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the hearth and crossed his arms over his
chest--the only way he could keep from yanking her into his arms.
Bloody hell, if he’d thought it difficult not to pounce upon her
before, it was nearly impossible not to do so now, when no more
secrets existed between them. When he’d bared his soul to her, and
she’d admitted to having strong feelings for him.
    Based on her reaction to their kiss on the
terrace, he didn’t doubt he could seduce her, but he wanted more
than a quick romp. Wanted more than her body. He wanted her heart.
And wanted her to know she owned his. Although she’d owned it from
the first moment he’d seen her, he’d never told her so, something
he’d castigated himself for every day for the past six months.
Surely if he’d told her, she wouldn’t have left him. He’d intended
to, but hadn’t felt the need to rush, especially as he believed she
knew, even without the words, how deeply he cared for her. Bloody
hell, it had seemed as if his feelings all but glowed from him.
    It was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat. Before
this evening was over, Sophia would know, without a doubt, how much
he cared for her--out of the bedchamber as well as in it.
    So instead of sweeping her into his arms and
carrying her to the nearest bed he offered her a smile and teased,
“I’d wager you’re now sorry you never expressed to me a love for
diamonds and emeralds.”
    She laughed, a magical sound that flowed
over him like warm honey. “In truth I’m not overly fond of diamonds
or emeralds. I much prefer--“
    “ Pearls.”
    “ I mentioned
that?”
    He nodded. “Once.”
    “ And you
remembered?”
    “ You sound
surprised.”
    “ I suppose I
am.”
    She returned her attention to the table and
picked up one of the sea shells decorating the surface. As he knew
she would, she held the shell up to her ear, and his heart turned
over at the delighted smile that lifted her lips. “You also
remembered how I love the sound of the sea.”
    “ I recall every detail of
our time together. Everything about you
is...unforgettable.”
    Color rushed into her cheeks and she quickly
set the shell back in the bowl. “Ian, what I said in the carriage
regarding my feelings...there are things we need to discuss--“
    “ I agree. And what better
way to begin than with your favorite things?” He slid back one of
the mahogany chairs from the table in invitation.
    Her gaze lingered over the arrangement of
pink roses set in a crystal vase in the center of the table. “I
believe you are once again trying to tempt me with your roses.”
    “ I am. And let’s not
forget the cherries, marzipan, scones and raspberry
jam.”
    She moistened her lips, a
gesture that tightened Ian’s fingers around chair back. “I am a bit hungry,” she
said.
    “ Excellent. Shall we
sit?”
    She hesitated, and he prayed the wariness in
her eyes was a result of not trusting herself--bloody great news as
far as he was concerned, as opposed to not trusting him--a bloody
depressing thought. Finally she nodded, then gracefully sat and
murmured her thanks. Ian took the seat across from her and popped a
piece of marzipan in his mouth. While enjoying the almond-flavored
treat as well as several cherries he watched her spread jam on a
scone then take a delicate bite.
    “ Is it to your
liking?”
    “ Yes. Thank you for going
to such trouble on my behalf.”
    “’ Tis no trouble to give
you the things you enjoy, Sophia.”
    His gaze riveted on a speck of jam dotting
her bottom lip. Unable to resist, he reached out and brushed a
fingertip over the spot. “You missed a bit of jam.” With his gaze
steady on hers, he sucked the morsel from his fingertip. Her eyes
darkened at the gesture--which he might perhaps have been able to
resist, but when her gaze dropped to his mouth and she whispered
his name, the fire racing through him incinerated his every good
intention, and the battle not to touch her was well and truly
lost.
    Without taking his gaze from her, he