or all of Emma's determination to put her feminine embarrassment behind her, she still turned into a stammering fool the

minute she laid eyes on Alex again.

The evening had started out innocently enough. After Belle had managed to pry all of the details about the picnic she could

get out of Emma, the pair had decided to dress for the evening meal. Belle, however, was considerably more interested in choosing Emma's attire than her own, insisting that she wear a deep violet gown that set off her unusual eyes.

"It's the same color you wore when you made your debut," Belle explained. "And Alex was so taken with you."

"I doubt he'll remember the color of my gown," was all that Emma replied. Nevertheless, she allowed herself to be talked into

the violet silk, hoping that the bold color might bolster her courage. Belle settled on a gown of pale peach silk, which

complimented her soft pink and white complexion. When they were done dressing, Emma sacrificed herself on the altar of the hairstylist, and she allowed Meg to fuss with her tresses without the slightest complaint. After Belle's less-than-tender ministrations, Meg seemed a veritable goddess.

As Emma sat there, watching in the mirror as Meg pulled the hairbrush through her bright locks, she had ample time to consider her situation.

Did she love Alex? Belle seemed to think so. But how could she love him when that meant abandoning her lifelong dream of running Dunster Shipping? Part of Emma wanted to throw caution into the wind and grab whatever happiness she could find

with Alex. But she knew that if she let herself love him a little, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from loving him wholeheartedly, with every pore of her being. And she was terrified at the prospect of losing herself completely in that love.

As she had told Belle not even a half an hour earlier, she changed around him. One tender gaze from him seemed to banish

all rational thought, and she had to struggle just to stammer incoherent phrases. If she married Alex, she could certainly forget about ever speaking in complete sentences.

Which brought her to another sensitive point. He might not even ask her to marry him. Alex had a formidable stubborn streak,

and Emma couldn't imagine him caving in to familial pressure and asking for her hand unless he was good and ready. And

what if he did ask her? Would she say yes? Emma caught her lower lip between her teeth as she pondered her situation.

Maybe. Probably. She let out a deep sigh. Definitely. How could she help herself? Dunster Shipping would have to survive

without her because she didn't think she could survive without Alex.

But marriage to him was not a guarantee of happiness. Few marriages among the ton were based upon love, and Emma

knew that a love match had never been one of Alex's highest goals. It was highly possible that he might reach a decision to

ask her to marry him based solely on affection and lust. She could well imagine him sitting in his study with his feet propped

up on his desk, considering his situation and deciding to marry her just because nothing better was likely to come along.

What would her life be like if she were married to a man who didn't love her? Would it be enough just to be near him or would

she lose a little bit of her soul day by day until she was nothing more than a brittle shell? But God help her, she didn't know if she had any alternative because she was beginning to realize that the possibility of happiness apart from Alex was very slim, indeed. She supposed that any small piece of him would be better than nothing because it was true—she loved him. She loved him desperately and she was terrified that she might not be able to find a way to make him love her back.

Suddenly, facing him at dinner seemed a most frightening prospect.

She was fairly successful finding excuses to remain upstairs. There was a loose thread on her gown that needed mending,

and she was convinced that she had developed new freckles while she had been out of doors. Meg was immediately

dispatched to borrow a little powder from Lady Caroline. She had just about managed to develop a blistering headache

when Belle finally lost all patience and physically pushed her through the door and down the stairs.

* * *

By the time Emma and Belle arrived, Alex was already in the drawing room, leaning against a windowsill and absently

swirling a glass of whiskey. As Emma walked through the doorway, he gave her a quizzical look, scanning her features

intently. Emma did her best to appear blase, but she had a sinking feeling that she failed miserably. "Good evening, your

grace," she blurted out suddenly, painfully aware that she sounded like a bleating sheep. She wasn't sure, but she thought

she heard her cousin emit a small groan.

Alex nodded his greeting to Belle, who had strategically positioned herself on a sofa that offered an excellent view of the

entire room. After Belle smiled back at him sunnily, he focused his attention on Emma. "I trust you had a pleasant afternoon following our return," he said politely.

"It was very nice, thank you," Emma replied automatically, holding onto the back of a pale yellow chair with a death grip.

Belle watched the exchange with unconcealed interest, her head bobbing shamelessly back and forth between Emma and

Alex.

"I feel as if I'm on the stage," Emma muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" Alex inquired cordially.

"Did you say something?" Belle asked at the very same time.

Emma smiled weakly and shook her head. The tension in the room was really quite thick enough to eat.

"I believe I'll have another whiskey," Alex said.

"I have a feeling you might need it." Belle put in with an innocent smile.

"Impertinent chit." Alex smoothly crossed the room and poured himself a drink. As he made his way back to his spot at the windowsill, he brushed very closely by Emma, murmuring in her ear, "Do try not to ruin the furniture, my dear. That's one

of my mother's favorite chairs."

Emma immediately let go of the chair and practically flew over an end table in her haste to seat herself next to Belle.

When she looked up again, Alex was smiling widely.

Emma, on the other hand, was not smiling at all.

Thankfully, Sophie chose that moment to sail into the room. "Hello, everybody," she said merrily, glancing quickly around the

room. "I see that Mother hasn't arrived yet. Hmmm, what a surprise. I would have thought she'd be most anxious to inquire

about your ride this afternoon."

"I would have thought so, too," Alex said dryly.

Sophie had no response for that so she scooted across the room and seated herself in the pale yellow chair that Emma had

so recently been trying to mangle. Emma slouched a little, slightly deflated by Alex's caustic comment.

"Cleopatra had her kittens," Sophie announced with a smile. "Charlie was thrilled. He's been talking of nothing else all evening. Unfortunately, now he insists upon asking me all sorts of, well, sensitive questions, which I do not feel at all prepared to

discuss with a six-year-old boy." She sighed sadly. "I do wish Oliver would return home soon."

"I am certain Alex will be able to aid you in the sensitive question department," Emma said peevishly, regretting her words the moment they flew out of her mouth.

Belle made a strange sound that was half laugh and half snort and then started to cough. Emma fought a strong urge to whack

her soundly on the back.

Alex continued to lean against the windowsill, his expression inscrutable, and Emma wanted to curse him for looking so devastatingly handsome without even trying. He appeared to be quite fascinated with his perfectly manicured fingernails.

The truth, however, was that he was deathly afraid he'd burst out laughing if he allowed himself to look at Emma. She would never forgive him for that, he knew. There was something so comically adorable about her as she sat there on the couch, absolutely seething. He sensed that there was nothing that irritated her more than watching him appear in complete control of himself while her emotions were churning. He wasn't cruel; he just preferred to see her spitting mad than forlorn and guilt-ridden as she had been that afternoon. He brushed an invisible piece of lint off of his waistcoat and stole a quick glance at Emma. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw her take a deep breath and exhale it slowly.

He couldn't resist.

"I trust your stay at Westonbirt has been pleasurable thus far, Emma." He was surely going to spend a year in hell for that comment, but it was worth it.

"Just fine," she bit out, refusing to look at him.

"Only just fine?" he said, his face a perfect mask of solicitousness. "We have not been doing our jobs properly then.

What else can we do to entertain you?"

"I am certain there is nothing you can do," she said pointedly.

Belle's mouth was hanging open.

"Now, that cannot be true," Alex returned. "I shall simply have to try harder. Why don't we go for another ride tomorrow afternoon? There is much I haven't shown you."

He thought Belle was going to fall off the sofa.

"That won't be necessary, your grace," Emma said stiffly.

"But—"

"I said it won't be necessary!" she burst out. Then, realizing that everyone was looking at her most oddly, she added,

"I have a bit of a sniffle." She sniffed a bit to demonstrate but of course sounded perfectly clear. Smiling weakly, she

folded her hands in her lap and resolved to say nothing else.

Sophie leapt into the silence. "Er, Belle," she said awkwardly. "Why don't you take one of the kittens back with you? I have

no idea what we'll do with the lot of them."

"I doubt that my mother will agree," Belle replied. "The last cat was an unmitigated disaster. It had a bit of a flea problem,

you see."

"I don't think our kittens have been alive long enough to have gotten fleas," Sophie mused.

"Nonetheless, I imagine my mother will feel quite strongly about it."

"What will I feel quite strongly about?" Caroline asked loudly from the doorway.

"Sophie is trying to convince us to take home one of Cleopatra's kittens," Belle explained.

"Heavens, no!" Caroline replied emphatically. "You may have one out in the country but never again in London." She entered

the room, nodding her hello to Alex and then took a seat near Emma, Belle, and Sophie. Henry, who had followed her downstairs, took one look at the collection of women in the corner and headed straight over to Alex.

"Whiskey?" Alex inquired, holding up his glass.

"Don't mind if I do," Henry replied affably, raising a hand to stop Alex from getting up. He quickly crossed the room, poured himself a drink, and returned to Alex's side. "I have a feeling we'll need these this evening," he remarked.

"Strangely enough, that's exactly what your daughter said not five minutes earlier."

"How was your ride this afternoon, my dear?" Caroline asked Emma, loudly enough for all to hear.

"It was very nice, thank you."

Alex thought her reply was very weak, indeed. "I had a brilliant time." he boomed.

"I am sure you did," Emma said, mostly to herself, trying to forget it had been she who had cried out in pleasure that

afternoon, not Alex.

"Did you say something, my dear?" Caroline asked solicitously.

"No, no I didn't. I was just—er—clearing my throat."

"You seem to do that quite often." Alex couldn't resist Emma's obvious distress, so he crossed the room and took the seat

next to Caroline. Henry followed in his wake. "Or at least you do while in my presence."

Emma glared at Alex so ferociously that Sophie could not help murmuring a soft, "Oh my!"

Alex sipped his whiskey serenely, appearing completely unaffected by Emma's ire.

Which, of course, only served to make her even more irate.

At that point, Alex cracked a smile.

"Well!" Caroline declared, only to break the silence. Much to her dismay, however, everybody immediately stared at her and

then she had to say something more. "Do tell us more about your afternoon, Emma dear." It seemed to be a popular topic.

"Well, actually—," Emma started, her irritation beginning to get the better of her.

Belle's foot slammed into her shin. Emma gulped with pain, smiled weakly, and replied, "It was lovely, thank you."

Silence fell again, and this time nobody, not even Caroline, was brave enough to break it.

Emma stared down at her lap, her fingers idly plucking at her skirts. She could feel Alex's eyes resting on her, and much as

she tried, she could not summon the courage to meet his gaze. As she sat in stony silence, she had to admit that it was herself

with whom she was angry, not Alex.

She knew that she was intensely attracted to Alex. But to admit that fact to the gentleman in question somehow seemed to go against every tenet of her upbringing, and it was difficult to turn her back on the set of morals that her father and her aunt and uncle had instilled in her. She was in a fine mess now, wanting him so badly and knowing that she shouldn't allow herself to

have him. She could justify her desire by the fact that she loved him, but she somehow had to find the willpower to stop herself from acting on that desire.

It would all be different if he loved her even just a tiny bit as much as she loved him.

Or, Emma thought despondently, if he merely proposed. Marriage to Alex without mutual love was preferable to not having

him at all. She looked over at him. He had gone back to examining his fingernails and did not look even remotely like a man

who was about to ask a woman to marry him. Emma swallowed and sank back further into the sofa.

* * *

"Goodness! It sounds as if we've had a funeral in here. Have you all lost your powers of speech?" Eugenia stood in the

doorway of the drawing room, clad in an elegant gown of green silk.

"Actually, Mother, I think everyone is somewhat afraid to open his—or her—mouth." Alex smiled widely at his mother as

he rose to give her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

Eugenia looked at her son accusingly. "You haven't been brutalizing our guests, have you?"

"Only me," Emma chirped bravely, causing her aunt to shoot her a remonstrating look.

Alex chuckled, delighted at Emma's barb. "Perhaps I could escort you to supper, Miss Dunster," he said graciously, walking

over to her and extending his arm.

"Of course," Emma murmured. What else could she do with such an avid group of onlookers? Smiling prettily at her audience,

she rose and tried to take a step toward the door, but Alex's iron grip held her firmly in place.

"I believe we'll bring up the rear," he stated, a little too obviously.

"If none of you mind," Emma hastened to add, feeling her cheeks pinken.

"Oh no, we don't mind at all," Eugenia exclaimed, practically hauling her daughter out of the room.

Within seconds the room had been vacated.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" Emma burst out, wrenching herself from his grasp.

"Do what?" he asked innocently.

"I trust your stay has been pleasurable, Emma," she mimicked, imitating his tone perfectly.

"Oh, come now, Emma. You cannot begrudge me a bit of fun."

"Not at my expense. I was mortified."

"Don't be so angry, love. You know I was only teasing you."

"I know no such thing. It seemed to me that you were merely having a bit of revenge because you didn't get what you wanted

this afternoon."

Unable to bear the broken look in her eyes, Alex took her by the shoulders and pulled her against him. "Oh, darling, I'm sorry,"

he murmured. "I never meant to make you feel that way. Believe me, I got exactly what I wanted this afternoon."

"But—"

"Hush." He placed his forefinger on her lips. "All I wanted was to make you happy, and it seems all I've managed is to make

you sad. I was teasing you just now because if I can't have happy, then angry at least is better than sad."

"Well, I'd prefer you didn't resort to such tactics again," she mumbled into his chest.

Alex dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I promise. Now then..." He searched for a new topic. "Have you ever seen a room

empty out so quickly? It seems that I was not the only one desirous of a private meeting between the two of us. I'd be willing

to wager that my mother made it to the dining room in under ten seconds."

"I've certainly never seen my aunt move so quickly before," Emma returned with a wobbly smile. "And I thought Uncle

Henry was going to take Belle by her hair."

"Funny, but I'd have thought him above this."

"You must be joking. Aunt Caroline can be quite formidable when she's in a temper. He wouldn't want to provoke her. He's

much too fond of his peaceful existence. Besides, everyone is most anxious to see me settled. Not," Emma said quickly, "that we—I have any plans to settle down soon. I have a business to run back in Boston, you know." She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach even as she spoke the words. Hadn't she just decided that Alex was far more important to her than Dunster Shipping? "You shouldn't allow yourself to feel pressured, you know."

Alex looked down at her with a strange expression on his face.

"Although I imagine one would find it difficult to pressure you into anything," Emma continued, looking slightly forlorn.

Alex smiled wryly, wondering how much pressure would actually be required at this point to get him to settle down. "Are you feeling better?" he asked simply.

Emma kept her eyes downcast. "I made quite a spectacle of myself, didn't I?"

"To which spectacle are you referring?". She blushed at his obvious reference to her passionate behavior. "Actually, I was referring to my rather acute embarrassment after the fact." She paused, forcing herself to look into his eyes. "I think I overreacted," she said softly. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't upset you."

She looked up at him, her violet eyes wide with trust. At that moment, something inside Alex melted. He couldn't believe that

she was apologizing to him for her embarrassment over their lovemaking earlier that afternoon. Proper young ladies were

taught that any kind of premarital intimacy was akin to eternal damnation, and now that Alex no longer felt as if his body

were about to explode, he was really quite impressed that Emma hadn't taken to her bed for a week.

"It's quite natural to feel confused by a new experience," he said, feeling that he ought to say something to comfort her.

"Thank you for being so understanding," Emma said, a faint smile touching her features. "Although I do think it would be wise

if we restrained ourselves for the time being." At Alex's raised eyebrow, she explained, "I really cannot describe how awful

I felt this afternoon."

"Guilt?"

'That, and confusion, too." Emma turned away and idly examined a small clock that sat on an end table. She was proud of

herself for being so honest with Alex, but all the same, such plain speaking was somewhat disconcerting.

"I wish you wouldn't feel that way."

"I wish I wouldn't, too," Emma replied, still directing her words to the clock. "But I'm afraid that I can't control my emotions

very well, and I would rather avoid the state of turmoil I was in earlier today."

"Emma?" And then when she didn't respond, Alex said it louder. "Emma?"

Emma turned around quickly, her bright hair settling about her face in soft waves.

Alex touched his fingers to her chin, tilting her face upward so that he could peer into the soft violet depths of her eyes.

"I'm still going to try to kiss you, you know."

"I know."

He leaned in closer. "On every possible occasion."

"I know."

His lips were nearly touching hers. "I'm going to try right now."

Emma sighed, caught in the sensual web of his voice. "I know."

"Are you going to stop me?" he murmured against her mouth.

"No." Emma's soft reply was lost as Alex's mouth slanted over hers. Heat poured from his lips, and Emma simply closed

her eyes, losing herself in the warmth of the moment.

Alex was painfully aware that he and Emma had precious few moments together. He really would not put it past his mother

to come barging into the parlor, declare Emma ravished at the sight of one kiss, and demand that he marry her on the spot.

With a groan, he tore himself away from her and took a deep breath.

"This is going to be a long weekend," he muttered, still holding her chin in his hand.

"Yes, I know," Emma said in a very strange voice.

A light smile touched Alex's face as he looked over at Emma. She seemed to be caught in a daze, and her eyes were fixed

on a point slightly to the left of Alex's elbow.

"I would love to know what is going through your mind right now," Alex said softly, brushing a wisp of hair off of Emma's forehead.

Emma shook her head slightly as she tried to refocus her eyes. "What?" She blinked a few times. "Do you promise,

not to laugh?"

"I promise nothing of the kind."

Emma blinked a few more times at that unexpected reply, and then she gazed up at his face. He was smiling at her in a rather indulgent fashion, and his green eyes glowed with the warm promise of love. "Well, I suppose I might tell you anyway," she

said softly. "I was thinking that... well, that is I was wondering..."

"Yes?"

"Actually, I was wondering how on earth I managed to remain standing when you kissed me just now." An embarrassed smile crossed Emma's features, and she looked downward, where her foot was tracing half circles in the carpet. "I felt as if I were melting."

Alex felt something unfamiliar flicker inside him, and there was no way he could deny the comforting warmth that suddenly suffused his body. He leaned over and briefly brushed his lips against hers. "You cannot imagine how happy I am to hear

you say that."

Emma was still running her slippered foot along the carpet, absurdly pleased at his words and unable to keep a wide smile

off her face. "Perhaps you could take my arm and escort me to dinner?"

"I think that could be arranged."

When Emma and Alex arrived in the dining room, their families were already seated around the long oak table. Because their party only numbered seven, Eugenia, preferring good conversation to formality, had seated everyone toward the head of the

table, leaving the other end empty.

"I took the liberty of sitting at the head of the table," Eugenia announced. "I know that propriety dictates that you sit here,

Alex, but we are an informal group, and I must admit, it prickles my pride to give up my seat to my son."

Alex raised an eyebrow as he held out a chair for Emma, shooting his mother a look that said that he did not believe a word

that flew out of her mouth.

"Besides, I rather thought that you and Emma would want to sit next to each other."

"As usual, you are very astute, Mother."

Eugenia's smile didn't waver one bit. She turned to Emma, summarily dismissing her son. "Did you have a nice time this

afternoon, my dear? Caroline tells me that you love to ride."

Emma smiled indulgently as she sat down between Belle and the empty seat that was reserved for Alex. Eugenia was the third person that evening to ask that question. The fourth, if she counted Belle, who had been a bit more direct. "I had a lovely time, thank you. Alex was a most gracious escort."

Belle started to cough. Emma shot her a withering glare and gave her a swift kick under the table.

"Really?" Eugenia breathed, enthralled by the scene taking place down the table. "Just how 'gracious' was he?"

This time it was Sophie who did the kicking, and her foot connected soundly with her mother's shin.

"I was extremely gracious, Mother," Alex said in a tone that put an end to the entire subject.

Just then Caroline let out a little yelp as Henry kicked her in the shin. "Henry!" she demanded in hushed tones.

"What on earth was that for?"

"Actually, darling," he murmured, gazing warmly into her eyes. "I was feeling left out."