y the time Victoria opened her eyes, Robert was standing in front of her. "Are they coming after you?" he demanded.

"Who?"

"Them. The women," he said, sounding very much as if he were referring to a new breed of insect.

Victoria tried to yank her arm from his grasp. "They're still drinking tea."

"Thank the Lord."

"Your aunt invited me to come live with her, by the way."

Robert muttered something under his breath.

Silence reigned for a moment, and then Victoria said, "I really must be getting home, so if you would please release my arm..." She smiled tightly, determined to be polite if it killed her.

He crossed his arms, spread his feet until they were shoulder distance apart, and said, "I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere with you, so I really don't see—"

"Victoria, do not strain my temper."

Her eyes bugged out. "What did you just say?"

"I said—"

"I heard what you said!" She smacked his shoulder with the heel of her hand. "How dare you even presume to tell me not to strain your temper. You sent a thug after me! A villain. I could have been injured."

The burly man who had grabbed her bristled. "Milord," he said, "I really must interrupt."

Robert's lips twitched. "Victoria, MacDougal objects to being called a villain. I believe you have hurt his feelings."

Victoria just stared at him, quite unable to believe the direction the conversation had taken.

"I was most gentle with her," MacDougal said.

"Victoria," Robert said. "Perhaps an apology is in order."

"An apology!" she screeched, having just been pushed a mile past her boiling point. "An apology! I think not."

Robert turned to his servant with a long-suffering expression. "I don't think she's going to apologize."

MacDougal sighed magnanimously. "The lassie has had a distressing day."

Victoria tried to figure out which one of them she wanted to punch first.

Robert said something to MacDougal, and the Scotsman quit the scene, presumably to ready the carriage waiting around the corner.

"Robert," Victoria said firmly. "I am going home."

"A fine idea. I'll escort you."

"Alone."

"Much too dangerous for a woman by herself," he said briskly, obviously trying to keep his temper in check under a facade of efficiency.

"I have managed admirably for the last few weeks, thank you very much."

"Ah yes, the last few weeks," he said, a muscle starting to twitch in his cheek. "Shall I tell you how I have spent the last few weeks?"

"I'm sure I can't prevent you from doing so."

"I spent the last few weeks in a state of sheer terror. I had no clue as to your whereabouts—"

"I can assure you," she said acerbically, "that I had no idea you were looking for me."

"Why," he bit out, "didn't you inform anyone of your plans?"

"And just whom was I supposed to tell? Lady Hollingwood? Oh, yes, we were the best of friends. You? You, who have shown such regard for my well-being?"

"What about your sister?"

"I did tell my sister. I penned her a note just last week."

Robert thought back over the past month. He had gone to see Eleanor two weeks ago. She couldn't have heard from Victoria by then. He recognized that much of his temper was due to the fact that he'd been scared out of his mind for the past few weeks, and he tried to gentle his tone. "Victoria, would you please come with me? I'll take you to my home, where we might talk in private."

She stamped on his foot. "Is this another one of your horrid, insulting offers? Oh, I'm sorry, would you prefer to call them proposals? Disgusting, degrading—"

"Victoria," he drawled, "you're going to run out of adjectives very soon."

"Oh!" she burst out, quite unable to think of anything better, then threw up her arms in exasperation. "I'm leaving."

His hand closed around the collar of her cloak, and he reeled her back in. "I believe I told you," he said coolly, "that you are not going anywhere without me." He began to drag her around the corner to his carriage.

"Robert," she hissed. "You are causing a scene."

He cocked a brow. "Do I look as if I care?"

She tried a different tactic. "Robert, just what is it you want of me?"

"Why, to marry you. I thought I'd made that clear."

"What you made clear," she said furiously, "is that you want me to be your mistress."

"That," he said firmly, "was a mistake. Now I'm asking you to be my wife."

"Very well. I refuse."

"Refusal is not an option."

She looked as if she might go for his throat at any moment. "Last time I checked, the Church of England did not perform marriages without the consent of both parties."

"Torie," he said harshly, "do you have any idea how worried I have been about you?"

"Not a bit," she said with false brightness. "But I'm tired and really would like to be getting home."

"You fell off the bloody face of the earth. My God, when Lady Hollingwood told me she'd dismissed you..."

"Yes, well, we all know whose fault that was," she snapped. "But as it happens, I am now exceedingly happy with my new life, so I suppose I should thank you."

He ignored her. "Victoria, I found out..."He stopped and cleared his throat. "I spoke to your sister."

She went white.

"I didn't know your father had tied you up. I swear I didn't."

Victoria swallowed and looked away, painfully aware of the tears pricking her eyes. "Don't make me think about that," she said, hating the choked sound of her voice. "I don't want to think about it. I'm happy now. Please, let me have a bit of stability."

"Victoria." His voice was achingly soft. "I love you. I have always loved you."

She shook her head furiously, still not trusting herself to look at his face.

"I love you," he repeated. "I want to spend my life with you."

"It's too late," she whispered.

He whirled her around. "Don't say that! We are no better than animals if we cannot learn from our mistakes and move forward."

She lifted her chin. "It isn't that. I don't want to marry you anymore." And she didn't, she realized. Part of her would always love him, but she'd found an intoxicating independence since she'd moved to London. She was finally her own woman, and she was discovering that having control over her life was a heady feeling, indeed.

He paled and whispered, "You're just saying that."

"I mean what I say, Robert. I don't want to marry you."

"You're angry," he reasoned. "You're angry, and you want to hurt me, and you have every right to feel that way."

"I'm not angry." She paused. "Well, yes, I am, but that's not why I'm refusing you."

He crossed his arms. "Why, then? Why won't you even listen to me?"

"Because I'm happy now! Is that so difficult for you to understand? I like my position and I love my independence. For the first time in seven years I am perfectly content, and I don't want to upset the balance."

"You're happy here?" He waved his hand at the storefront. "Here, as a shopgirl?"

"Yes," she said icily, "I am. I realize that this might be a bit much for your refined tastes to understand—"

"Don't be sarcastic, Torie."

"Then I suppose I cannot say anything." She clamped her mouth shut.

Robert began to pull her gently toward his waiting carriage. "I'm sure you'll be more comfortable if we can discuss this privately."

"No, you mean you'll be more comfortable."

"I mean we both will." he bit out, his temper showing signs of fraying.

She started to struggle against him, dimly aware that she was causing a scene but beyond caring about it. "If you think I'm going to get into a carriage with you..."

"Victoria, I give you my word that you will not come to harm."

"That depends on one's definition of 'harm,' don't you think?"

He abruptly let go of her and made a great show of holding his hands in the air in an unthreatening manner. "I give you my vow that I will not lay a hand upon your person."

She narrowed her eyes. "And why should I believe you?"

"Because," he growled, clearly losing patience with her, "I have never broken a promise to you."

She let out a snort, and not a particularly ladylike one at that. "Oh, please."

A muscle began to work in his throat. Honor had always been of paramount importance to Robert, and Victoria knew that she had just jabbed him right where it hurt.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and intense. "I have never broken a direct promise to you or anyone. I might not have always treated you with the"—he swallowed convulsively— "respect you deserve, but I have never broken a vow."

Victoria exhaled, knowing that he spoke the truth. "You will deliver me home?"

He nodded curtly. "Where do you live?"

She gave him her address, which he repeated to MacDougal.

He reached for her, but Victoria pulled her arm away and instead circled around him and hoisted herself into the conveyance.

Robert exhaled raggedly, resisting the urge to plant his hands on her bottom and forcibly shove her into the carriage. Damn, but she knew how to try his patience. He took another deep breath—he rather thought he would need several of them before today's journey was through— and climbed into the carriage beside her.

He took great pains to avoid touching her as he entered, but her scent was everywhere. She always managed to smell like springtime, and Robert was struck by an overwhelming sense of nostalgia and desire. He took yet another deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. Somehow he had been granted another chance at love, and he was determined not to muck things up this time.

"You wished to say?" she asked primly.

He closed his eyes for a moment. She certainly had no plans to make this easy on him. "All I wished to say is that I'm sorry."

Her eyes flew to his face in surprise. "You're sorry?" she echoed.

"For believing the worst of you. I let my father talk me into things I knew were not true."

She remained silent, forcing him to continue with his painful speech. "I knew you so well, Torie," he whispered. "I knew you like I knew myself. But when you didn't arrive at our assignation..."

"You thought I was an adventuress." she said, her voice flat.

He glanced out the window for a moment before returning his eyes to her pale, drawn face. "I didn't know what else to think," he said lamely.

"You might have remained in the district long enough to ask me what had happened," she said. "There was no need to jump to such unpleasant conclusions."

"I went to your window."

She gasped. "You did? I-I never saw you."

When Robert spoke, his voice was shaky. "Your back was to the window. You were lying in bed. You looked quite peaceful, as if you hadn't a care in the world."

"I was crying," she said in a hollow voice.

"I couldn't have known that."

A hundred emotions played across her face, and for a moment Robert was sure that she was going to lean forward and place her hand on his, but in the end she merely crossed her arms and said, "You behaved badly."

Robert forgot all his vows to control his temper. "And you didn't?" he returned.

She stiffened. "I beg your pardon."

"We are both guilty of mistrust, Victoria. You cannot lay all the blame at my door."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your sister told me what you thought of me. That I'd never intended anything more than seduction. That I had never been serious in my courtship of you." He leaned forward and stopped himself a split second before grabbing her hands with his. "Look into your heart, Victoria. You know I loved you. You know I love you still."

Victoria took a deep breath and exhaled. "I suppose I owe you an apology as well."

Robert let out a ragged sigh, exquisite relief surging through him. This time he let himself take her hands into his. "Then we can begin anew," he said fervently.

Victoria tried to tell herself to pull her hands away, but the feeling was too achingly tender. His skin was warm, and she was so tempted just to lean into his waiting embrace. It wouldn't be so dreadful to feel loved once again—to feel treasured.

She looked up at him. His blue eyes were staring at her with an intensity that both frightened and thrilled her. She felt something touch her cheek, then realized it was a tear. "Robert, I—" She stopped, realizing that she didn't know what to say.

He leaned forward, and Victoria saw that he meant to kiss her. And then, to her horror, she realized that she wanted his lips on hers. "No!" she burst out, as much for her own benefit as for his. She pulled her gaze away from him and then pulled her hands away, too.

"Victoria—"

"Stop." She sniffled and fixed her gaze on the window. "You don't understand me anymore."

"Then tell me what I need to know. Tell me what I need to do to make you happy."

"Don't you understand? You can't make me happy!"

Robert flinched, unable to believe how wounded he was by that one statement. "Would you care to explain yourself?" he said stiffly.

She let out a hollow laugh. "You gave me the moon, Robert. No, you did more than that. You picked me up and put me right on it." There was a long, painful pause, and then she said, "And then I fell. And it hurt so much when I landed. I don't want that again."

"It won't happen again. I am older and wiser now. We are both older and wiser."

"Don't you see? It has already happened twice."

"Twice?" he echoed, thinking that he very much didn't want to hear what she had to say.

"At the Hollingwoods," she said, her voice oddly flat. "When you asked me to be your—"

"Don't say it." His voice was curt.

"Don't say what? 'Mistress'? It's a fine time for you to suddenly develop scruples."

He paled. "I never knew you could be so vindictive."

"I'm not being vindictive. I'm being honest. And I didn't just fall off the moon that time. You pushed me."

Robert took a deep and ragged breath. It was not in his nature to beg, and part of him wanted desperately to defend himself. But he wanted Victoria more, and so he said, "Then let me make amends, Torie. Let me marry you and give you children. Let me spend every day of my life worshipping the ground you walk upon."

"Robert, don't." Her voice was shaky, and he knew he'd seen something flare in her eyes when he mentioned children.

"Don't what?" he tried to joke. "Worship the ground you walk upon? It's too late. I already do that."

"Don't make this so hard," she said, her voice only slightly more than a whisper.

His lips parted in amazement. "And why the hell should I not? You tell me why I should make it easy for you to walk out of my life again."

"I never walked out on you," she shot back. "You left. You."

"Neither of us is blameless. You were quick to believe the worst of me as well."

Victoria didn't say anything.

He leaned forward, his eyes intense. "I will not give up on you, Victoria. I'll haunt you day and night. I'll make you admit that you love me."

"I don't," she whispered.

The carriage came to a halt, and Robert said, "We seem to have arrived at your home."

Victoria immediately gathered up her belongings and reached for the door. But before she touched the polished wood, Robert's hand descended onto hers.

"Just one moment," he said, his voice hoarse.

"What do you want, Robert?"

"A kiss."

"No."

"Just one kiss. To get me through the night."

Victoria stared into his eyes. They were hot ice, burning straight into her soul. She licked her lips; she couldn't help it.

Robert's hand moved to the back of her head. His touch was achingly soft. If he had applied pressure or tried to force her, she knew she could have resisted. But his gentleness was disarming, and she couldn't pull away.

His lips touched hers, brushing back and forth until he felt her soften beneath him. His tongue moistened one corner of her mouth, then the other, then outlined the edge of her full lips.

Victoria thought she might melt.

But then he pulled away. His hands were shaking. Victoria looked down and realized that hers were, too.

"I know my limits," he said in a low voice.

Victoria blinked, realizing with despair that she didn't know her own. Another second of his sensual torture and she would have been on the floor of the carriage, begging him to love her. Shame colored her face and she left the carriage, letting MacDougal take her trembling hand in his to help her down. Robert followed immediately after her, and then swore viciously when he realized where he was.

Victoria didn't quite live in the worst part of town, but it came damn close. It took Robert a good ten seconds before he was calm enough to say, "Please tell me you don't live here."

She gave him an odd look and pointed to a fourth-story window. "Right there."

Robert's throat worked violently. "You... are not... going to remain here," he said, barely able to get the words out.

Victoria ignored him and began to walk toward her building. Robert had his arm around her waist within seconds. "I don't want to hear another word out of you," he barked. "You are coming home with me this instant."

"Let go of me!" Victoria struggled under his grasp, but Robert held firm.

"I will not permit you to remain in such a dangerous neighborhood."

"I can't imagine I'd be any safer with you," she retorted.

Robert softened his grip, but refused to relinquish his hold on her arm. Then he felt something on his foot and looked down.

"Bloody frigging hell!" He kicked his foot out wildly, sending a good-sized rat out into the street.

Victoria took advantage of his predicament by wrenching her arm from his grasp, and she ran to the relative safety of her building.

"Victoria!" Robert bellowed, following her. But when he yanked the door open, all he saw was a fat old lady with blackened teeth.

"And 'oo might you be?" she demanded.

"I am the earl of Macclesfield," he roared, "and get the hell out of my way."

The woman planted her hand against his chest. "Not so fast, yer lordship."

"Remove your hand from my person, if you please."

"Remove yer sorry ass from my house, if you please," she cackled. "We don't allow men in 'ere. This be a respectable house."

"Miss Lyndon," Robert bit out, "is my affianced bride."

"Didn't look that way to me. In fact, it looked like she didn't want anything to do with you."

Robert looked up and saw Victoria peering at him through a window. Rage poured through him. "I will not stand for this, Victoria!" he bellowed.

She merely shut the window.

For the first time in his life Robert truly learned the meaning of seeing red. When he'd thought Victoria had betrayed him seven years earlier, he'd been too pathetically heartbroken for this brand of fury. But now—Goddamn it, he'd been bloody frantic for more than two weeks, not knowing what the devil had happened to her. And now that he'd finally found her, not

only had she thrown his proposal of marriage back in his face, but she insisted on living in a neighborhood peopled with drunks, thieves, and whores.

And rats.

Robert watched as a street urchin picked the pocket of an unsuspecting man across the street. He exhaled raggedly. He was going to have to get Victoria out of this neighborhood, if not for her safekeeping then for the sake of his sanity.

It was a miracle she hadn't been raped or murdered already.

He turned back to the landlady just in time to see the door slam in his face and hear a key turn in the lock. He crossed the short distance to the spot just below Victoria's window and started to eye the side of the building, looking for possible footholds for his ascent to her room.

"Milord." MacDougal's voice was soft but insistent.

"If I can get my foot up to that sill, I should be able to make it all the way up," Robert growled.

"Milord, she's safe enough for the night."

Robert whirled around. "Do you have any idea what kind of neighborhood this is?"

MacDougal stiffened at his tone. "Begging your pardon, milord, but I grew up in a neighborhood like this."

Robert's face immediately softened. "Damn. I'm sorry, MacDougal, I didn't mean—"

"I know you didna." MacDougal grasped Robert's upper arm and gently began to lead him away. "Your lady needs to stew on this for an evening, milord. Leave her be for a touch. You can talk to her on the morrow."

Robert gave the building one last scowl. "Do you really think she'll be all right for the night?"

"You heard the lock on that door. She's as safe as if she were tucked away in Mayfair with you. Probably safer."

Robert gave his next scowl to MacDougal. "I'm coming after her tomorrow."

"Of course you are, milord."

Robert put his hand on the carriage and exhaled. "Am I mad, MacDougal? Am I completely, utterly, incurably mad?"

"Well, now, milord, that's not my place to say."

"How delightfully ironic that now would be the time you finally decide to exercise a bit of verbal circumspection."

MacDougal only laughed.

Victoria sat on her narrow bed and hugged her arms to her body, as if curling herself into the tiniest ball possible would make all this confusion go away.

She had finally begun to carve out a life with which she could be content. Finally! Was it so much to want a bit of stability? Of permanence? She'd had seven years of rude employers threatening her with dismissal at every turn. She'd found security at Madame Lambert's dress shop. And friendship. Madame clucked about like a mother hen, always concerned about the welfare of her employees, and Victoria adored the camaraderie among the shopgirls.

Victoria swallowed as she realized she was crying. She hadn't had a friend in years. She couldn't count the number of times she'd fallen asleep clutching Ellie's letters to her chest. But letters couldn't give a gentle pat on the arm, and letters never smiled.

And Victoria had been so very lonely.

Seven years ago Robert had been more than the love of her life. He'd been her very best friend. Now he was back, and he said he loved her. Victoria choked on a sob. Why did he have to do this now? Why couldn't he leave well enough alone?

And why did she still have to care so much? She didn't want to have anything to do with him, much less marry him, and still her heart raced with every touch. She could feel his presence across a room, and one heavy-lidded gaze had the power to make her mouth go completely dry.

And when he kissed her...

Deep in her heart, Victoria knew that Robert had the power to make her happy beyond her wildest dreams. But he also had the power to crush her heart, and he'd already done so once—no, twice. And Victoria was so tired of the pain.