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her suite of rooms was situated.
    “Devil take it, Gabby, where in God’s name did you get the notion that I would be embarrassed to have you on my arm? I don’t give a fig about…about…about a god-damned birthmark. I have a mole behind my left knee. It’s about the size of a gold sovereign. I hope you shall think none the less of me for that.”
    His dark eyes blazed as his arms thrashed about during his little speech. She blinked rapidly, not understanding his ire. Tears welled in her eyes and she bit her lip. How many times as a child had she tried to wash the darkened skin away? She leaned against the wall to place distance between them.
    “But you think I’m ugly and I understand…I do…” she started.
    “I do not think you are ugly. Whatever gave you such a ridiculous idea?”
    “You did. You said I was ugly.”
    “When? When did I say you were ugly?”
    “The summer after your first year at Eton. You came here and I would not allow you to play with the puppy the stable master had given me. You were too rough and he was just a baby and besides, you had not written to me like you had promised and I was hurt. You said I was ugly and would end up an old spinster. You said no one would want to marry a girl who looked like she had strawberry jam all over her face.” Gabriella blinked back the tears. She would not cry in front of him. Let him try to wriggle out of his cruel words.
    Nick’s mouth dropped open and he stared at her, understanding dawning as the memories came to the fore. “Oh my God. So I did. I remember now.”
    “I think our parents quarrelled over it because neither you nor your family ever came back to Thornwich and we never visited Chetfern estate again.”
    “They did.” His voice was quiet—his tone sombre. “I remember now my father using his switch on my derriere and telling me to learn to respect ladies. He gave me an almighty lecture about how appearances were immaterial and my ugly taunts were a bigger disgrace to my family than any birthmark could ever be.”
    “But your father was wrong, Nick. Appearances do matter. I’m not such a bad sort. I’m relatively easy to get along with, intelligent enough to hold a conversation without having to only discuss hair ribbons and bonnets and yet no one has ever asked me to waltz apart from the gentleman who was picked out for me by the patronesses of Almack’s during my come out season. Not one gentleman, Nick. So you see, appearances do matter and so do birthmarks.”
    “I will not make excuses for my behaviour that day, Gabriella, except to say that I did not mean the hurtful things I said. I was a stupid, thoughtless, callow youth. I was annoyed at you for not allowing me to play with the puppy and I struck out. I was cruel and picked on something which was an easy target. What I said was mean and absolutely not true. Gabby, you are beautiful and clever and strong and…”
    His gaze raked over her face as his tongue darted out to lick his lower lip. He took a step forward, effectively pinning her against the wall.
    “Nick,” she breathed, her hands coming up instinctively to rest on the shoulders of his woollen coat.
    “Gabby,” he all but growled as he placed his lips over hers. They were softer that she had ever imagined a man’s lips would be and he coaxed her to follow his lead, massaging his lips against hers, relaxed but enticing.
    She copied him, enjoying the rising excitement in her belly. He pushed his fingers into her coiffure as he splayed his other hand across the small of her back and the curve of her bottom. It was almost scandalous. But when he moved even closer she could not find the will to ask him to stop. She wanted to know more of him and at that moment he pressed his tongue into her mouth.
    She made a little whimpering sound at the back of her throat as she surrendered completely to him, spearing her own fingers through his dark curls and rising on her tiptoes to press nearer to him. She began to need