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curves, ripe breasts, and swaying hips. He groaned.
     
    She tried to act cold to him during their dance, but only half succeeded. He felt her shivers and racing heartbeat through her hands and at the mere touch of her waist.
     
    She wanted him. He knew it. She denied it.
     
    He should turn away from his desire for her, but she was like a river of rushing water for a man dying of thirst. Miss Cassandra Chambers was his very own mirage. He wanted to drink, knowing it would never, could never, be enough.
     
    He tried to shake her away; remove her from his thoughts, his dreams, and his every waking moment, but found it impossible. He journeyed to London to seek relief for his pain, but only found emptiness.
     
    Lady Quartermane was happy to oblige him. He went to her bed, touched her body, kissed her lips, sank into her warm depths, but left feeling incomplete. Miss Chambers face never left his mind. It was her image he saw when he closed his eyes and thrust into Lady Quartermane's body. It was her voice he heard cry out when her body shattered into thousands pieces of light. Not Lady Quartermain. Miss Chambers. Cassandra. Cassie.
     
    He quit the room and wandered out to the patio to find a quiet corner, and a cold stone bench to rest his heated body. The bitter winds whipped his face and through his clothes. Exactly what he needed. He heard a moaning sound in the nearby bushes. Great. A lover's tryst. The sound increased to panting and mewling. Damn! He only wanted a moment of peace. He rose and started down the steps to the gardens below. He walked the path, passing Mr. and Mrs. Brumsfield, nodded a good evening, and carried on. He came to a small resting area with a couple of benches and took a seat.
     
    He had to remove Miss Chambers from his mind. He could not imagine how he would do that when he had to spend an entire day in her company next week. Why did he promise Anne to act as escort? Stephen should go. As the heir, the responsibilities of a local home for orphans will eventually fall onto brother's shoulders. Perhaps he should try to convince Stephen to take his place. He did not think he could endure an entire day Miss Chambers' company, knowing he could never touch her.
     
    He thought back to their kiss in the woods. He had not meant to kiss her. He could not say what overcame him. He had no right to taste her lips, to run his hands down her arms and back, but he could not help himself. He dreamed of her, wanted her, needed her. Why her ? Why did it have to be her?
     

 
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
     
    Cassie walked the short distance from the parish to Nightingale Hall. The imposing structure still struck her with awe. The white stone mansion sat far behind a long stretch of green lawn with a few trees scattered about. Great windows ran along the front of the house, and met in the middle near double doors as high as two tall men standing on top of one another. A footman opened the ironwork gates to let her enter. She walked up the winding drive until she reached the steps that carried her up to the door.
     
    "Good day, Randolph. I am here to meet with Lady Anne." She smiled at the old butler and handed him her coat and hat.
     
    "Good day, miss. Everyone is in the drawing room. I will announce you."
     
    Butterflies instantly fluttered in her tummy. Her mind tossed this encounter about since she danced with Lord William. She admitted she lied to herself, telling her heart she did not look forward to this day, when in truth, she did, and this fact disturbed her above all else.
     
    Of course, her tossing and tumbling night dreams did not help matters in the least. Last night she woke in the middle of the night with her entire body drenched in perspiration. She felt hot, needy, wanting for something she did not understand, but the oddest thing she could not figure out was the throbbing wetness down there. Just the thought of her dreams caused her face to flush hot. Oh, how she wished she was not so prone to