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she didn’t finish the story he might provide his own ending. He tugged on his trousers.
    The minx dropped her gaze demurely to his crotch. She glanced up in a hurry. “How flattering to think that my little story could entertain a man with your history.” She brought both of her hands up and caressed her long, graceful neck. “Thomas would start at my throat and then he would massage lower, his rough hands making my skin tingle.” Her pink tongue traced over her upper lip as her hands smoothed over her shoulders and the tops of her round, alabaster breasts. “He would insist that I part my legs until they nearly trembled. And then he would touch me here.” Now her hand pressed provocatively at the vee at the top of her thighs so teasingly veiled by her dress. “There were times, of course, that I would play coy—” she fluttered her sable lashes, “—and then Thomas would call for assistance. One man would hold me down while the other explored.”
    Ryder could not suppress a groan as his erection pushed against the fabric of his snug-fitting trousers.
    “Of course, the rest you can imagine,” she said with a sweet smile. With feline grace, she lifted herself off the bench and smoothed her dress down.
    A new, thoroughly possessive feeling overtook him. He leapt to his feet. “And did you do all this while married to me?”
    “Surely, the idea doesn’t offend you? When you believed me Lewis’s wife you thought he should share me without complaint.”
    The fog of opium had completely dissipated and his emotions were intensifying. He felt an acute stab of jealousy. “I asked you a question, woman. Did you couple with those men while bound to me?”

    “You wish it so, I am sure, so that you can more easily dissolve the marriage. I am sorry to disappoint you then, because I’ve made the whole thing up. I taught Thomas’s children to read, so he gave me Titus.” Her beautiful green eyes were glossed with tears. She picked up her skirt and raced back to the garden.

    

    Jessie was sobbing by the time she dashed into the ancient courtyard. The surrounding walls were crumbling, but the flowering vines she had planted to cover them made it an inviting place to sit and read, or in this situation to hide.
    She pressed her heated face against the cool stone wall. Suggesting that she had made a whore of herself to get a horse still made her shake with rage. But it had been dangerous to trifle with such a daunting man. Especially one who had complete control over her future. The saucy flirting had been a reckless experiment that she ought not have tried.
    How had she dared that performance? She knew nothing of sexual matters beyond what she’d witnessed while traveling the world with her parents. On a few occasions, she’d spied erotic rituals performed by members of native tribes.
    Avenging her honor had proved almost too successful. When he’d groaned, she was sure she’d gone too far. She’d feared he would snatch her up and ravish her there on the lawn. But she’d been similarly affected. The hunger in his violet-blue eyes had sent warmth spiraling in her lower belly.
    Jessie walked over to the marble urn planted with yellow roses. She plucked off a wilted blossom and stroked the soft petals over her wet cheeks. Suddenly, her skin prickled. She could feel the heat of him at her back. Pivoting to face him, she found herself staring at his chest. Lord Blackwood reached around her and removed a dying bloom as well. He enfolded it in his big fist. She understood the message—he could crush her as easily as the rose. She craned her neck to look up into his face. His eyes were narrowed in angry warning.
    “What game are you playing, woman?”
    “I have no idea what you mean,” she said and took a small step to the side. If she needed to run she wasn’t about to plow through her patch of lavender. It had taken her too long to grow.

    “You know damn well what I mean.” He slowly opened his hand and the