THE door crashed open with a resounding bang. Reggie swung around from the vanity seat, brush still raised to her hair.

“What? No trunks packed yet?” he rasped.

Reggie slowly put her brush down. “You’re foxed, Nicholas.”

“Not quite, love. Just enough to realize I’ve been pounding my head against a stone wall for no reason.”

“You’re spouting gibberish.”

He shut the door, leaning against it, his amber eyes on her face. “Consider this. The house is mine. The room is mine. The wife is mine. I need no more license than that to take her to bed.”

“No arguing, love,” he broke in.

She warned frostily, “I think you had better leave before—”

“Will you scream, love? Bring the servants and guests running? They don’t dare intrude, you know. You will suffer from acute embarrassment tomorrow.”

He was smiling at her, the brute. “You will not have your way, Nicholas Eden.”

“But I will,” he corrected agreeably. “And let’s not have any hysterics.”

“When I get hysterical,” she said through gritted teeth, “you will know it.”

“Good of you to be so reasonable, love. Now, why don’t you take off that pretty thing you’re wearing?”

“Why don’t you go—”

“Madame!” he appeared shocked. “If you cannot be civil—”

“Nicholas!” Reggie shouted in frustration. “I am in no mood for nonsense.”

“Well, if you’re in a hurry, love, I will oblige you.”

He started toward her, and she dashed around the large bed, putting it between them. He kept coming, moving around the bed now.

“Don’t come any closer.” Her voice rose with each word. But he did.

Reggie jumped onto the bed and rolled across it. She looked up to find him grinning. He was enjoying the chase.

“I want you out of here this second!” Her voice cracked with fury.

He stepped up onto the bed, bending to avoid being clobbered by the canopy, and she ran for the door. The crashing sound of Nicholas jumping off the bed made her change direction. Behind the Queen Anne chaise longue was safer.

Nicholas went to the door, locked it, then put the key on the ledge over the door, well out of Reggie’s reach.

Reggie looked at the ledge she couldn’t possibly reach, then back at Nicholas. She grabbed a book from the table next to her and threw it at him. He nimbly sidestepped it, chuckling at her efforts, and removed his coat.

“If you persist, Nicholas, I swear I will scratch your eyes out!”

“You can try, love.” He smiled. He moved toward the chaise and pulled her out from behind it, holding her to him firmly.

“Nicho—”

His lips silenced her. A moment later he dropped her on the bed and pressed her against the mattress with his long body. His mouth devoured hers, leaving her no chance to breathe, let alone rail at him. Her fingers gripping his hair could not move his head, nor could her bucking dislodge him. She bit his lip, and he pulled back, grinning down at her.

“You don’t want to do that, love. How can I kiss you properly if you’ve taken a chunk out of my kisser?” She gave a vicious yank to his hair and he growled, “I should have plied you with wine again. You’re much more agreeable when you’re foxed.”

As he kissed her again, Reggie’s eyes widened. Plied her with wine? It hadn’t been a dream! He really had made love to her that night at the inn. And he’d planned it! He’d wanted her enough to trick her… wanted her enough to give her too much wine… wanted her.

Good God, those feelings were sneaking up on her again. How long could she resist?

He looked at her again, his eyes smoldering. “Oh, love,” he said huskily, “love me. Love me like you did before.” he whispered passionately, and her defenses crumbled. Suddenly she was kissing him back with all the passion she possessed. She wasn’t made of stone. She was flesh and blood and her blood was on fire.

Her fingers changed direction, pulling his head toward her. His groans of pleasure were music to her ears. Nicholas wanted her… really wanted her. It was her last thought before there was no more time to think.