She kissed the pulse in his throat, and her body shifted on his lap, an infinitesimal movement that nevertheless brought the blood surging into his loins. Her voice was musical as she murmured soft words of passion to him, weaving threads of enchantment around him and it took him a minute to hear exactly what this innocent, fragile little creature was saying. There was nothing in the least sweet and virginal about the words; they were the hungry, earthy words of passion and need that riveted him with their brazen sensuality, shocked him to his core as they dropped from the soft lips of this shyly smiling girl.

“You siren,” he whispered on a low throb of desire. She nibbled his lip, delicate little bites of the most exquisite sensuality, and her eyes were closed. Again she moved on his lap, but this time with more purpose so that she captured his erection between her thighs.

“Lift your skirt,” he demanded, his voice now a rasp of need.

Obediently, she raised herself just enough to pull the lace up over her hips. Her fingers moved on his waistband and his aching flesh sprang free. He caught her waist and swivelled her on his lap so that her back was to him. He slid his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her just sufficiently to drive into the pulsing warmth of her belly.

Tamsyn drew breath at the power of his thrusting flesh, rocking her on her perch, pressing against her womb, impaling her with his pleasure. He held her buttocks with bruising fingers as the whirling conflagration caught her, swept her up, exploded in her belly so she thought she was flying apart, and she heard his cry against her back as he yielded himself to the fire.

Flame crackled in the hearth, a candle spurted. Julian slowly came back to the room. Tamsyn had fallen back against his chest, lying as weak and weightless as a wounded bird.

“Sorceress,” he accused with a feeble chuckle when he could speak at all.

Tamsyn smiled weakly. “I can play many parts, milord colonel.”

“Don't I know it.” He kissed the top of her shining head. “And now I'd like you to feed me some more oysters.”

“I am here only to serve you, my lord,” she said demurely, sliding off his knee. “Your word is my command.”

Julian stretched luxuriously, and a slow, lazy smile played over his mouth. “I can think of many commands, buttercup. I foresee a long night.”

It was a very long night, and Tamsyn had been asleep for barely half an hour when her internal clock woke her just before daybreak. Julian was deeply asleep, sprawled on his stomach beside her, his red-gold hair thick on the pillow.

She slid out of bed, barely disturbing the covers, and crept out of the bed hangings into the dark room. She was used to moving around at night, and her eyes accustomed themselves quickly to the darkness. The remnants of their picnic still sat on the table, and the heavy furniture was disarrayed. She smiled reminiscently as she dressed hastily in her riding britches. The colonel's commands had involved a fair degree of gymnastics on occasion.

She was ready in five minutes, then sat down at the secretaire to write him a note. Somehow she had to produce a convincing reason for sliding off in the night without telling him. Maybe he wouldn't have insisted on coming back to Cornwall with them, but he might have, and she didn't want him anywhere in the vicinity when she tidied up her loose ends with Cedric Penhallan.

Milord colonel:

We have to return to Cornwall to collect Josefa and the treasure, and Gabriel has something to do for himself. We’ll return here two weeks from today. I know you have work to do in London, so I didn't want you to feel that you should have offered to come with us. Two weeks today, I shall be yours to command again. Besos.

She read it through quickly. It would have to do. If he was vexed that she'd disappeared as abruptly as she'd arrived, then she would make it up to him when she returned. At least he would have something to remember in the meantime.

She rolled the paper and with a little smile tied it with the ivory velvet ribbon she'd had in her hair. Then she tiptoed back to the bed and placed it carefully on the pillow beside his head.

Julian mumbled in his sleep and turned onto his back, his arms flung wide. Tamsyn resisted the urge to push aside the unruly lock of hair and press her lips to his broad brow. He slept like a soldier, she knew, and the slightest touch would waken him.

She crept out of the room, hurried down the stairs in the silent house, into the book room at the rear. She flung up the low window, scrambled over the sill, and dropped to the soft, damp earth beneath.

Gabriel was waiting in the mews, holding Cesar's reins. He greeted her with a nod. “All well, bairn?”

“All's well.” She sprang into the saddle. Five days should see 'them back at Tregarthan. Her confrontation with Cedric would take no more than an hour or two. The horses would need a day to rest. And then they would return, and she would concentrate all her forces on the bastion that was Colonel, Lord Julian St. Simon.

And if she failed to breach the walls, then she'd settle for what he could give her for as long as he was prepared to give it.

It was broad daylight when Julian awoke. He read the note in disbelief and growing anger. For hours she'd played the most elaborate game of seduction, showing him a side of herself he wouldn't have believed possible. But she was still a goddamned brigand! Why couldn't she be simple and straightforward? Why in the world would she slide out in the middle of the night to do something as simple as fetching her luggage and Josefa?

Uneasiness prickled his spine. Why would she? Not even Tamsyn thrived on unorthodox manoeuvres to the extent that she'd choose to leave like that without some good reason.

And he could think of only one reason: she didn't want him with her on the journey. She'd given him a night to remember, while deliberately planning to slip from his bed and be on her way while he was asleep. It made no sense at all that she would do something that devious when she was simply going back to Tregarthan to collect Josefa and her treasure.

Despite her denial, was she going back to try one last time to discover something about her mother's family? Had she perhaps found a clue that she wanted to follow up before finally leaving England?

From what he knew of Tamsyn, it made more sense that she would try to finish what she'd come there to do than that she would meekly give it up because he'd asked her to. Oh, he believed she intended to return to Spain with him. But she was going to do something first.

Damn the woman for an obstinate, devious hellion! And he couldn't go after her until he'd completed the formal arrangements for their passage from Portsmouth. If he was really persistent, prepared to hang around in corridors waiting for an audience, prepared to push ruthlessly through the obstructive layers of the bureaucracy, he could probably have the documents in his hand by the end of the day. But he couldn't then start his pursuit at night, so he would lose twenty-four hours.

Why was he so uneasy? He frowned, staring around the dishevelled room in anxious vexation. Even if she had some idea about the Penhallans, the worst that could happen was that she would face Cedric and he'd humiliate her with his scorn. What could possibly happen in twenty-four hours at Tregarthan? And she had Gabriel with her.