“Liar,” she accused. “You hated me.”

He shook his head. “I never hated you. I was bothered, plagued, and tormented by you, but that’s not at all the same thing.”

“The perfume works,” she insisted. “Not only did you respond to it, but Annabelle tried it on her husband—and she swears that he kept her up all night as a result.”

“Sweetheart,” Marcus said wryly, “Hunt has behaved like a boar in rut around Annabelle since the first day they met. It’s typical behavior for him, where she is concerned.”

“But it wasn’t typical behavior for you! You had absolutely no interest in me until I wore this scent, and the first time you got a whiff of it—”

“Are you claiming,” he interrupted, his eyes like black velvet, “that I would have a similar reaction to any woman who wears it?”

Lillian opened her mouth to reply, then closed it abruptly as she recalled that he hadn’t displayed any interest when the other wallflowers had tried it. “No,” she admitted. “But it does seem to make quite a bit of difference with me.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “Lillian, I’ve wanted you every moment since I first held you in my arms. And it has nothing to do with your damned perfume. However”—he inhaled the scent one last time before replacing the tiny stopper—“I do know what the secret ingredient is.”

Lillian stared at him with wide eyes. “You do not!”

“I do,” he said smugly.

“What a know-all,” Lillian exclaimed with laughing annoyance. “Perhaps you’re guessing at it, but I assure you that if I can’t figure out what it is, you certainly couldn’t—”

“I know conclusively what it is,” he informed her.

“Tell me, then.”

“No. I think I’ll let you discover it on your own.”

“Tell me!” She pounced on him eagerly, thumping him hard on the chest with her fists. Most men would have been driven back by the solid blows, but he only laughed and held his ground. “Westcliff, if you don’t tell me this instant, I’ll—”

“Torture me? Sorry, that won’t work. I’m too accustomed to it by now.” Lifting her with shocking ease, he tossed her onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. Before she could move an inch, he was on top of her, purring and laughing as she wrestled him with all her might.

“I’ll make you give in!” She hooked a leg around his and shoved hard at his left shoulder. The childhood years of fighting with her boisterous brothers had taught her a few tricks. However, Marcus countered every move easily, his body a mass of steely, flexing muscles. He was very agile, and surprisingly heavy. “You’re no challenge at all,” he teased, allowing her to roll atop him briefly. As she sought to pin him, he twisted and levered himself over her once more. “Don’t say that’s your best effort?”

“Cocky bastard,” Lillian muttered, renewing her efforts. “I could win…if I didn’t have a gown on…”

“Your wish may yet be granted,” he replied, smiling down at her. After another few moments, he held her down on the mattress, taking care not to hurt her in their love play. “That’s enough,” he said. “You’re tiring. We’ll call it an even match.”

“Not yet,” she panted, still determined to best him.

“For God’s sake, you little savage,” he said in amusement, “it’s time to give up.”

“Never!” She strained wildly against him, her weary arms trembling.

“Relax,” came his caressing murmur, and her eyes widened as she felt the hardness of his body between her thighs. She gasped, her struggles fading. “Softly, now…” He pulled the front of her gown down, momentarily trapping her arms. “Easy,” he whispered.

Lillian went still, her blood pumping violently as she stared up at him. The light was uncertain in this part of the room, the bed swathed in shadow. Marcus’s dark form moved over hers, his hands turning her this way and that as he eased the gown from her body, and unhooked her corset. And then suddenly she was breathing, breathing, too loudly, too fast, and the soothing stroke of his palm down the front of her body only agitated her further.

Her skin had become so sensitive that the feel of the open air seemed to chafe her, her entire body tingling and prickling. She began to shiver as he peeled away her chemise, her stockings and drawers, the occasional soft graze of his knuckles or fingertips causing her to start.

Marcus stood by the bed, staring at her intently as he removed his own clothes with leisurely slowness. His elegantly sculpted body was becoming familiar to her now, as was the aching excitement that penetrated every inch of her tender flesh. She moaned a little as he joined her on the mattress, gathering her against the warm fleece of his chest. Feeling the continuous tremors that ran through her, he drew his hand over the pale length of her back and cupped the taut shape of her bottom. Everywhere he touched her, she felt waves of intense relief followed by a deeper, more pleasurable ache.

He kissed her slowly, deeply, licking into the silky recesses of her mouth until she groaned with pleasure. Moving down to her br**sts, he covered them with light, half-open kisses, touching her ni**les with fleeting strokes of his tongue. He coaxed and courted her as if she weren’t already flushed and trembling with desire, as if she weren’t breathing in pleading sobs for him to ease the pangs of need. When her br**sts were swollen and her ni**les had contracted to hard tips, he took one peak into his mouth and began to tug firmly, while his hand settled on her stomach.