Nick shifted his hold on her wrists, taking them both in one hand, then bringing his now-freed hand 'round to catch her chin. With infinite slowness, he lowered his head to kiss her mouth as he had done last evening, lingering and tender, until the sunshine spread through her again, and the blood danced in her veins.

"Aye," he said softly. "You must leave here, my flower. But not as a consequence of that tantrum."

"Why, then?" Her voice sounded cracked and not at all like her own. He still held her, and the imprint of his lips upon hers seemed indelible.

"You know why," he said, his eyes a burning probe that struck deep within her, questing and finding the truth for them both.

Yes, she did know why. If, as now seemed clear, he would take her to his bed, he would not do it in this house. "But why now?" Still the puzzle remained. "Why would you wait for so long? I have been willing, but you said you did not-"

"I said I did not want a part of the exchange you had in mind," he interrupted quietly. "I wished to wait until you felt what you feel now." He brushed a wisp of hair off her forehead. "Do you understand me?"

The bewildering contradictions seemed to be making a pattern; the conundrum offered its solution. Polly swallowed. "I do not quite understand why such a thing should be important to you, sir."

"Do you not? Then you have much to learn about the ways of loving, sweetheart." He smiled, but there was a gravity in his intent gaze that held her spellbound. "I would have that which no man has yet taken…"A finger moved to trace the long, sensuous line of her lower lip. The tip of her tongue darted, dampening his finger in a gesture that was as artless as it was enticing. He drew a long, slow breath, losing himself in the glowing hazel pools as he lifted a strand of hair from her bosom, twisting it absently around his finger. "But I would have you render it joyfully, and in free spirit." He watched her, saw the contemplation of his words lead to comprehension. "Well, moppet?" he prompted softly. "How do you answer me?"

It was this that he had been promising with those caresses and the deep, glowing intensity of his gaze; this that she had been wanting with a powerful, but until now indefinable, longing. Polly found she could not answer him. Words stuck in her throat, and she looked helplessly into that searching but smiling countenance. She noticed the way his wayward red-gold eyebrows flew upward at the edges, the curl of his eyelashes, the blue flames simmering in the emerald depths of his eyes.

"I will have your answer," he said, low but insistent. "Will you render me what I ask, joyfully and in free spirit?"

Polly moistened her lips, swallowed in an effort to lubricate her parched throat. He would have her declare this desire that she had not recognized until this moment. He was not asking her simply to agree to yield her body in payment for his assistance. It was not a whore he wanted, bought and paid for, but a lover. That illumination loosened her tongue,

set the blood to resume its customary speed and course through her veins.

"Joyfully and in free spirit," she returned without a quaver.

"Ahhh." It was a long-drawn-out sound of quiet satisfaction. His lips hovered above hers, and Polly waited breathlessly. But with a laugh he straightened, letting the strand of hair he held drop back to her breast. "Perhaps not. I am of a mind to sharpen the appetite with a little procrastination." Polly's pout of disappointment brought the laughter dancing again in his eyes. Releasing his warm grasp of her wrists, he went to pull the bell rope by the hearth.

Young Tom appeared, breathless in his haste to answer the summons, his eyes darting with fascinated speculation at Polly. The entire household was buzzing with the story of the enormity of Polly's behavior-behavior that could not conceivably go unpunished. Lady Margaret might even call the constable, Bridget said. Assault on the mistress, it had been. The master would surely have to take my lady's part this time. But as far as Tom could see, Polly showed no ill effects from having been closeted with his lordship for above a half hour. Indeed, far from being red-eyed with weeping, she was smiling.

"Send a message to the stables, Tom," Kincaid instructed the lad. "I want the carriage brought 'round in twenty minutes."

"Yes, m'lord." Tom backed to the door, his eyes still on Polly. She dropped one eyelid in an unmistakable wink, and his gaze widened in amazement.

"I do not think Tom expected to find me in one piece," she observed with a chuckle as the door closed.

Nick, opening the little drawer in his desk where he kept his strongbox, looked up and observed, " 'Twas fortunate I was here. Nothing I have said in the past would have prevented Margaret's laying her stick across your shoulders with unbridled venom, I fear."

"I would not have done it had you not been here," Polly replied. "I am not such a fool as to court danger."

Nick unlocked the box, turning his attention to the contents. Maybe she would not knowingly court danger, but he was conspiring to expose her to the possibility of a threat much greater than any posed by Margaret and her hazel stick-the penalty for conspiring to bring about the downfall of one of the most powerful men in the land. If she was discovered, she would pay that penalty whether she had been spying wittingly or no. But he would not allow the conspirator's concerns to intrude on those of the lover-not at this juncture. He drew out a purse of golden guineas, dropping it into his coat pocket. When a man contemplated a night's absence from his home, it was well to be prepared.

"Run abovestairs, moppet, and pack up your belongings," he instructed. "The carriage will be here shortly."

"We go to find lodgings?" Polly asked, glancing out of the window, where snowflakes drifted, breaking loose from the leaden sky. " 'Tis snowing."

"The lodgings are found." Nick's eyes followed hers. "We'll be snug and warm before that becomes serious."

"But when were they found?" Bewilderment crept up on her again. "I thought you had only just decided-"

"Did you now?" His smile wras teasing. "Then you were mistaken, my love. Now, begone and collect your things. I do not wish to delay overlong."

Polly, devoutly hoping that she would not come face-to-face with the Lady Margaret, left the parlor. The hall was empty, and despite her knowledge of his lordship's protection and her own new status, she could not prevent herself from scurrying like a field mouse up the stairs and into the privacy of the servant's attics.

She had little enough to gather up: just the clothes that Kincaid had bought her at the Royal Exchange, a comb and a few ribbons she had bought for herself on the same day with the sovereign, and a piece of lace that she had bought from Big Rob that morning with her last remaining pennies. She was wrapping her worldly goods into a bundle when the door creaked open. She swung 'round nervously, but it was Sue who crept in.

"Y'are going to be all right, Polly?" she asked in a hesitant whisper. " 'Tis said that her la'ship is turning you off without a character. What will ye do?"

"I can tell you, Sue, I want no truck with any of Lady Margaret's characters," Polly declared, sitting upon the bed with a mischievous smile. "Think how tedious 'twould be to be of a character to suit the Puritan."

"Oh, Polly, y'are awful. Ye shouldn't say such things. 'Tis so disrespectful!" gasped Sue, her hand over her mouth, although her eyes danced responsively.

1 'Twas not exactly respectful to throw a bucket of dirty water at her," Polly said airily. "Oh, you should have seen her face, Sue!" She went into a peal of laughter. "But I cannot tell you what I am going to do because you will be shocked." This morning's discussion about brazen hussies of Covent Garden breeding was not easily forgotten. For all that Polly knew that matters were not to be so conducted, she knew that Sue and her like would not draw the fine distinctions when it came to carnal pleasures enjoyed without the sanction of a wedding ring.