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escape him. She lacked the strength to resist the pull she felt toward him.
    Two hands closed around her waist, drawing a gasp from her startled lips. Synclair lifted her easily to the back of her mare, his lips twitching with amusement when she stared into his eyes with astonishment. Many a man boasted of his strength, but there were few who might actually prove it. Among those, she had rarely discovered one who knew how to control his grip such as Synclair seemed able to do. His embrace had been solid, yet painless. She felt her resolve weakening even further because to have a man that was considerate of his strength for a lover must be pure delight.
    It was something she must not allow herself to taste, but she saw in his eyes the intention to make his touch intimate. Synclair didn’t hide it from her, and let her view the desire darkening his eyes. A chill went down her back, spreading out over her skin until it reached her breasts. Behind her corset, her nipples drew into hard beads, startling her with the quickness of the response.
    â€œYou should not.” She didn’t finish her warning because it was too difficult to form into words what she wanted him to refrain from doing, and she feared that her voice betrayed her growing desire. It was more than his touch, it was the way his blue eyes probed hers and the way her belly tightened just because she knew he was closing the distance between them.
    â€œAnd you should not protest when you enjoyed my kiss so well.”
    Her hand gripped his, where it still sat at her waist, prying at his fingers to remove them, but he captured only her hand, pulling his fingers along her bare palm before relinquishing his hold on her.
    â€œIt is a pity we were interrupted, Justina. I promise to remedy that.”
    Her eyes widened once again and she scoffed at herself. Such lack of control was unlike her and destined to land her in a great deal of misery.
    â€œDo not. There is nothing for us to talk about.”
    Synclair moved to his horse and gained the saddle in another fluid motion that left no doubt about how much strength the man had in his body. The stallion turned in a circle, demonstrating that it was a fit mount for the knight who rode him. The animal snorted, shaking its head while pawing at the ground with eager anticipation.
    â€œI disagree, Justina.”
    Only three words, but they sounded like a sentence being issued by a magistrate. She felt them as much as she heard them, her body quivering with trepidation. Synclair shot a hard look at her before giving his stallion its freedom. The animal surged forward and her mare followed instantly. She tried to pull the reins up to slow the mare, but heard Synclair chuckle in response to her efforts.
    â€œThe mare has more wisdom than you, Justina.” He turned to look at her. “She does not fight against what she craves.”
    The mare was increasing her speed to catch the stallion, and the stallion tossed its head again to encourage the mare. Justina felt her face turn red with her temper.
    She was not a mare.
    Lust would not control her, not now, not ever. She refused to crumple in the face of her emotions. Even if she did enjoy his kiss, there was nothing to be gained from yielding to such pleasure. The only thing that would happen would be more despair when the viscount decided to whom she would be sent. She would be tormented by the lack of enjoyment she found in that bed, because she would now know what it felt like to enjoy being kissed.
    Better to never know. It would be far wiser for her to bury the need clamoring inside her so deeply that it might never rise up to tempt her.
    Better ... wiser ... and more lonely than she had ever felt.
    Yet that was the way life was.
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    Biddeford was waiting in her chambers again. Whitehall Palace had several secret passageways, and she had been placed in her current chambers to ensure that the man might come and go without being witnessed. Still trying to