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that moment—all hard angles and set jaw, none of his charm or smooth speech. This Mr. Cross was the one she found difficult to resist.
    But why should she resist? She might never feel this way again.
    “Do you go to the library every night?” she asked.
    His lips parted. She heard a soft inhale. “It’s not a good idea, Olivia.” But his eyes betrayed him. They were locked on her mouth, dark even in the sunlight.
    “But sometimes bad ideas are quite enjoyable.”
    A huff of laughter. “I can’t argue that point.”
    “I think you want to say yes.”
    His rubbed his jaw. “Are you propositioning me? What exactly do you want?”
    “I want…” She forced herself to be honest. “I want to kiss you again.”
    His whole body went rigid. “And if neither of us can stop at a kiss?”
    She lifted one shoulder as though that possibility wasn’t of much consequence. And, in truth, it wasn’t. Maybe she should be more shocked at her own impulsiveness, but she’d spent her whole life not being impulsive—it was only natural that when she found something worth being impulsive for, the dam would break under the pressure.
    And in her opinion, the reward outweighed the risks. She’d begun to think more and more of her sisters and the love they’d found with their husbands. Even if any of the men her mother threw her in front of actually wanted to marry her, would she want to marry them ? A marriage without love sounded like the worst sort of fate, and she’d decided she wouldn’t subject herself to it, no matter how much her mother might try to cow her.
    But if her chances of wedded bliss were dismal, that didn’t mean her life had to flow into long years of chaste, emotionless spinsterhood. She could still have passion. She could still lose herself in William’s arms, as she had the night before. As she wanted to continue doing, for as many nights as she could.
    His eyes narrowed on her, glittering oddly. “Damnation,” he swore.
    She smiled. “Was that my answer?”
    He looked as baleful as an unfed cat, but he didn’t elaborate. He spun on his foot and continued toward the stables, leaving her to complete the last few steps to the house by herself.
    Before he was out of earshot, he said, over his shoulder, “You are trouble, Miss Middleton. I should have seen it.”

Chapter Five
    “Have you decided on a wife yet?” William asked as Ashworth lined up his shot. The gun blasted and recoiled, and a pheasant plummeted to the ground. The hunting dogs rushed forward to retrieve the fallen bird.
    Another pheasant was flushed out from the sound of the blast, and a few feet away, Lord Middleton raised his gun to shoot.
    William wondered what Olivia’s relationship with her father was like. Were they close? Did she tell him things she didn’t tell her mother? Was he proud of the woman she’d become?
    “I think I’ve narrowed down the field,” Ashworth answered.
    William shook his head with a smile. “You’re approaching it as a military campaign, then?”
    “In two years, I’ll be thirty,” his friend said. “My mother is pressuring me for an heir, and I don’t care about holding out for a love match.” He glanced pointedly at William at the last part.
    William wanted to groan. “If I’d realized how out of control things would become, I never would have said that I wouldn’t get married until I’d made a love match. Do you know how many white-dressed debutantes have thrown themselves at me, or been thrown at me?”
    “You enjoy the attention,” Ash scoffed.
    “Up to a point,” he admitted. “This went well beyond that point.”
    The men, by silent agreement, began to head back to the house. William and Ashworth fell to the back of the group as they talked.
    “To whom have you narrowed it down?”
    “Lady Sarah—”
    “Lovely face,” he commented. “Old family.”
    “And Miss Middleton.”
    His head shot up. He stared at his friend for several long seconds and tried to ignore the