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in his hand. "I shall treasure it always."
    "I hope it will be a comfort when you are far away from… us." She gazed up at him. "I thought it would serve to remind you of Christmas here in London and your uncle and—"
    "And all I hold dear?" His gaze met hers, and her breath caught. She nodded slowly. "What do you hold dear, Nicholas?"
    "I…" He drew a deep breath. "Jonathon isn't coming, is he?"
    "No," she whispered and stared into his dark eyes. "I didn't think you would meet me if I simply requested it."
    "You were right. It's most improper to be here alone with you."
    "Nonsense. We have been alone any number of times. Besides, we have known one another since childhood."
    "But you are no longer a child." His gaze darkened with what was surely desire or need or longing. Or love ?
    "Neither of us are children." She stared up at him for a long moment. "I could not let you leave without a moment alone. Without the opportunity to convince you to stay or, failing that, to say good-bye."
    "Why?" His tone was hard and demanding.
    "Because I…" She swallowed hard against the ache in the back of her throat. "Must you go? Must you leave?"
    He drew a deep, shuddering breath, as if it were as difficult for him to say as it was for her to hear.
    "Yes."
    "Why?"
    "I told you. I cannot explain it better than I already have. This is something I must do. My destiny perhaps."
    "Then let it be my destiny too. Take me with you," she said without thinking. "There is something between us, Nicholas. Something that has hovered unspoken since the very moment you returned to London. You cannot deny it."
    "Perhaps—"
    "No!" Her voice was sharp with pent-up longing, and she moved closer. So close she could see the rise and fall of his chest and feel the heat of his body a hair's breadth from her own. Desperation vanquished any modicum of caution.
    "Why are you so stubborn? There is no 'perhaps' about it. You kissed me as I have never been kissed before, and that I cannot forget. I do not believe you can forget it either. You have feelings for me, Nicholas, I know you do, and once you leave there will be no opportunity for you, for us, to determine if those feelings are of importance or nothing of significance at all." Her gaze searched his with a yearning born of an awful, aching wonder deep inside her. "I have to know what you think, how you feel, what you want—"
    "What I want?" He stared at her in disbelief. "What I want, what I have always wanted," he yanked her into his arms, "is you."
    He pulled her hard against him and crushed his lips to hers. He tasted her, devoured her, and she responded in kind. His chest was hard against her breasts, and she could feel his heart beat against her in measure with her own. Passion she had never suspected could exist surged through her, and she clung to him with a need so great that it overwhelmed reason and conquered rational thought and swept away resistance. She thought she would surely die from the sheer intensity of his lips meeting hers, her body molding against his as if they were halves of the same whole. As if this was where she belonged. It lasted a moment or a lifetime or forever, and she vowed never to let him go.
    Without warning, she felt his body stiffen. He released her and stepped back.
    "Forgive me, Elizabeth." He nodded in a curt and formal manner, as if they were mere acquaintances. As if he had not just claimed her soul. "I should not have taken such liberties. Please accept my apologies." She struggled to catch her breath. "What?"
    "I have no excuse, of course, suffice it to say I was simply carried away by your loveliness and," he waved absently at the room, "the festive nature of the evening."
    "You… you… you're apologizing?" She widened her eyes in shock. "For kissing me?"
    "Yes, of course." He shook his head. "It was decidedly improper, especially here, alone, your reputation
    —"
    "You don't have feelings for me?" Disbelief coursed through her. Surely, no man kissed like