his hand to the small of her back. “I searched the door for a peephole,” he said.

She didn't look surprised when she whispered, “Did you find one?”

He shook his head. “No. But I have a very good imagination. Not”—he leaned forward and brushed the lightest of kisses onto her mouth—” as good as the real thing, I'm afraid, but it was enough to lead to my current state of extreme and prolonged discomfort.”

“Discomfort?” she echoed, her eyes growing wide and unfocused.

“Mmm-hmm.” He kissed her again, another light touch intended to arouse, not invade.

Again she made no move to pull away. Robert's hopes soared, as did his arousal. But he held his desire in check, sensing that she needed to be seduced by words as well as actions. He touched her cheek as he whispered, “May I kiss you?”

She looked startled that he'd asked. “You just did.”

He smiled lazily. “Technically I suppose that this”—he brushed another of those feather light kisses across her mouth—” qualifies as a kiss. But what I want to do to you is so different it seems a crime against words to call them the same thing.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

Her curiosity thrilled him. “I think you know,” he said, smiling. “But just to refresh your memory…”

He slanted his mouth against hers and kissed her deeply, nibbling on her lips and exploring her with his tongue. “That is more along the lines of what I intended.”

He could sense her being swept away on the tide of his passion. Her pulse was racing and her breath was coming faster and faster. Beneath his hand he could feel her skin burning through the thin fabric of her dress. Her head fell back as he kissed her neck, trailing hot fire along the line of her throat.

She was melting. He could feel it.

His hands moved down and curved around her backside, pulling her firmly against him. There was no denying his arousal, and when she didn't move immediately away, he took it as a sign of acquiescence. “Come upstairs with me,” he whispered in her ear. “Come and let me love you now.”

She didn't quite freeze in his arms, but she did go uncommonly still.

“Victoria?” His whisper had grown harsh.

“Don't ask me to do this,” she said, turning her face away.

He cursed under his breath. “How long are you going to make me wait?”

She didn't say anything.

His grip on her tightened. “How long?”

“You're not being fair to me. You know I can't simply…It's just not right.”

He let go of her so abruptly that she stumbled. “Nothing has ever been more right, Victoria. You just don't want to see it.” He looked at her for one last hungry moment, feeling too angry and rejected to care about her anguished expression. Then he turned on his heel and left the room.

Chapter 19

Victoria had closed her eyes against his bitterness, but she couldn't close her ears. His angry footsteps pounded through the house, ending with the loud slam of his bedroom door.

She leaned against the kitchen wall. What was she so afraid of? She could no longer deny that she cared for Robert. Nothing had the power to lift her heart like one of his smiles. But letting him make love to her was so permanent. She would have to let go of that little piece of anger she'd been holding inside for so many years. At some point that anger had become a part of who she was, and nothing terrified her more than losing her sense of herself. That was all she'd been able to hold on to when she was a governess. I am Victoria Lyndon, she would tell herself after a particularly trying day. No one can ever take that from me.

Victoria covered her face with her hands and exhaled. Her eyes were still closed, but all she could see was Robert's warm expression. She could hear his voice in her mind, and he kept saying, over and over, “I love you.” And then she breathed in. Her hands smelled like him, like sandalwood and leather. It was overwhelming.

“I need to get out of here,” she muttered, then crossed the room to the door leading to the cottage's back garden. Once outside, she took a deep breath of the fresh air. She knelt in the grass and touched the flowers. “Mama,” she whispered. “Are you listening?”

Lightning didn't crash through the sky, but a sixth sense told her to turn around, and when she did she saw Robert in the window of his room. He was perched on his windowsill with his back to her. His posture looked desolate and bleak.