“If Amy had one ounce of romance in her soul, she would be sighing with gratification. Instead, she said acerbically, “All that’s missing is the love poem.”Jermyn deposited her in a chair by the table. “I’ll order a pen and ink for you.”

“Jermyn saw Amy strolling toward him, a seductive roll to her hips, discarding her clothing as she walked. She was smiling, teasing him as she stepped out of her petticoats and stood clad in her sheer chemise. Her nipples showed through the cream silk, puckered with desire for him—”Amy’s disagreeable tone shredded his fantasy. “My lord, you have been staring at the chessboard for a full five minutes. Would you like me to make your move for you?”He jumped like a lad with his fingers caught in the jam pot. The rickety chair beneath him groaned.“Now, Amy, you must be patient with His Lordship,” Miss Victorine chided. “He’s spent the day manacled by his ankle and he’s ready to snarl like a lion.”“More like a small, ill-tempered badger,” Amy muttered.Jermyn looked across the long length of the table at her. He sat on one end, she sat on the other. She wore the most contrary expression, and her eyes sparkled with irritation. She made it most difficult to indulge in a dream about her.”

“She glanced over her shoulder at him. “So until the wedding ceremony in your chapel, we’ll be chaste?”Her smile flirted and taunted, and he marveled at how quickly Amy had learned to entice. “There is an advantage with living in a building that was once an abbey.”“What is that, Jermyn?” She pulled on her tattered gloves.Biggers moaned softly. “The place is riddled with secret passages,” Jermyn told her.“But my lord! You’re not suggesting you’ll visit my bedchamber for a tryst?” She fluttered her eyelashes and tried to look shocked.With a straight face, he replied, “Absolutely not! You’ve already proved your skill at sneaking into my bedchamber, so I thought you would come to mine.”She burst into laughter, a full-bodied peal or merriment. Taking his arm, she scolded, “Layabout!”“Only with you, my bride, only with you.”

“Jermyn’s breath stilled. He watched intently. So far, she had followed his instructions. Now he waited to see if she would follow his last, insistent direction.In the top drawer of my bedside table, there’s a small box. It contains everything we need to make our night pleasurable . . . leave everything else behind but bring that box.He bent his will on her.Amy, get the wooden box. Get it. If thoughts had power, then his directive would surely be followed.She gathered the clothes, wrapped them in a piece of brown paper and tied them like a package with a string. She thrust the package into a large cloth bag that hung by her belt and started toward the sitting room.In frustration, Jermyn wanted to stick his fist through the wall.Why couldn’t the girl just once do as she was told?At the doorway, she hesitated.Jermyn’s heart lifted. Do it, he mentally urged. Get it. She glanced toward the bedside table, then away. Jermyn could almost see the tug-of-war between her good sense and her yearning.Had he baited the trap with strong enough desire? Had he played the meek, willing male with enough sincerity? With a soft “blast!” she hurried to the bedside table. Opening the drawer, she pulled out the wooden box and stared at it as if it were a striking snake.With a glance around her, she placed it on the table and raised the lid. She lifted the small, gilt-and-blue bottle. Pulling the stopper, she sniffed.Jermyn preferred a combination of bayberry and spice, and he held his breath as he scrutinized her face, waiting for her reaction. If she didn’t savor the scent, he had no doubt she would put it back.But for a mere second, she closed her eyes. Pleasure placed a faint smile on her lips.She liked it.And he hoped she associated the scent with him, with the day she kidnapped him. That would be sweet justice indeed.Briskly she stoppered the bottle, replaced it in the box and slid the box in her pocket.Together the two men watched as she left the bedroom. Jermyn heard a click as the outer door closed. Guardedly he walked out, surveying the sitting room. Empty.Turning to the bewildered Biggers, Jermyn said, “Quickly, man. I need that bath!”

“I won’t walk through the wedding arch with you,” she said.“The arch is traditionally used by grooms with reluctant brides, for the arch is tall enough for a man with his woman on his shoulder.”As they reached the door, he bent and put his shoulder in her stomach. As if she were a sack of potatoes, he swung her up and over. Amy shrieked and gave his back a good hard thump.He dropped her down until her rear sat uppermost on his shoulder and her head dangled almost to his trousers, and kept walking. “Miss Victorine!” she shouted.“I’ll come as fast as I can, dears!” Miss Victorine called from the doorway. “Shame on you for appealing to an old lady for rescue.”

“In the top drawer of my bedside table, there’s a small box. It contains everything we need to make our night pleasurable. If you have to, leave everything else behind but bring that box.”She snorted as if in derision—but it was a weak snort. She walked toward the steps again.“Amy.”She turned back to him. “What?”“Did you notice I didn’t ask for a nightshirt?”She glanced at his lit in her hand and wondered why he told her that.Then she knew why.He had just told her he slept nude.Every night in the cellar right beneath her bedchamber, his naked body remained at the ready to welcome her. Now that she knew it, she could never escape the image . . . or the temptation.”

“Caleb came to his mother's side and helped her to her feet. "Besides, if you rest, then I am free to make love to Jacqueline.""Caleb!" Jacqueline had been worried she would say the wrong thing. Instead, Caleb had put his foot in it.But obviously all the cliches she'd ever heard about Italian sons were true. He really could do no wrong, for Mrs. D'Angelo shook her finger at him--but she said indulgently, "You are incorrigible.""Ma, I'm just trying to get going on those grandchildren you want.”