or one blessed second, Emma thought she was hallucinating. There was simply no way this green-eyed devil could have

come to be standing in her bedroom. And she had bumped her head rather soundly that afternoon. She'd heard that such accidents did strange things to one's mind. Then the duke of Ashbourne bestowed upon her a devilish smile and seated

himself in her easy chair.

That was when Emma knew he must be real. No hallucination of hers would behave so abominably. Her breath caught in

her throat and she suddenly felt very sick to her stomach. Dear Lord, her relatives had spent the last month teaching her the

ins and outs of London society, but no one had told her what to do if she discovered a gentleman—no, a rogue—in her

bedroom. Emma knew she should say something, scream even, but not a sound passed through her lips.

And then Emma suddenly realized that she was still stretched across her bed in a very compromising position. Glancing up,

she quickly realized that the duke had also noticed. His hot gaze seemed to burn into her skin, and Emma felt herself pinken

with embarrassment. She hastily pulled herself upright, clutching a pillow to her chest, eager to shield herself from Alex's eyes.

"Pity," he remarked sardonically.

Emma's eyes flew to his. She still didn't speak, not quite trusting her voice.

He answered the question he saw in her eyes. "Not many women have breasts as lovely as yours. Tis a pity to cover them up."

That only made Emma clutch the pillow even tighter. Alex chuckled at her modesty. "Besides," he continued, "you're not hiding from me anything you haven't just shown to all of London."

Except they weren't sitting in my bedroom, Emma thought angrily.

"Really, Meg, or should I say Emma? You can't convince me you're mute. I saw a fair piece of your temper earlier this

afternoon. Surely you must have something to say?"

Emma said the first thing that came into her mind. "I think I'm going to vomit."

That comment took Alex completely off guard, and he half rose out of his chair. Emma feared she might actually laugh

at the look of utter panic she saw on his face. "Good Lord," he exclaimed, scanning the room for some kind of receptacle.

Not finding one, he looked back to the woman on the bed. "Do you mean it?"

"No. Although your presence does unsettle my stomach."

Alex was once again taken aback. The American chit had succeeded in completely flustering him— no mean feat. He ought

to throttle her for her impudence, but she looked so damned innocent and appealing sitting on the bed with the pillow clutched

to her chest that he could only laugh. "Women have told me that I make them feel a number of things," he drawled,

"but nausea was never one of them."

Emma ignored his comment. "What on earth are you doing here?" she finally asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Alex's green eyes twinkled as he leaned forward. "I came to find you."

"Me?" Emma squeaked, hoping there had been some mistake. "You don't even know me."

"You're right," Alex mused. "But I did meet a kitchen wench this afternoon who looked remarkably like you. Red hair, violet

eyes. Do you by chance have an identical twin?" He smiled dangerously. "She was nothing like you in temperament, however.

A lusty wench, she was. Could barely keep her hands off of me—and kissed me in the most unspeakable places."

"I did not!" Emma roared. "How dare you even suggest it!"

Alex merely raised a single eyebrow at her outburst. "So you do admit that you were in my coach this afternoon?"

"You know I was. There is no use denying it."

"Indeed," Alex agreed, leaning comfortably back into the chair.

"Make yourself right at home."

Alex paid no attention to her sarcasm. "Thank you. You're very kind. And now," he commanded, "I would like a full

explanation of how you came to be wearing servant's clothes and traipsing around London unescorted."

"What?!" Emma shrieked, outraged.

"I'm waiting for your explanation." His voice was deadly patient.

"Well, you're not going to get one, you highhanded louse," she said bitterly.

"You're very lovely when you're angry, Emma."

"Must you always say such outrageous things?"

Alex placed his hands behind his head and leaned back, as if he were pondering her angry question. "Actually, I've

always prided myself on being slightly outrageous."

"I'll just bet you have," she muttered.

"What was that?"

Emma decided to try another tactic. "I think you're acting more than slightly outrageous. I may be from the United States,

but even I know this is not at all the thing." Emma sighed as she assessed her predicament. "Are you determined to ruin me?

I'm trying so hard to make my uncle and aunt proud of me."

Alex felt a twinge of guilt at his behavior when he saw Emma's wistful expression. Her violet eyes glowed softly with unshed tears, and her hair seemed to shimmer like fire beneath the flickering glow of the candle. Tenderness washed over him, and he fought the need to hold her in his arms. He wanted to soothe her, protect her, not ruin her. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he'd come up here in the first place.

But he knew he had to fight this strange tenderness toward the American girl. He'd yet to meet a marriageable young miss who could see beyond his title or his wealth. If he let himself feel anything for Emma, he knew he'd only get hurt. And somehow he instinctively knew that she had the power to wound him more deeply than any other.

And so he steeled his heart and sharpened his tongue. "I'm sure your aunt and uncle are most proud," he said, his voice laden

with sarcasm. ''You had half the ton—the male half, that is—positively drooling over you. I'm sure you can expect half a

dozen offers before the month is finished. You should be able to catch yourself quite a nice title."

Emma flinched visibly at his verbal assault. "How can you say such cruel things? You don't even know me."

"You're a woman," he said simply.

"What has that got to do with anything?"

Alex noticed that, in her ire, Emma had thrown the pillow aside. Her skin flushed pink with anger, and her chest rose and fell

with each deep breath she took. Alex thought she looked delectable but fought to keep his desire in check. "Women," he

explained patiently, "spend the first eighteen to twenty-one years of their lives sharpening their social skills. And when they

think they're ready, they go out into the world, attend a few parties, bat their eyelashes, smile prettily, and catch a husband.

The higher the title and the more money the better. And half the time, the poor fellow doesn't even know what hit him."

Emma was obviously appalled, for her horror showed clearly on her face. "I cannot believe you just said that."

"Insulted?"

"Completely."

"You shouldn't be. It's the way of things. There's nothing you or I can do about it."

Emma suddenly felt her anger dissolve into pity. What on earth had happened to this man that had made him so hard,

so cruel? "Haven't you ever loved anyone?" she asked quietly.

Alex looked up sharply at her soft question and was surprised to see true concern in her eyes. "And have you loved so

many that you're an expert?" he countered in an equally soft voice.

"Not like that," Emma said pointedly. "But I will. Someday, I will. And until then, I have my father, and Uncle Henry and Aunt Caroline, and Belle and Ned. I couldn't ask for a more wonderful family, and I love them all dearly. There's absolutely nothing

I wouldn't do for them."

Alex found himself wishing he were included in that privileged group.

"I know you have a family," Emma continued, remembering her encounter with his sister. "Don't you love them?"

"Yes, I do." Alex's expression softened for the first time that evening, and Emma couldn't miss the love in his eyes when he thought of his family. He chuckled. "Maybe you are correct. It seems that there are a few women in the world who are

worthy of love. Unfortunately, I seem to be rather closely related to all of them."

"I think you're frightened," Emma said daringly.

"I hope you intend to explain that comment."

"You're scared. It's far easier to shut yourself off from people than to love them. If you keep your heart surrounded by strong walls, no one can get close enough to you to break it. Don't you agree?" Emma looked up into his eyes and was startled by his intent gaze. Cursing herself for a coward, she looked away. "You... see..." she stammered, fighting to keep the courage she needed to speak to him in such a forward manner. "I can tell that you're not a bad person. You obviously care for your family very deeply, so you must be capable of love. You're just afraid to make yourself vulnerable."

Alex was stunned by both her soft lecture and its discomforting accuracy. Her quiet words made him extremely uneasy.

Didn't she realize that her tender words could tear through his armor far more effectively than any sword? Suddenly uncomfortable, he decided to change the subject before she had another chance to unsettle him.

"You still haven't told me why you were out and about dressed as a servant this afternoon," he said abruptly.

Emma was startled by the sudden turn in the conversation, and the sharpness of his voice roused her ire once again.

"Whyever would I explain my actions to you?"

"Because I insist that you do so."

"What? You must be joking!" Emma spluttered. "You overbearing, arrogant, unscrupulous—"

"Once again," Alex cut in smoothly, "I find myself in admiration of your vast vocabulary."

"There are quite a few more where those came from," Emma said between clenched teeth.

"I don't doubt it for an instant."

"Why, you insufferable, odious—"

"Here we go again."

"—PIG!" Emma clapped her hand to her face as she realized what she just said, and she started to shake silently with

laughter. She simply couldn't help herself. Sitting on her soft white quilt in a most unladylike manner, she hugged her bent

legs to herself and bowed her head as she laughed. Her body rocked uncontrollably as she tried to contain her mirth. The

complete ludicrousness of her situation had suddenly been brought home to her, and though she knew she ought to do

something like swoon, she simply could not help but be utterly amused.

Alex regarded Emma's laughter with surprise. That a woman could actually find humor in her compromising position—it was inconceivable! But he soon found that her mirth was infectious. His rich chuckle joined her silent laughter as he watched her

pale, delicate shoulders rise and fall with each giggle.

Alex's chuckles proved to be Emma's undoing, and she exploded into loud, throaty laughter. Unable to keep a tight rein on

her shaking body any longer, she acted just as she would have done if it had been Belle in the room instead of the duke of Ashbourne, and she flopped out onto her back, legs hanging over the side of the bed.

Alex watched her with fascination. Spread out on the bed, with her flaming hair fanned out against the pale sheets, she

seemed not to notice him. Lost in her laughter, she was primitive and without artifice, completely oblivious to his hungry gaze.

He thought she was magnificent.

How was he ever going to keep his hands off of her?

"Oh my," Emma gasped, finally emerging from her fit of laughter. She fought for breath, trying desperately to contain herself.

She placed one hand on her heaving chest as she regained control. "Whatever must you think of me?"

"I think," Alex paused as he crossed the room in quick strides and perched himself at the foot of her bed, "that you are beautiful."

Emma pulled her legs back onto the bed and shrank back against the headboard. His silken voice melted her limbs, and she was terrified by her reaction to him. She had to put as much room as possible between herself and the dangerously handsome man

who had snuck into her bedroom. "Beauty is only skin deep," she quipped, trying to relieve the tension that hung in the air.

"Very astute," Alex said with a nod. "Allow me to rephrase myself. I think that you are splendid."

Joy shot through Emma like ten thousand tiny flames, and her body tingled with strange, unfamiliar feelings. All she knew

was that Alex's presence affected her in ways she did not understand, and she was frightened.

Alex caught her timid gaze. "My dear Emma," he began.

Emma suddenly felt the need to assert herself and regain some self-confidence, which he had washed

away. She straightened her back with false bravado. "I am certainly not your dear Emma," she said primly.

"Really? Then whose dear Emma are you?"

"What an absurd question."

"Not at all. Because"—he caught her unshod foot and began to massage it—"if you don't belong to anyone else yet,

I think I might make you mine."

Emma gasped as his hands continued to knead the muscles in her foot. She had never dreamed that a touch to her foot could

send sensations up to her stomach, she thought frantically as she pulled her leg to escape his grasp. Her struggles only strengthened his resolve and his strong, tanned hands moved upward under the hem of her skirt to her calf. Emma

unconsciously wet her lips as delicious spasms of pleasure shot up her leg.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Alex grinned.

"No, I don't think I like it at all," was her strangled reply.

"Oh?" Alex asked innocently. "Then I'll just have to try harder." His hands lazily moved upward until he was touching the

soft flesh just above her knee. "Do you like that?" At her dazed expression, he continued. "No? Perhaps then a kiss."

Before Emma had any chance to react, he tugged her feet and pulled her down so she that was lying on her back. He

stretched out beside her, the hard length of his body pressing into her side. Cupping her chin with his strong hand, he pulled

her face to his and his lips gently met hers.

"No," Emma whispered weakly. She didn't understand how this man came to be in her bedroom or how he came to be

lying on her bed, but most of all, she didn't understand why her body suddenly felt like it was about to go up in flames.

"Just one kiss," Alex moaned against her mouth, his voice thick with desire. "If you say no after one kiss, I'll stop. I promise."

Emma didn't say a thing, simply letting her eyelids flutter shut as his tongue traced the outline of her lips. That delicate touch proved to be Emma's undoing, and her body responded shamelessly. She snaked her arms around the back of his neck and pressed her hips instinctively into his. Moaning slightly, she parted her lips, barely conscious of her own movements.

Alex took full advantage of her reaction and pressed his tongue into her mouth immediately, searching its inner depths. "God, you're sweet," he murmured huskily. He plunged back into her mouth, pressing and probing. Emma met this intimate caress

with an ardor she had never dreamed she possessed, one hand grasping at the silken fullness of his thick hair, the other

roaming over the hard muscles of his back.

Alex groaned as her touch ignited him. His mouth never leaving hers, he moved and covered her body with his own, pressing

it hotly into the mattress. Emma moaned passionately at this new intimacy, and the sound increased his ardor. "Who'd have thought such a little thing would be so passionate?" he murmured as his lips softly trailed down her soft, white neck.

Emma shivered with desire. "What are you doing to me?" she asked huskily.

Alex's chuckle came from deep in his throat as his lips returned to hers. "I'm making love to you, my sweet. And you feel

like you do—" His hand snaked up to close over her breast, and Emma gasped at the stark heat that poured through the

satin of her dress and burned her skin. "—because you want me every bit as much as I want you."

'That's not true," Emma said shakily, but she knew she was lying even as the words tumbled from her mouth.

Alex's lips moved across her face to nibble on her earlobe. "Ah, my dear Emma, have they turned you into a prim English

miss already?"

Emma could feel his warm breath in her ear as he spoke, but nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of desire she

felt when his tongue suddenly darted out and began to caress her. "Ahh," she sighed, unable to prevent herself from murmuring her pleasure.

Alex only grinned. "Don't be ashamed of what you're feeling, Emma. Never feel ashamed. It's completely natural. There is nothing bad or evil about it, regardless of what society matrons may say."

"I wasn't exactly told such feelings were bad in and of themselves." Emma's voice shook. "I was just told they were bad

unless you were married."

Alex grimaced at the M word, and his desire receded slightly. "I wouldn't look to me for marriage, if I were you," he chided

her gently.

"I wasn't!" Emma retorted, pulling away from him.

"Good!"

"I would never marry you."

"That's very convenient for you because I don't recall asking you to."

Emma fumed. "I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth!" She paused for a second as she pondered what was clearly an overused cliche. "Well, maybe if you were the last man on earth, but only then!"

Alex decided he loved her obvious common sense.

"But seeing as how you're not the last man on earth," Emma continued, "which is more than obvious considering the fact that

I've got a whole ballroom full of eligible bachelors just downstairs—"

Alex's mouth quickly drew together in a grim line.

"—I think you should leave right now."

"I disagree."

"I don't care."

"We seem to be at a standstill here." Alex drawled. "I wonder who will win."

"I haven't any doubt of the outcome," Emma said bravely. "Get out of my room!"

Alex raised his eyebrows at Emma's ire. His seeming indifference only served to inflame her further. "Now!" she exploded.

Alex rose to his feet and straightened his coat. "If there's one thing I've learned," he commented caustically, "it's never to

argue with a screaming woman."

Emma immediately pouted. "I wasn't screaming. I never scream."

"Oh?"

"I was merely raising my voice."

"For your sake, I hope you weren't screaming," Alex said, "because the last thing we need is your family rushing in.

Especially now that we've clearly established our lack of desire to be married to one another."

"Oh, damn," Emma sighed.

"Such language," Alex chided, and then he realized he sounded just like his sister.

"Oh, do be quiet. The last thing I need is a lecture from you." Emma sprang to her feet and smoothed the violet folds of her

dress with her hands. "Do I look presentable?" she asked, her eyes wide with need for reassurance. "I don't want to

embarrass my family."

"Quite frankly, you look like you've just been kissed. And rather soundly, too."

Emma groaned as she rushed to her mirror to inspect the damage. Alex was right. Her face was flushed and tendrils of hair

had escaped her barrette and floated seductively around her face. "Well, at least it shouldn't be too difficult to fix my hair.

Meg tried absolutely forever to get it to conform to the latest styles, but I finally managed to convince her that this was

simpler, more comfortable, and more flattering."

"Don't tell me you actually have a maid named Meg."

"Yes, well, it's difficult to be overly creative when one has just gotten oneself whacked in the head." Emma struggled

valiantly to contain her thick hair in the barrette.

"Allow me," Alex purred as he moved to stand behind her. Emma was shocked when he picked up her hairbrush and

began to stroke her hair softly, sweeping it up atop her head.

"I won't even ask where you learned to dress hair."

"You probably shouldn't."

"You have scores of mistresses, I'm sure."

"You've been gossiping about me," he accused.

"Only a little," she admitted.

"How unfair of you. I didn't even know your true name." Alex plucked the barrette from Emma's fingers and deftly secured

her hair into place.

"Well, now you do," Emma commented, unable to think of anything more interesting to say.

"So I do," Alex replied, for much the same reason.

The two of them paused, simply watching the other tentatively. Emma finally broke the silence. "But you mustn't act as

if you know me. I wouldn't want anyone to suspect anything untoward."

"Of course. Although you can be sure that I will seek out a proper introduction as soon as possible. And then you'll have

a fine time avoiding me."

"Not for want of trying, I'm sure." The insulting words rumbled out before Emma could stop them, but Alex only laughed softly.

"You do have a charming wit, my dear Emma." His head quickly swooped down as he placed a quick kiss on Emma's

surprised lips. "Now go on and return to your ball. I won't follow you for at least a quarter of an hour."

Emma rushed to the door, opened it, and slipped into the hallway. Pausing briefly, she stuck her head back into her bedroom. "Promise?"

Alex chuckled. "Promise."