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fibre of my being, that Roman pulled me onto the Kleighnorm account, brought me here, for an entirely personal reason. What he’ll do with me, to me, now that he has me exactly where he wants me, is another matter altogether.
    “Maggie,” Connor bellows, the echo of his voice resounding in the double-volume hallway. “Maggie, where are you, woman… Ah, Maggie…” He lowers his voice as a tiny woman bustles around the corner. “Our guests have arrived.”
    “So I see, Connor,” Maggie says in a no-nonsense voice to match her bustle.
    She’s reed-thin, barely reaches my shoulder and can’t be much younger than Connor, whom I’ve placed close to seventy. Which is why, despite his solid frame, I decline his offer and roll my own suitcase along the flagstone floor after Maggie.
    “Once you’ve settled,” Connor calls out, “you’ll find us in the library.”
    “We won’t be long,” Liam assures him.
    We’re each shown to our own suite in the guest wing. Along the way, Maggie informs us that she’s the housekeeper and we mustn’t hesitate to ask for anything we need. Just inside the door of my room, there’s a silk-corded bell to tug that will, apparently, bring someone running.
    I slap Liam’s hand away as he reaches for it. “Seriously?”
    A wide grin cracks his jaw. “Just testing.”
    “Go play in your own room,” I order, shooing him out.
    Alone, I take a long moment to gawk at my accommodation.
    The high ceiling frescoed with cherubs and forest sprites.
    The four-poster bed.
    A seating arrangement in one corner comprising of a brocade upholstered sofa and armchair around a table carved from chunky wood.
    A fireplace, unlit, although the room is warm, centrally heated by a radiator that runs the full length of the room. I suspect Kleighnorm’s heating bill for one month would put a nice dent in my student loan.
    I shrug my coat off, but don’t change clothes. I’m snug in my jeans, long-sleeve tee and cardigan. If Roman wants to slide his fingers anywhere, I plan to make him work for it.
    The en-suite bathroom has a claw-foot tub and a full-length, stand-alone cheval mirror. As tempting as a hot bath is, the man waiting below tempts me more. I freshen quickly, and then I’m out in the passage, rapping on Liam’s door.
    No answer.
    Opening the door, I hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.
    “It’s the middle of the day,” I call out, shaking my head on a smile.
    Liam’s muffled voice calls back, “You told me to play.”
    “I’ll see you downstairs,” I tell him, backing out the room and closing the door behind me.
    My hands are clammy as I make my way along the passage and down the stairs.
    Butterflies ripple my pulse.
    I have no idea what comes next, but I do know it will be intense.
    Although my body has developed dark cravings for the gorgeous Roman Rocchi, that’s not to say the man doesn’t infuriate me. He’s certain to provoke me with his particular brand of outlandish…and then he’ll make the flare of instant rage totally worth my while.
    I should be worried. I’m not even blushing at my scandalous predictions.
    The rumble of male laughter draws me in the right direction, through doors thrown wide open directly off the entrance hall. The library is clearly a man’s domain, furnished in padded leather and worn down through the ages. The walls are panelled oak and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
    A roaring fire crackles from a giant hearth and that’s where my searching gaze finds Roman. Standing before the flickering flames in full-blown elegant disgrace.
    His jacket has been discarded, but he’s wearing tailored charcoal trousers. The top button of his crisp white shirt is undone, his deep blue silk tie tugged slightly loose. His jaw dips as he shoves a hand through his hair, grazes my desire with a look that sinks into me, and hits me with a smile.
    An honest to God smile.
    “Ms. Lynch,” he greets in gravelly accented tones. “I trust you had a