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but didn’t really notice as he stepped from her chamber and left her alone. She stared at her mirror again, but this time saw how bright her eyes and pink her cheeks were. She looked girlishly excited and she frowned.
    This expression shared too much. She had to be what she always was: calm, collected, an experienced mistress. Benedict would expect no less of her. And she could be no more.
    She covered her cheeks with cool hands to sooth them and drew a deep, calming breath.
    “This is nothing,” she reminded herself in a firm tone. “Just a tryst with an old lover, something you’ve done before without any consequence. This is just a way to cross Benedict from your list and move on with your life.”
    The words fell from her lips, her face calmed, but deep inside she did not believe or feel that coldness she expressed. With Benedict there had always been more than erotic connection. That was why she had broken with him, after all.
    She turned from the mirror, turned from her thoughts and moved to the adjoining door. It connected to another plain chamber and through that was the room she shared with her lovers. She sucked in a breath, opened the door and skidded to a halt.
    Benedict was standing across the room at the window, half turned toward what would have been a pretty view of her garden had it not been the middle of the night. He had already removed his jacket and draped it across the back of a chair near him. His cravat was also draped there. His dark hair was tousled, proof that he had been running his fingers through it during his wait for her arrival, and as he turned to face her, she saw that the first few buttons of his shirt had been undone.
    Her knees began to shake, not because he was beautiful, which he had always been, but because coming into this room with him here waiting for her…it was like coming home.
    A home she could not have. A home she had claimed she didn’t want. And yet it slapped her in the face and stole all attempts she could make to be cool and collected in the face of his arrival.
    It also stole her control. She had intended to speak to Benedict before anything else, but now she found herself crossing the room to him, her arms lifting around his neck like she did not control them, and then they were kissing.
    His mouth was hot on hers, his lips tasted faintly of whiskey and his tongue felt like flame as it breached her and he claimed her with that touch. Her mind emptied, thoughts replaced by rushing blood and the sensation of her body readying for him. Already her nipples tingled beneath her thin night rail and her thighs were damp with desire.
    “Vivien,” he breathed between kisses, even as he backed her toward the big bed.
    When her backside hit the edge, she sucked in a breath. Suddenly this was reality and she reveled in it after fantasizing over this very moment for so long.
    But as she looked up at Benedict, she could not read his thoughts. His gaze, which had once been so open, was clouded, revealing only desire but nothing deeper. And even though it was better that way, she felt a twinge of regret that she could no longer see his love for her.
    She swept the regret away and lifted her trembling fingers to his shirt. With a few movements, she had opened it and let her nails rake across the tone muscles of his belly. Both of them sucked in a breath at the sensation and Benedict dipped his head against his shoulders for a brief moment as she touched him.
    She remembered every way he liked to be touched. It was burned on her like a brand and she leaned forward to press her lips to his chest. He groaned as she sucked one flat nipple between her lips and swirled her tongue around the disc. She felt his cock swell against her thigh and her breath grew short with excitement.
    As she sucked and teased him, he went to work on the few items of clothing separating their bodies. Her robe was pushed away first. When he needed to push the fabric over her shoulders, it forced her from her