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He softened his lips and moved over hers in gentle, exploratory touches.

His fingers lightly caressed the delicate, vulnerable place where her neck and shoulder joined, and then the tip of his tongue followed the same path.

She moaned louder and curled her arms around his neck, straining upward toward his heated body.

Trevor inhaled her warm, womanly scent, and his spiraling arousal reached the heights of sweet desperation. He felt as though he were standing on a cliff and the ground was slowly giving way beneath him.

Suddenly, he pulled his lips away. He could feel her trembling in the curve of his arm, yet he knew if he allowed this to go any further, he would end up seducing her on the drawing room settee.

Their eyes met and held, mere inches apart. In that instant she was so open, so beautiful it nearly made his heart stop. Trevor cleared his throat.

“In the midst of all this misery and scandal you have overlooked the simplest, most direct way to end it all.”

“I have?” she whispered.

“Yes.” Unable to resist, he nuzzled the side of her throat. “We could get married.”

She jerked in response and stared at him incredulously. “You are joking.”

“I am alarmingly serious.”

This was hardly the first proposal of marriage Meredith had ever received.

In her coming-out season alone, there had been an even half dozen offers for her hand.

Lovestruck youths on bended knee, mature widowers who spoke of companionship and security, accomplished rakes who smoothly vowed to forsake their hedonistic ways and transform themselves into pillars of society, had all crowded this very drawing room.

There had been endless praise of her beauty, her spirit, her womanly charms. The proposals were as varied and unique as the men who made them, yet they shared one very important trait. They each had left her feeling slightly queasy and completely disinterested.

Yet the marquess’s remark, spoken in an almost offhanded manner, had not brought forth the usual reaction. His words had opened up a well of endless possibilities within Meredith’s soul. They had miraculously struck a chord somewhere deep within her.

She dared to look into his blue eyes, and for just an instant felt herself falling into them. But she could not! It would be disastrous for them both. Meredith shook her head slightly and resolutely put her attraction to him aside.

“That is a most impossible suggestion, my lord.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of her hand. “Are you very certain, Meredith? I promise it would not be all that grim to be married to me. I am hardly a man who would insist upon obedience and submissive behavior from you.”

“Therein lies the dilemma, my lord, for I would expect that of you.”

“Submission? Or obedience?” He smiled softly, and Meredith realized he did so rarely. Perhaps that was for the best. The devastating charm his relaxed smile evoked played havoc with her peace of mind.

Before she realized his intent, he kissed her again.

Deeply, passionately, and with such gentle eroticism her lips tingled.

He kissed the edge of her temple, the side of her cheek and the corner of her mouth.

She put her hand on his chest and felt the solid wall of muscle beneath.

Her thought was to push him away, yet the unbearable tension knotting inside her left her feeling almost too weak to accomplish the task.

Instead Meredith’s traitorous body strained toward his, seeking the intimate pleasures he was offering.

Trevor’s fingertips drifted down her throat to the swell of her breasts.

Reverently he cupped them, one in each palm.

She closed her eyes and sighed as he stroked and teased the nipples until they ached and hardened.

He murmured something low and urgent and then lifted her onto his lap.

She knew she should protest, tell him to cease at once, but her voice could not be found.

Her cheek turned against his shoulder, her rapid breath fanned his heated flesh.

His legs shifted so that the hard bulge beneath his breeches was fitted against her womanhood.

A heavy, sweet ache formed inside her as Trevor began a rhythmic rocking motion, pressing his hips into hers. Meredith’s body jolted alive. This is madness!

The heartbeat drumming in her ears was suddenly threatening to drown out all sense of reality. Abruptly Meredith pulled away. She rose, frightened and confused, nearly stumbling as her weakened knees began to collapse.

A shaken sound escaped her lips, and she struggled to control her labored breathing. In this emotional and physical state it was difficult to think clearly, but Meredith gave it a valiant effort.

A marriage between them could never occur. She began to list the objections to the match in her mind and found she could not form a single coherent thought.

But she must. Meredith forced herself to ignore the great heat that seemed to be emanating from him, despite the distance between them.

Nearly every inch of her skin felt on fire, but she did not allow herself to think of it.

Now, more than any other moment in her life, she must remain clearheaded and logical.

How could they possibly marry? Once the passion was purged from her body, she would find herself trapped, married to a man who had no real interest in her, no true regard for her. Meredith could not imagine a more miserable experience.

She knew Trevor possessed the ability to love a woman well and completely, for she had witnessed the remarkable happiness he had shared with Lavinia. Yet Meredith entertained no illusions about the possibility of rekindling that degree of love and devotion in Trevor toward herself.

He had changed much in the years since Lavinia’s death and not for the better. The Trevor of today would be a most unsatisfactory husband.

And what of herself? Though she did not like to dwell upon her shortcomings—after all, what person did?—Meredith feared she would make an equally unsatisfactory wife.

“I appreciate your honorable solution to my current difficulties, yet there is no need to sacrifice ourselves to the dictates of a society neither of us respects,” Meredith said, focusing her eyes upon the spot just above his left ear.

“It would be foolish if we allowed this scandal to bring us a lifetime of unhappiness.”

“A lifetime, dear Meredith?” His mouth twitched. “That is a bit overdramatic. A simple no to my proposal would have sufficed.”

Her common sense told her she had done the right thing, had given him the only reasonable answer possible.

Yet why did she feel like such a coward?

There was a mocking half smile upon his lips, but for just an instant she thought she had seen a flash of hurt—or maybe it was disappointment—in his eyes.

She put her tongue firmly between her teeth and held herself rigid as the marquess stood.

He kept his eyes pinned to hers as he deliberately adjusted his clothing, the clothing she had mussed during their kisses.

To her dismay, she found it necessary to blink several times in order to contain the sudden emotion that had sprung to her eyes.

“I thank you for your visit today, my lord.” She dipped into a low, graceful curtsy.

He shot her a searching glance. When she failed to respond, Trevor gave a curt nod of his head, turned on his heel and left the room without a backward glance.

She listened intently until she heard his footsteps fade from the hallway, strained mightily to hear the front door being opened and then closed behind him.

She wondered if and when she would see him again and realized it might not be for a very long time. And if they did meet by chance, it would certainly be in a room filled with people. In all likelihood, she would never again be alone with the handsome, dashing marquess.

Strange. The reality of that made her feel hollow and empty, almost to the point of desolation.

Hoping to settle her nerves, Meredith took a long, hot soaking bath after dinner.

Reclining lazily with her head propped on the edge of the porcelain tub, she let the steaming water seep into her bones in an effort to ease some of the tension.

But while the soothing waters had some effect on her body, they could do nothing to ease the torment that clouded her mind.

She sought her bed soon after her bath and drifted through hours of fitful slumber, until a noise outside her bedchamber drew her awake.

It began as a low rumble, then escalated to a persistent drone.

Meredith rolled over on her side and tried to ignore the sounds, but they persisted.

It was a conversation. Low and hushed and whispered, but echoing through the cavernous hallway and into her room.

Puzzled, Meredith looked toward the bedchamber door, and heard it again.

There were at least two, perhaps three different voices. She thought one of them might be her maid, Rose, but could not be certain. Tired and out of sorts from lack of sleep, Meredith pushed back the coverlet, climbed from her bed, and padded barefoot to the door to investigate.

She yanked open her door, fully prepared to chastise whoever stood in the hallway at this unmentionable hour of the early morning, but found it empty. Frowning, she poked her head out and glanced furtively up and down the corridor.

There was no one in sight. Questioning her eyesight, as well as her hearing, Meredith squinted intently into the darkened hallway.

“Who’s there?” she called out suddenly, nearly jumping when she heard the loudness of her own voice breaking through the quiet.

There was no answer. Meredith blinked, then saw a shadow move at the end of the hallway. A cold shiver of apprehension ran up her spine. “Show yourself at once!” she commanded, thrusting her hands deep into the pockets of her nightgown to hide their trembling.

“Beg pardon, my lady,” a quivering female voice replied. “ ’Tis only me, Rose.”