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care in the world. It surprised her to see him showing
this
much passion.
    “I don’t understand why you’re so annoyed,” she said. “No one knows that Rockton is . . . partly you. No one has even guessed.”
    “Only because you haven’t given them enough hints,” he bit out. “It’s very clever of you to use
me.
Anybody else would sue you for libel, but you know I won’t because I don’t want peoplelooking too closely into my secrets. So you think you can put whatever you want about me in your books with impunity.”
    “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, Mr. Masters.”
    “Am I? When were you planning to put the theft into your books? The next chapter, perhaps?”
    “I promised to keep silent about that, and I will.”
    “Why should I believe you? You haven’t kept silent about any of the rest of it.”
    She glared up at him. “What do you want from me?”
    There was a subtle change in his manner, from anger to something far more disturbing. Awareness of her as a woman, one he could seduce. It was just like that night at the Valentine’s Ball when they’d danced, when his flirtations had heated her blood while leaving him unmoved. Curse him for that.
    He cast her a veiled glance. “What I want is to know
why.
Why you decided to put me in your books as the villain. Why you decided to make me a central character in your most recent novels.”
    “That . . . just happened. When Rockton first appeared, readers wrote me several letters about him, wanting to see more of him.”
    “Because you draw him in such loving detail. But why does he capture your imagination so? And why do you keep attributing to him things that
I
said and did? Were you so very angry at me over how I treated you that night?”
    “It has nothing to do with you personally—”
    “Liar.” He bent close to press his mouth to her ear. “Admit it—you put me in your books because you can’t forget me.”
    She jerked back. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
    “And God knows, I can’t forget you.”
    For a moment, she actually believed him, and her heart faltered.
    Then she cursed it for its fickleness. The last thing she needed right now was her own private version of Rockton mucking with her determined spinsterhood. Especially when he didn’t mean any of his smooth words. According to her brothers, his casual treatment of women was legendary.
    Slipping past him, she went to stand at the window that looked out onto the courtyard. “Why are you here? If it’s to berate me for putting you in my books, you’ve accomplished your aim, so you might as well leave. You’re certainly not here for any interview—”
    “Actually, you’re wrong.”
    She whirled on him.
    Seeming to enjoy her look of confusion, he sauntered toward her with a smile. “Here’s the situation, Minerva. It’s obvious to me that you’re going to plague your grandmother with increasingly reckless behavior until you get what you want from her. And what would be more outrageous than to expose me as Rockton, so you can create a scandal like the one Lady Caroline Lamb did with her novel about Lord Byron?”
    She bristled. “I would never—”
    “So I can’t really trust you not to keep writing about me. I’m not sure I can even trust you to keep quiet about who Rockton is. That leaves me with two choices, if I want to keep my secrets safe. I can murder you to keep you silent. Not a good choice at all. No matter how you treat it in your novels, murder is messy. Not to mention illegal.”
    A shiver swept her. “And the other choice?”
    The sudden glitter in his eyes did nothing to quell the pounding in her chest. “I can marry you.”

Chapter Two

    To Giles’s great surprise, Minerva burst into laughter. “You? As my husband? Are you mad?”
    He hadn’t expected wild enthusiasm, but incredulity wasn’t what he’d been aiming for, either. “Quite possibly.”
    He’d spent the journey over here rehearsing what to say, how to approach Minerva,