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done.”
    Before she could object, Thomas lowered his mouth to hers, touching her lips with a gentle kiss that soon became more urgent, more intense with desire that was not disguised. Blessed saints, she could not help herself; kissing Thomas had always been like eating honey from a spoon. She parted her lips and accepted him, let his tongue inside to touch her own, the silken slickness of his mouth and his sweetness pure heaven. His warm breath rushing against her cheek, she could feel the thunder of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest against her breasts before he pulled away.
    God’s teeth! She could barely catch her breath!
    â€œThat, Lady Meriom, is how a man wishes to kiss a woman. Now show me how you would have kissed Lord Leeman that he should have taken such gross offense.”
    She touched her tingling lips. “I do not know how I would have kissed Lord Leeman, because I did not want to kiss him. I turned him down and allowed another man to take his place. A stranger. I kissed the stranger,” she whispered, glaring at him.
    â€œAh, would you have rather kissed Lord Leeman?”
    â€œI think not, sir, but had he insisted I would have endured it for politeness sake.”
    With a fluid movement, Thomas pressed his lips against hers and kissed a searing trail from her mouth, moving to the scar on her chin, then down her neck, pausing to nip at her earlobe and nuzzle in the hollow just above her collarbone.
    He raised his head, his dark eyes penetrating, glinting. “Kissing, Lady Meriom, is not to be endured.” His voice was low and languid. Seductive.
    She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “Nay,” she replied, her voice ragged. “Nay, not to be endured—”
    His lips covered her mouth again, this time with the pressure of featherlight kisses that sent her blood racing through her veins.
    Blessed saints, when had the stony castle turned so warm! Why did he pretend to be a stranger? Any other man she could have resisted. But not Thomas. Never Thomas, no matter how angry she was at him, or how hurt she was by his refusal to reveal himself.
    Hell to the devil. She would give him what he asked for.
    She kissed him back, pressed her lips lightly to his mouth, tentative and soft, a bare whisper of a kiss. She took his lower lip between her teeth and sucked, gently humming, knowing it would drive him mad—as it had years ago.
    He moaned and drew his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, exactly what she’d hoped for. Slowly she slid her hands from his shoulder to his hips, all the while, covering his neck with distracting kisses, touching his skin with her tongue.
    He threaded his fingers through her hair, the weight of him pressing her against the wall. She could not have moved if she’d wanted to. Thomas wedged his knee between hers, and with his free hand, he dragged her skirts up to expose her thighs. Deftly he untied the garters that held her stockings up.
    Not caring who might catch them, she pulled his tunic up, found the ties to his braes and exposed him.
    Thomas gripped her shoulders. “Lady Meriom. You are bold.”
    She pressed her finger to his lips. “Shhhh,” she commanded, sinking to her knees.
    She held him in her hands; she touched him with her tongue before she took the whole of him into her mouth.
    Thomas sucked in his breath, his hips thrusting. “God in heaven, Meri.”
    At the sound of her name, Meriom stopped and pulled away. “Meri” he’d called her, and only he had ever called her Meri.
    She choked back a sob. ’Twas hard to believe he was alive! How could he toy with her? What excuse did he have for this charade?
    She felt his hands beneath her arms, lifting her, drawing her to her feet.
    He cradled her nape and stared into her eyes, his own belying what he wanted, peering at her from beneath his mask. “You are temptress, driving me to madness. If you want no more of this,