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jerked her head to the side in an effort to find a prudent place to look, and found their reflection in the mirror mounted above a walnut dresser on the opposite wall. His eyes met hers in the reflection, and her lovely face turned even pinker than before.
    Her skirt was tangled around her legs, one of her combs had come loose and a few curls brushed her cheek. Lucien squelched the urge to reach out and brush that hair away from her face, to put both arms around her and hold her in place.
    He did nothing. He knew full well that his assistance was not wanted, at the moment. Not the kind of assistance he wished to offer, in any case. As a flustered Eve struggled to get off him, her delicate hand accidentally landed where it had never been before.
    Unlike Viola, Eve was wonderfully, arousingly warm.
    If Eve hadn't been wearing a corset, she might have been able to scoot off the bed quickly. But she was so tightly bound she could probably barely breathe, much less move quickly. Lucien placed the flat of his palm against her back, as her hand very quickly moved down and away. Her fingers brushed against his thigh, and again her hand made a quick twist of attempted escape. Her body was crushed to his, but she definitely did not want to touch him.
    In the past they had kissed, nothing more. Stolen kisses, full of promise and light. Their engagement had been short, less than three months, and his work had taken him away from her for weeks. A full month, once. At the time, waiting for the wedding night to take Eve into his bed had seemed like the honorable thing to do.
    Now he wished they had not waited. He was afraid he would never know what it was like to lie in bed with the woman he loved beneath him. He wanted to know what Eve looked like with her hair down and those prim clothes of hers tossed aside. He wanted her naked beneath him, atop him, all around. He wanted to make love to her, to hold her, to sleep with her. If she truly didn't love him anymore, none of that would ever happen. This awkward moment would be the only time he'd ever have Eve in his bed.
    He could probably help her up, but he didn't. She'd likely just slap his hand if he tried to assist her in any way. Truth be told, he wasn't quite ready to let her go. If he had his way, he'd never let her go.
    "Why are you here, Evie?" he asked, his voice low.
    With one knee on the edge of the mattress, she was finally able to gain some control and lift her body off his. Immediately, he missed the weight and warmth of her.
    "I heard you shout," she said.
    Lucien smiled. "And you were worried? You rushed up here to save me from Viola?"
    Her lips pursed as she very cautiously scooted to the side. "Of course not. I was simply curious. I didn't think Viola and Alistair were about during the day."
    "Oh, they're about," Lucien said absently. "At least, Viola is."
    Eve sat on the side of the bed, catching her breath and placing a slightly trembling hand to her mussed hair. Her face was still flushed, and while he could not hear it, he was quite sure her heart pounded hard and fast.
    Two years was too long. "Evie," he said softly, "I've missed you."
    He would have thought her completely unaffected by his confession, if her lower lip didn't tremble. "You should have thought of that before you left me waiting..."
    "I made a mistake," he interrupted. "I forgot the date. I never forgot you." He reached out and gently grasped her wrist. "Never."
    Eve left the bed quickly, snatching her arm away and heading for the door without glancing back. "Don't you have a nightshirt?" she asked, completely ignoring his heartfelt declaration. "A decent man would wear a nightshirt to bed."
    "Of course I have a nightshirt," he said, angry and embarrassed and... lost. "I just forgot to pack it."
    "Of course you did," Eve muttered as she rushed out the door, slamming it closed behind her.
    Lucien sighed deeply. "But I never forgot you." Damn.

 
     
     
    Chapter 4

     
    Justina Markham arrived shortly