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she had little choice, for Larenz was clearly the kind of man who was used to getting his own way. And she was tired of fighting; she was exhausted already. After breakfast she’d fob him off with the list of errands she had to do. She couldn’t quite see him tagging along while she dug for the last potatoes or raked over the gravel that Amelie had sprayed everywhere.
    ‘Fine,’ she said curtly and then, because it was obvious he had no intention of being an ordinary guest, she threw over her shoulder, ‘we can eat in the kitchen.’
    Ellery fixed herself a plate of eggs and mushrooms while Larenz took a seat at the big scrubbed pine table. He popped a mushroom into his mouth and surveyed the huge room with its original fireplace big enough to roast an ox and the bank of windows letting in the pale morning sunshine.
    ‘I’d say this was quite cosy,’ he murmured, ‘except this table could seat a round dozen. And I imagine it once did, in this house’s heyday.’ He smiled, raising his eyebrows. ‘When was that?’
    Ellery stiffened. ‘The house’s heyday?’ she repeated and then, to her surprise and dismay, she sighed, the sound all too wistful and revealing. ‘Probably some time in the seventeenth century. I think the Dunants were originally Puritans in good standing with Cromwell.’
    ‘And did they lose it all in the Restoration?’
    Ellery shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. They changed sides a dozen times or more.’ She reached for two heavy china mugs and poured coffee. ‘The Dunants aren’t particularly known for being faithful.’ Too late she heard the spite and bitterness in her voice and closed her eyes, hoping Larenz hadn’t heard it, too. Yet, even without turning around, she knew he had; he was far too perceptive for his own good—or hers.
    ‘Here.’ She placed a mug of coffee in front of him on the table and then walked around to her own seat, all the way on the other end of the table. It looked a little ridiculous for them to be sitting so far apart but Ellery didn’t care. She wasn’t about to give Larenz any excuse to touch her.
    Even if you want him to…
    Ellery just barely kept from closing her eyes again. It was a good thing Larenz de Luca wasn’t capable of mind reading—except when she looked at him and saw that faint knowing smile on his face she felt as if he was.
    ‘Thank you,’ he murmured and took a sip of coffee. Ellery began to eat her eggs with grim determination. She didn’t want to talk to Larenz, didn’t want him to flirt or tease or tempt her. Yet, even as these thoughts flitted through her mind and her eggs turned rubbery and tasteless in her mouth, Ellery knew she was already tempted. Badly. She thought of how Larenz’s flutter of fingers on her wrist, skin sliding on skin, had jolted her, an electric current wired directly to her soul.
    Except, Ellery thought as she speared a mushroom, souls had nothing to do with it; the temptation she felt for Larenz de Luca was purely, utterly physical. It had to be, for he was exactly the kind of man she despised. The kind of man her father had been.
    She glanced up from her breakfast to look at Larenz, to drink him in, for he really was the most amazingly beautiful man. Her gaze lingered on the straight line of his nose, the slashes of his dark brows, those full moulded lips—she imagined those lips touching her, even somewhere seemingly innocuous, like where his fingers had been, on her wrist—and she nearly shuddered aloud.
    ‘Is something wrong?’ Larenz asked. He lifted his mug to take a sip of coffee and his eyes danced over its rim.
    ‘What do you mean?’ Ellery asked sharply. She returned her fork to her plate with a clatter. She’d been caught staring, of course, and she pulled her lip between her teeth, nipping hard, at the realization.
    Larenz lowered his mug. His eyes still danced. ‘It’s just you looked a bit—pained.’
    ‘Pained?’ Ellery repeated. She rose abruptly from the table and grabbed