LITMIR.BIZ

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you.’

      The door, which had been left ajar, opened and Max came in, closing it behind him. ‘Good morning, Bree. Are you delighted?’ His voice was deep and gentle and lightly teasing.

      ‘Of course,’ she responded brightly. ‘Good morning, my lord. Please, do sit down. Would you care for some coffee? Rosa will be back in a moment.’

      His expression was politely disbelieving. ‘I think we are safe for some time, and no, thank you, I am not in need of refreshment.’

      ‘Oh.’ Bree found she was perched on the edge of the chaise and made herself sit back and arrange her limbs with rather more grace. ‘I had a delightful day yesterday. I so enjoyed the drive and the picnic.’

      ‘And the rest of the day?’

      ‘Not the encounter with Mr Latymer, disgusting man. I must thank you again for rescuing me. I am intending to write to Mr Harlow today to thank him also for his support.’

      ‘And no doubt the drive back was delightful?’

      ‘Indeed it was. I have to say that you drive far more smoothly than Mr Latymer, my lord.’

      ‘Thank you.’ Max inclined his head gravely to acknowledge the compliment. ‘Which leaves us with just one part of the day to discuss.’

      ‘Yes.’ Bree made herself keep her head up and not seek refuge in looking at her clasped hands. ‘I … I acted very improperly and I am most grateful for your restraint in not taking advantage of my forward behaviour, my lord.’

      ‘Will you please stop calling me my lord every sentence?’ he demanded.

      ‘No. I do not think I will, my lord. I have allowed myself to get into the way of addressing and treating you with undue familiarity. I am sure it contributed to what occurred yesterday.’

      ‘Ah. So you characterise that incident in the drag as improper, forward and the result of undue familiarity, but you feel I did not take advantage of that undue familiarity, do you, Miss Mallory?’ His voice was very quiet and calm. Bree found she had wrapped the ribbon that trimmed her bodice into a tight knot round her thumb. It hurt.

      ‘Yes.’ She disentangled her thumb, frowning down at the crumpled dark blue satin as though its wreck was a matter of the utmost importance.

      ‘Would you be surprised to know that my friends consider me adept at keeping my temper under control? That I am, in fact, renowned for that control and that they try, on occasion, to make me lose my temper for a bet? They do not succeed.’

      ‘I am not surprised, my lord. I saw you lose your temper yesterday, but you very soon had your emotions under restraint.’ Her own emotions were threatening to escape, either in a fit of hysteria or a demand that he leave at once before she said anything rash, like I love you.

      Max got to his feet with a suddenness that took her completely by surprise. He covered the space between them in one long stride, took her firmly by each arm, just above the elbows, and hauled her to her feet.

      ‘Well, observe me about to lose my temper, Miss Mallory, because I assure you, one more my lord out of you, one more attempt to dismiss what happened yesterday as the result of some kind of foolish imprudence on your part, and I swear you will experience the full force of it.’

      She was very firmly held, although Max was not hurting her. She wondered hazily what would happen if she screamed, or struggled. She ought to feel afraid after the way Brice Latymer had manhandled her yesterday, but she was not. All she felt was warm, agitated in a deliciously arousing sort of way and anxious, although she was not certain about what.

      ‘What are you going to do?’ Her mouth was quite dry, her knees were rapidly turning to jelly and she was fleetingly grateful that he was holding her so very firmly, or she rather thought she would melt in a puddle at his feet. ‘My lord?’ she added, casting a match on the kindling.

      ‘This,’ he growled, and yanked her close to his chest, bent his head and kissed her with a ruthless efficiency that had her whimpering against his mouth. She wanted to hold on to him, but her arms were trapped by her side.

      ‘Now.’ Max set her back from him as abruptly as he had kissed her. ‘Will you stop this nonsense? What happened was the result of something strong and important between us. Are you telling me you do not recognise it?’

      ‘No. No, I’m not. Max, will you please let go of my arms?’

      ‘What?’ He looked down at his hands as though only just aware that he was gripping her. He opened his hands as though she were hot. ‘Hell. Am I hurting you?’

      ‘No, but it was stopping me doing this.’ Bree reached up, curled her arms round his neck and kissed him, as softly as his kiss had been hard. ‘No!’ She stepped back, holding up a hand to hold him where he was, and took refuge behind the chaise. ‘I know how I felt, what it meant to me, but I cannot think straight while you are holding me.’

      ‘Good.’ His eyes were dark, intense and thrilling. ‘I don’t want you thinking straight while I am kissing you.’

      ‘But we cannot keep doing that,’ Bree said, amazed to find her own voice steady and reasonable. ‘It is scandalous behaviour.’

      ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ His voice changed, flattened. Bree sensed the energy draining out of him to be replaced with something akin to resignation.

      ‘Bree, come and sit down. I promise not to pounce on you again.’

      Cautiously she came round the side of the chaise and perched on the edge, relaxing a little as Max sat opposite. He was just too big to be looming over her in the feminine sitting room.

      ‘Bree. I came here intending to ask you to marry me.’

      ‘Oh. Oh, Max, I was so afraid you would feel you had to ask.’

      ‘And I was expecting you to say just that.’ He leaned back in his chair, regarding her thoughtfully over clasped hands. ‘You are going to repeat all this nonsense about your father’s family, about being in trade, about managing the company, aren’t you?’

      ‘Yes, and it is not nonsense,’ she said stoutly.

      ‘Bree, you have enough good connections to satisfy even my grandmother, and that is saying something. You have beauty and intelligence and charm and courage. You would make a magnificent countess.’

      He means it. The dazzling prospect hung before her, then the sense of his words registered. ‘You were intending to ask me? I would make a magnificent countess?’

      ‘There is something I must tell you. Something I thought I could say nothing about until I was certain it was resolved. And then I let my feelings get the better of me, and I have ended up compromising you.’

      ‘It was equally my fault,’ she retorted. So that is why he says nothing about love. He has compromised me, so he feels he must make the best of it and marry me. ‘And I am not ruined, nobody knows but us, and Rosa, so there is no need to feel obligated in any way.’

      Damn, she is convinced I feel I must propose to her. Max wrestled with his conscience. He had come intending to throw all caution to the wind, to tell Bree he loved her, that he wanted to marry her. But as he had looked into those wide, trusting eyes, he knew he could not risk binding her to him, that to do so was less than honourable. And to tell her that he loved her risked drawing her in dangerously close. She already liked and trusted him, he knew she desired him. But love was a step too far to hazard, and, if they could not marry, it was better if only one of them were nursing a broken heart. He deserved that it was he.

      ‘Bree, I have been married before. I may still be married.’

      Max saw the colour drain out of Bree’s face, leaving only spots on her cheekbones as though someone had pressed rose petals to the skin. Even her lips seemed to have paled.

      ‘You were married, and now you

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