Standing, he donned his robe, studying her in the gray light of dawn as he tied off the belt. His gaze slid over the sleek lines of her legs and a familiar burn ignited his blood as he recalled their silky texture wrapped around him.

He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with her—crawl back _inside _ her. To never part from her.

She made him feel…

He dragged a hand over his bristly jaw. Hell, she made him feel.

The realization unsettled him, rocked his heart from the cave where it lodged.

He took a sudden step back as if a snake coiled before him. The last time he had felt this strongly about a woman, his soul had been razed, his heart bled dry.

Love carried a price. He knew that. And he would never pay it again.

His gaze swept over Jane, devouring the sight of mahogany hair tangled about shoulders that gleamed like polished marble in the dawning light. Not that he would ever deny himself of her again. He was not fool enough to try, to think he could.

But that did not mean he had softened and turned into the fool of his youth, hungering for love.

He would have her whenever the urge took him. That did not mean he loved her. Did not mean he had yet again lost control of himself.

Determined, he turned and strode into his room, heart sealed tightly.

Jane woke smiling, her body warm and sated, a lethargy she had never known weighing her down, liquefying her bones, making her feel heavy as lead.

Memories of the night before assailed her. Of Seth. Of her. Of thorough, exhaustive lovemaking she hoped to repeat at the first opportunity.

Twice now, she had fallen asleep in his arms. Her smile deepened. She stretched out an arm, eager to touch him again, to feel his warm skin. Her hands met cool linen. Smile slipping, she sat up and looked around her, staring at the rumpled, sun-dappled bed.

Her brow creased. Seth was gone. Without a word, without a touch.

She drew the counterpane over her nudity and curled into a small ball, trying to imagine it was Seth’s arms around her and not merely her own.

Jane hovered in the threshold, observing Julianne sitting alone at the dining table, a forlorn expression on her face as she fiddled with the food on her plate.

“How long are you going to stand there?” Julianne asked, lifting a spoonful of porridge to her mouth.

With a rueful smile, Jane stepped into the room. “How did you know I was here?”

“Apples. You always smell of apples.”

“It’s my favorite jam.” Jane moved to the sideboard and selected two slices of toast. Taking a seat across from Julianne, she began applying a generous amount of said jam to her toast, staring thoughtfully at Julianne as she did so. The secret of Julianne’s relationship with Seth’s valet rested heavily on her shoulders. Especially after last night. He had come to her. Sensible or not, hope filled her heart. She did not want secrets between them.

“I wonder,” she began. “Why not try and explain to your brother how you feel about Mr.

Knightly?” Jane bit into her toast, briefly closing her eyes in appreciation of the sweet tang of apples on her tongue.

“You think he would listen?”

Jane swallowed her bite. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But what can come of keeping it secret?”

Julianne lifted her teacup carefully to her lips. “I suppose it unfair of me to ask you to keep secrets from Seth. He is your husband.”

Jane inhaled deeply. “I confess it makes me uncomfortable, but I won’t tell him. You should. If what you and Mr. Knightly feel is true, I can’t imagine Seth not encouraging the relationship. He loves you.”

“And that would certainly make things better for you and Seth.”

Jane cocked her head to the side, failing to understand. “What do you mean?”

Julianne lowered her cup to her chin, saying, “To permit me to marry, Seth would have to see me as… whole. Not an invalid he must devote his life to tending. And that wouldn’t be so bad for you, would it? A husband free of guilt, free to love.”

Jane’s chest contracted, her skin suddenly tight and itchy as she shifted in her chair. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Julianne set her teacup down with a noisy clack. “I can still see your face in my mind, you know.

Do you still wear your heart on your face? I know you loved him, Jane. Everyone knew.”

Julianne’s mouth slanted in a grin. “Well, everyone but him.”

“It was a long time ago.” Jane fiddled a spoon beside her plate, seeing no sense denying what was past. “I was just a girl. What did I know of love?”

“Apparently more than you know now if you don’t recognize that you’re still in love with him.”

 Still in love with him.

 Yes. She accepted that.

Shoulders slumping, she leaned back in her chair. But Seth wanted no love from her. And would give none. The most she could expect were nights like last night.

It seemed like an aberration. Something invented by her overactive imagination and wishful heart. If it meant anything to him, would he have not been there when she awoke instead of sneaking off like a thief in the night—like Marcus?

Clearly he regretted it. In the light of day, mind free and clear of the influences of brandy, he doubtlessly regretted breaking the terms he had set forth regarding their marriage.

“Don’t take it for granted, Jane.” Julianne leaned forward, her expression earnest. “You’ve been given a second chance. Both of you have. Don’t be idiots. It’s no common event to find yourself married to someone you love—” Julianne stopped abruptly, lips quivering.

“I know, Julianne,” Jane murmured, heart squeezing at the longing Julianne felt for a man beyond her reach. A longing she understood.

Eyes suspiciously moist, Julianne surged to her feet, bumping the table and rattling dishes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Do you need any—”

“I can manage,” Julianne cut in, clearly anticipating Jane’s offer for assistance.

“Of course,” she mumbled, watching with some bewilderment as Julianne made her way from the room.

Jane finished her breakfast alone, her toast suddenly dust in her mouth despite her favorite apple jam. She forced herself to chew as she mulled over Julianne’s words, wondering if she perhaps needed to make Seth see that their marriage could be more, could be everything he had once dreamed of finding with Madeline. If he let himself love her. And she him.

Shaking her head, she pushed from the table, no closer to understanding what was possible and what was not. She only knew she couldn’t force love on someone who didn’t want it. She had known that at seventeen. A painful lesson, but one she never forgot.

Deciding to escape the house and perhaps clear her head, she hastened up the stairs. Turning the corridor to her room, she collided with Seth. His hands came up to grip her arms and steady her.

Immediately, heat spread through her. Her body leaned toward his. The reality of time and place fled. She no longer stood in a corridor. It was last night again and her body reacted. Needed his skin against hers, his hands on her.

“Seth,” she breathed.

As if burned, he released her. His eyes slid over her, a bright flame glowing in the brown depths.

“Jane.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing emerged. She searched his face, looking for answers carved in the hard lines and unsmiling mouth. Answers to questions she could not bring herself to voice. Did last night mean anything to you? Do you regret it? Had it been nothing more than the brandy?

“I was going to my room. To change. I thought I might take a walk.” Thinking on her conversation with Julianne, she drew a fortifying breath. She would never know if their marriage could be more, would never get find answers if she did not at least try. “Perhaps you would care to join me?”

“I have an appointment.”

“Oh.” She dropped her gaze, studying her hands and feeling foolish.

“Jane.” He placed a finger beneath her chin and forced her to look at him. His eyes drilled into her as he shook his head side to side, slowly, almost regretfully. “Last night was—”

“Last night was last night,” she blurted, suddenly not wanting to hear anything from his lips that faintly resembled regret.

Stepping around him, she stared straight ahead, careful not to meet his gaze, content to let the vagueness of her words be all that was said.

“Excuse me. I need to change for that walk now.”

Jane woke abruptly that night, blinking in the oil-fed light, the book she’d been reading lay haphazardly on the bed to her right. Blast, she’d fallen asleep and forgotten to put out the lamp.

She picked up the book and snapped it shut. Sitting up, she rubbed her sleep-clouded eyes and swung her legs over the side, intending to put out the light.

A large shadow fell over her and she fell back on the bed with a yelp, clutching the book to her chest like a shield.

“Seth,” she whispered, eyeing the hard n**ed length of him looming over her.

Her body sprang to instant, singing life. Shadows flickered over his bronzed flesh and her palms tingled to feel him again.

All Seth had done to her, all she had let him do, all she wanted him to do still, rushed over her with an urgency that stole her breath and left her a mass of tingling nerves. She clenched her thighs, the ache low in her belly deepening, clawing, demanding for him.

“Last night,” he growled, plucking the book from her clenched fingers, “will be repeated.” His eyes glittered beneath the dark slash of his brows. “Tonight, tomorrow, and the next night…”

Her heart contracted with each delicious word.

His voice continued in its low rumble, “Again and again and again…”

His hand shot to the hem of her nightgown, leaving no doubt the purpose of his visit as he pulled it up and over her head in one smooth motion. Cool air swept over, followed by the burning trail of his eyes. “In the future, you’ll sleep in my bed.”

He dropped his body over hers, arms caging her in. She turned her head, the sight of the bulging biceps on either side thrilling her, igniting a burning ache at her core that had her instinctively thrusting her pelvis forward, nudging at his hardness, begging for him to fill her, to ease the infernal burn that demanded quenching.

Without a word, he moved her to her side and spooned her, his big body pressed tightly against hers. His manhood prodded her backside and she rubbed against it. His deep, primal groan, vibrated from his chest into her back. Her br**sts grew heavy, the ni**les tightening.

His large hand splayed her belly, his wide palm sizzling hot on her flesh. Looking down, she studied his darker hand on her pale skin. His hand shifted, moving downward, the blunt tips of his fingers brushing the soft hair between her legs, sifting through the short curls to her wetness.

She unclenched her thighs and allowed him entrance, thrilled and scandalized as he stroked her, his touch teasing at first, then harder, tearing short, quick gasps from her throat.

She surged into his hand and ground her backside against his erection. His chest muscles flexed behind her, the crisp feel of his hair exciting and tantalizing, chafing the tender skin of her back.

His fingers worked faster, the rasp of his breath loud in her ear as he furiously rolled his fingers over her tiny nub, tearing a cry from where it hid deep in her throat.

She shuddered, release washing over her in sizzling waves. Boneless and sated, she rolled onto her back, her eyes seeking his. Nothing prepared her for the smoldering intensity of his gaze, for molten brown eyes that seared her with a hunger that matched her own.

He came over her swiftly, settling between her legs. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and her h*ps rose up off the bed to meet his first thrust.

He tossed back his head, tendons stretched taut in his neck as he impaled her. Neither spoke.

Neither made a sound. Lodged deeply inside her, she could not tell where either one of them began, could never imagine not having this—not having him.