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transaction, had been a calamity for her in the loss of her home. She couldn’t help the antipathy she felt toward him for that. But that strong emotion was probably why everything else he made her feel was much more exaggerated.
    As she’d eaten, she had had trouble swallowing each bite. There had been so much churning going on in the region of her belly that she had feared she was going to heave right back up what little food she got down. And yet he had continued to stare. Most rude. Most nerve-racking. Yet because he had done so nearly the entire time she was with him, she had to conclude it wasn’t deliberate, wasn’t meant to discompose her, was probably just a normal, if rude, habit. Perhaps even a business tactic he had perfected and now unconsciously used in every aspect of his life.
    She had seen one merchant try such a tactic on her father once, staring pointedly at him in an effort to cause enough doubt that the price they were negotiating might be raised before verbal commitment was made. It hadn’t worked on her father, but it had been amusing to watch.
    It took several knocks before the sound broke through Larissa’s troubled thoughts and she rose to open the door. Vincent Everett stood there. She had just been hoping that she might be able to avoid any more encounters with him while she was here, yet there he was. And standing so close that she could smell the musky scent of him, feel the heat that he radiated—or was that the heat of her own embarrassment?
    She thought to step back, would have run to the far side of the room if it wouldn’t point out clearly to himhow much he disturbed her. The little space she did gain made no difference, though, because he was doing it again, staring. And such heat in those amber eyes! She had the impression of being completely stripped for his perusal. And the embarrassment was the same as if she really were standing there naked before him.
    “Your jewels.”
    She wondered briefly if he’d just said it, or was repeating himself. She wouldn’t be the least surprised.
    “Excuse me?”
    “I was afraid you might forget.” And the look he gave her now said he’d been right, she was a complete scatter-brain. “But I don’t want to be indirectly responsible for causing you any more distress, which would be the case if your jewels turn up missing.”
    That jogged her memory. “Oh, yes, the new servants that haven’t proven themselves yet. Just a moment.”
    She moved quickly to her three large trunks, which had been stacked neatly like a pyramid at the foot of the bed. Rummaging through the one on top didn’t reveal her jewel box, but unfortunately, it was the heaviest trunk, since it contained her personal books. This would have been no problem if she had time to unpack it first. But with the baron waiting at the door, it was necessary to move it out of the way to get into the two trunks below it.
    She knew very well she couldn’t lift the thing herself, but she could drag it off the top with a little effort, and started to do so. But the baron’s arms were suddenly on both sides of her, reaching for the handles on the ends of the trunk to move it for her.
    He should have said he would do it. He should have let her move out of the way first. Her heart slammed in her chest. She was trapped between him and the trunks, could feel his chest against her back, his breath on her neck. She was going to faint, she knew it, knew it, was going to expire right there on the spot.
    “Sorry,” he said after an unbearably long moment, and he moved one arm to let her out of his trap.
    Again her instinct was to bolt to the other side of the room, far, far away from him. She desperately wanted to, but she refused to let him think she was afraid of him, which was what he would surely think. He was the enemy, after all. And she wasn’t afraid, not really. What she felt was far more disturbing than fear.
    He set the heavy upper trunk aside, probably could have done so with one