"Ros— "

The door opened and she was freed, never to know what Geordie had been about to say. She would like to think it might have been an apology for all he'd put her through. It didn't matter at the moment, not with Anthony's presence filling the room.

"With as quiet as it got, I was afraid you might have killed each other.''

She didn't question why he was there, not just then. "Eavesdropping at doors seems to be a habit of yours, my lord."

He didn't deny it. "A useful one, and most times fascinating."

That "most times" referred to his eavesdropping on her and Frances, she knew, and he didn't like what he had overheard then. But there wasn't much he could have overheard this time to annoy him. He might look stern, but by now she knew the difference.

He was angry, but notthatangry. In fact, it could just be a carryover from last night.

"He's leaving, as you can see," she said, walking toward her husband.

"And you came to say good-bye?" Anthony replied dryly. "How thoughtful of you, my dear."

She wasn't going to be baited. "If you've come to take me home, I thank you. I find myself without a ride."

She hoped that that would do it, that he wouldn't direct his attention to Geordie now and start a scene that she would be forced to witness. She didn't particularly want to see Anthony in the mood that could have brought about what he'd already done to Geordie. His level stare made her hold her breath. And then he directed that intense look to Geordie. Roslynn knew her cousin must be trembling in mortal fear.

"I'll be gone wi'in the hour," Geordie volunteered.

Anthony's nerve-racking stare lasted a moment longer. Then he nodded curtly and led Rosiynn out the door. His hand on her elbow was impossible to break loose from, so she gave up after one try. Outside, there was no carriage, just his horse being held by a street urchin.

Roslynn decided to attack before he could. "What were you doing back here?''

"Come to see you home, of course."

"Making sure he was gone, you mean, since you couldn't possibly know I'd be here."

"That too."

She gritted her teeth. "Didyou know?"

"Not until I heard you tearing into the poor man with all the vile, loathsome, and despicable names you never got around to calling him."

So he had been outside the door from the beginning. Had she said anything he shouldn't have heard?

No, she didn't think so—not this time. But she was still annoyed.

"You would have been better served to have ferreted out his men, who had still been watching the house—from the park, no doubt. They followed me to the bank and—"

"Yes, Jeremy did mention that was your destination. Imagine my surprise to find you here instead."

He said it as if he didn't believe her. "Hell's teeth, Anthony! I didn't know where he was, so how could I have found him even if I'd wanted to, which I didn't? Those dolts he hired hadn't been told yet that he'd given up."

"Plausible," was all he said as he tossed the youth a coin and mounted his stallion.

She glared at the hand he leaned over to offer her. Sitting next to him all the way home was not very enticing at the moment. She would have preferred to find a hack but saw none on the street.

She took his hand and found herself sitting between his legs, her own draped over his thigh. Color rose swiftly to her cheeks as she was forced to put her arms around him. It was a disconcerting ride, one that brought vividly to mind her main dilemma. Surrounded by his warmth, her nostrils filled with his scent, she could think only about how to get out of the bargain she had struck with him and back into his bed without any stipulations at all.

Chapter Thirty-nine

The ride to Piccadilly seemed to take forever, and yet it wasn't nearly long enough. A hazy kind of euphoria had settled over Roslynn. With no words to distract her, just the steady gait of the horse, the steady beat of Anthony's heart next to her ear, it was easy to forget reality and float in a cocoon of contentment.

So it was quite jarring to be placed on her feet and have her plaguey problems recalled. The suddenness of it left Roslynn disoriented for a moment. In fact, she stared at the crumpled envelope lying at her feet for a good fifteen seconds before she realized what it was and reached for it. Anthony's hand came up the victor.

Roslynn groaned inwardly, having forgotten all about those stupid bills. To have one fall cut of her skirt pocket was bad enough. To have Anthony retrieve it was the worst luck. And it was too much to hope he would just hand it back to her. He didn't. He opened it!

"Anthony!"

He shot her a glance with one dark, winged brow arched. "It's addressed to me," was all he said.

She started to walk into the house, as if that would end the matter. His hand on her arm detained her while he still perused the paper in his other hand.

When he spoke, his voice sounded merely curious. "Might I ask what you're doing with this?"

She could see no way out and turned to face him. "It's for some of the furniture I bought."

"I can see what it's for, my dear. I asked what you're doing with it."

"I was going to pay it. That's why…"

Her words trailed off as she saw his eyes drift down to her pocket. She followed his gaze and saw another envelope poking out. The bloody ride had worked them loose. And before she could say another word, Anthony's hand was in her pocket and pulling out the rest of the bills.

"You were going to pay these too?"

She nodded, but he wasn't looking at her, so she choked the word out. "Yes."

"Then wouldn't it have been appropriate to have them billed to you instead of me?"

She didn't understand why he was being so calm about this. "I—I meant to, but I forgot."

"No, you didn't," he replied, making her heart sink, only to confuse her by adding, in what was unmistakable amusement, "You're not very good at bargaining, my dear. I could have found these items for half the price you paid for them."

He stuffed the bills into his own pocket, annoying her, because it was just what she would have expected him to do. "Those aremypurchases," she reminded him.

"They gracemyhouse."

"I bought them," she insisted. "I'll bloody well pay for them."

"No, you won't. You had no intention of paying for them to begin with, so let's just leave it as it is, shall we?"

He was smiling at her. Smiling! "Don't be stubborn about this, Anthony. You have enough creditors already. I want to pay for what I—"

"Be quiet, sweetheart," he interrupted, his hands resting on her shoulders. "I suppose I shouldn't have let you go on thinking I was just struggling by, but you were having so much fun trying to put me in debt, I

didn't want to spoil it." He chuckled when she lowered her eyes guiltily, and lifted her chin back up. "The truth is, you could have redecorated a hundred households, and I wouldn't have raised a brow."

"But you can't be rich!"

He laughed delightedly. "It pays to have a brother who is a genius where money is concerned. Edward has a golden touch, you might say. And he handles the family's finances with our blessings. If the town house still doesn't suit you after all the trouble you've gone through to redo it, I have several estates in the outlying vicinity, as well as in Kent, Northampton, Norfolk, York, Lincoln, Wiltshire, Devon—"

"Enough!"

"Are you so disappointed I didn't marry you for your money, my dear?''

"You've still got some of it, as per the marriage contract. I put the money into an account for you this morning." There, at least that was out of the way.

So was his amusement. "You'll take yourself back to the bank and put it in a trust for our children. And as long as we're on this subject, I support you, Roslynn. Your clothes, your jewels, anything that adorns your body, I pay for.''

"And what am I supposed to do withmymoney?" she demanded sharply.

"Anything you like, as long as it's nothing to do with clothing, food, or shelter, or what is my prerogative to buy you. You might do well to discuss with me first what you decide to spend your money on. We just might avoid future arguments in that way."

Her independent spirit was infuriated. Her woman's heart was delighted. And that word "children" kept buzzing in her head. It implied an eventual end to their difficulties, though she couldn't see that end in sight.

"If this discussion is going to continue, shouldn't we take it inside?"

Anthony grinned at her neutral tone. He had made his point, and his earlier pleasure that she had given up her spite against him returned. For whatever reason, it was a peace offering, and he could make one too. That what he had in mind was more of a necessity after that close ride with her was just plain luck.

"This subject has run its course," Anthony said, leading her inside the house. "But there is another that needs immediate attention."

Roslynn's heart skipped a beat, but she couldn't be sure she had grasped his meaning correctly. So she didn't allow herself to hope until he took her arm and escorted her upstairs to his room. Even then, as he closed the door behind them, she still wasn't certain of his intentions. He crossed the room, removed his coat, and tossed it into that cursed chair they had occupied last night.

She frowned at the chair. Oh, she had learned her lesson in it, as he had promised she would.

Resentment bubbled up in her chest, to fight with the powerful arousal she felt just by being in this room again.

"Come here, Roslynn."

He had moved to the bed, was sitting on it, was slowly unbuttoning his white cambric shirt. Her heart picked up double time. He was a temptation beyond imagining, but she didn't think she could bear it if he was going to be "perfunctory" with her once more.

"You—you feel capable of simulating desire, I take it?"

"Simulate?" Both brows shot up. "Oh, I see. You still don't believe in spontaneity, do you, sweetheart?

Come here and help me with my boots, will you?"

She did, only because he hadn't answered her question yet, and she didn't feel like running until she knew for sure. The nastiness she could take, but not the lack of passion.

"You're nervous," he noted when she wouldn't turn around after dropping his second boot on the floor.

"You needn't be, my dear. You have to take advantage of me when the opportunity presents itself.''

He saw her back stiffen and immediately regretted those words. He had made his point last night. She wouldn't forget it. But he couldn't go through that experience again to save his soul.

He reached forward to draw her between his legs, his hands sliding up her ribs to cup her breasts, his cheek pressed against her spencer. Her head fell back. She arched into his hands. Anthony ignited, dropping her down onto the bed, twisting so he leaned over her but kept her legs locked between his.

"Simulation, my dear? I don't believe you and I are capable of such a feat."

His mouth covered hers with a scorching passion that singed all her nerve ends, taking her breath away.

It was exquisite. It was what she remembered, this consuming fire between them that defied all reason.

Last night was forgotten. He was kissing her now as if he would die if he didn't, hiding nothing from her, and the soul of the woman came alive in his arms.

Chapter Forty

"I'll be leaving in two days, Tony," was the first thing James said as he entered the dining room.

"Need help packing?"

"Don't be tedious, puppy. You know you've loved having me."

Anthony grunted and resumed eating his breakfast. "When did you finally decide to be on your way?"

"When I saw how hopeless your situation has become. It's simply no fun to watch anymore."

Anthony tossed down his fork, glaring at his brother's back as James walked casually to the sideboard after that remark and heaped food on a plate. Actually, he thought he'd made a great deal of progress in the past two weeks. He had only to touch Roslynn now and she turned into his arms. He failed to see what was hopeless about that. Soon she would admit that she needed him as much as he needed her.

She would admit her folly and damn her own rules. But until she did, he would abide by them, to the bloody letter.

"Would you mind explaining that remark?"

James sat down across from him and said maddeningly, "I like this room now. What'd it cost you?"

"Blister it, James!"

A shrug. "It's obvious, dear boy. Here she is sharing your room, at all hours of the day, I've noticed, yet when you two aren't ensconced behind that door, you're bloody strangers. Where's the finesse you're known for that has women eating out of the palm of your hand? Is she immune?"

"This is none of your business, you know."

"I know."

Anthony answered him anyway. "She's not immune, but she's not like other women either. She has these infernal notions… the point is, I want her to come to me of her own will, not with senses drugged and giving her no choice."

"You mean she won't—come to you, that is?" When Anthony simply scowled at him, James chuckled.

"Don't tell me you haven't straightened up that little misunderstanding about sweet Margie?"

"You still remember her name?"

The sneer was obvious, but James chose to ignore his brother's testiness. "Actually, I've been back to see her quite often. She was a delectable piece." But that vixen in breeches hadn't shown up at the tavern again, the real reason he had gone back there. "Did you never think to explain?"