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already wounded him once; if he had done otherwise, considering her demeanor, he would have put himself to the hazard again.
    Underneath the compelling scent of blood, his extraordinary sense of smell detected the faint aura of lemon verbena and roses. A soft moan escaped him as the ghost of it threaded through his nostrils. He had reached his suite without realizing it or rememberingstomping there. All he saw was her exquisite image in the sleigh bed, with that incredible hair cascading to her waist. He had already seen what lay beneath—what she tried to hide from him—perfect breasts, young and firm, their pink buds stressing the thin voile nightdress. He couldn’t help but stare. She was exquisite. Despite the palpable rage in her, the hostile attitude that brooked no room for opposition, Cora Applegate was the most desirable woman he had ever met.
    Thinking on that, he burst into his bedchamber and slammed the door behind him, which brought Parker, his valet, shuffling through the door that led to the adjoining chamber. He’d evidently roused the man from bed. Clad in his wrinkled nightshift and plaid dressing gown, Parker was a comical sight, with his mouth agape and his sparse gray hair fanned out about him like a slipped halo, for the top of his head was bald.
    “Heaven stone the crows!” the valet exclaimed. “What catastrophe has befallen us, sir?”
    “A catastrophe by the name of Miss Cora Applegate, Parker,” said Joss.
    The valet swallowed audibly, and his scalp shifted. “You’ll want a bath,” he said, shuffling off. “I shall see to it at once, sir.”
    Joss crossed the room and pulled back the draperies. The view was just as bleak from his window as it had been from the window in the yellow suite. Blowing snow erased the terrain at the foot of the tor from view. Land and sky were whitewashed so severely that he couldn’t detect where one stopped and the other began.
    Turning away from the frosted glass, he drew a ragged breath. He would not be able to send the coachman on his way until the snow stopped, and it didn’t show signs of letting up any time soon. It didn’t matter about thegirl, but something about Sikes did not sit well with him. It was ridiculous, of course, but still, the man made him ill at ease, and he would be glad to see the back of him.
    No matter what happened, Joss had his work cut out for him. It still remained to tell Miss Cora Applegate that her entire entourage had perished, and horribly. He did not relish that chore. Considering that he’d come away from their meeting bloodied, he shuddered to wonder if he would survive their next interview without broken bones.
    But not even that was paramount. He needed answers about the strangeness that kept coming over him. His parents were the key to that, but in their absence, there was Bates. He was anxious to question the butler, but not while the coachman was in residence. It had to be done in secrecy. It had been difficult enough over the years keeping his secret from the rest of the staff, let alone attempting to do it with an outsider of dubious origin underfoot. There was that nagging suspicion again, and again he shrugged it off. Whether he liked it or not, Joss was shackled with two houseguests until Mother Nature decreed otherwise. Deciding to begin preparations with a nice hot bath and a hearty breakfast before he bearded the lioness in her den again, he stalked off toward his dressing room to put that plan into motion.

C HAPTER F OUR
    “The young lady did this, did you say, sir?” Parker asked, doctoring the cut on his brow. He clicked his tongue and shook his head, making an attempt to cover the angry-looking gash with Joss’s hair. It was to no avail; Joss’s hair waved naturally in the opposite direction, and the valet soon threw up his hands in defeat. “Whatever provoked her?”
    Joss’s eyebrow inched up a notch. “Not I, Parker, I assure you,” he said. “Leave it. I shall have to go down as I