"I fear I do not understand, my dear. We already have a legitimate connection of a romantic nature."

She whirled around, glowering in exasperation. "I thought you a man of the world, sir. Pray, pay attention. As there is no possibility of a marriage between us and as I have fallen quite hopelessly in love with you, I have come up with the notion of offering you a… a liaison."

"A liaison?" He gazed at her quizzically.

"I am offering you an affair, you blockhead." Emily sucked in a horrified breath as she realized what she had just said. She closed her eyes in mortification. Her face flamed. "My lord, forgive me. I did not mean to call you a blockhead. I fear my nerves are quite overset and I must own that I have something of a temper. Occasionally it gets the better of me."

"You are obviously a woman of strong passions, just as Prendergast observed."

"And you are obviously a man who appears to be amused at the oddest things." She put down her brandy glass. Clearly she'd had more than enough to drink. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her dressing gown. "Well?" she demanded testily. "What about my offer?"

The earl straightened slowly and set aside his empty glass. He crossed the room to where she stood, his strong hands closing warmly around her shoulders. "Emily, my dear, please be assured that I am deeply honored by your charming offer."

Her heart sank. "But?"

"But I think that, as you are a creature of excessive passion and possessed of a spirited romantic temperament, it would be best if you allowed me to guide you in this matter."

"Why?" she asked baldly. "Do you think you can be cold-blooded about this sort of thing the way you try to be about everything else?"

"Those who know me will tell you I can and usually am quite cold-blooded about everything. Be warned, Emily."

"Fustian. It is just an attitude you affect. It is no use trying to tell me you are cold-blooded because I know the truth. Do not forget I have learned a great deal about you from your letters, my lord. Our thoughts have met and mingled on a higher plane. We have looked deeply into each other's souls."

"Believe what you wish, my dear. Nevertheless, you will allow that, if nothing else, I am older than you and have seen far more of the world."

"No doubt. I have been stuck in Little Dippington all of my life."

"Then you will grant me the advantage of wider experience and allow me to make the decisions regarding the course of our future relationship."

"I will?"

"Yes, Emily," he said quite gently. "You will." He bent his head and kissed the tip of her nose. "I am convinced it would be best if you wait until your wedding night before you surrender completely to another bout of excessive romantic passion."

"Then I shall wait forever, my lord," she snapped, "because I certainly do not intend to wed Elias Prendergast and he is about the only one who is likely to offer for me."

"No, my dear, he is not. I am going to offer for you. Just as soon as your father returns to Little Dippington."

Emily looked up at him in blank incomprehension. "You are going to offer for me? But, my lord, I just finished explaining that I am a ruined woman."

"I think," Simon said coolly, "that we will not discuss the Unfortunate Incident in your past again."

"We will not?"

"You begin to understand." He brushed his mouth lightly across hers and then drew back, smiling faintly.

She caught one of his big hands in her two small fists. "Simon, do you mean it? You intend to go through with making an offer for me regardless of the great scandal in my past?"

"Oh, yes, Emily. I fully intend to ask your father for your hand."

She could hardly believe it. Joyous excitement threatened to swamp her. "And you do not wish to begin an illicit romantic liaison tonight instead?"

"It is, naturally, difficult to resist a woman of such warm passions as yourself, Emily, but I intend to wait until our wedding night to consummate our union."

"Oh."

Simon laughed softly at the rueful disappointment in her eyes. He brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed her wrist, his eyes never leaving hers. "Which is not to say, my sweet, that we cannot avail ourselves of a taste or two of forbidden fruit."

She glowed up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Does that mean you are going to kiss me?"

"Among other things." He lowered his head, his dragon's eyes the color of molten gold. His mouth was warm on the curve of her throat.

"Oh, Simon."

"I like it when you say my name in just that manner. I like it very much. Almost as much as the way you shiver when I touch you."

He gripped her firmly around her waist and lifted her up off the floor. She looked down at him with a sense of wonder, her hands braced on his shoulders as he carried her over to the mahogany desk.

Simon seated her on the edge of the desk and then very deliberately began to unfasten Emily's chintz wrapper. His eyes held hers in thrall as he slowly parted the edges of the garment to reveal the embroidered, high-necked muslin nightdress underneath.

Emily felt herself going pink from head to toe. No doubt he could see the way her nipples were thrusting against the soft fabric. She reminded herself she was a ruined woman and he would be expecting some level of sophistication about this sort of thing from her.

She cleared her throat. "My lord, is this what you call kissing?" she said in what she hoped was a suitably blase fashion.

"No, this is what I call tasting forbidden fruit." He smiled down into her eyes and bent his head to cover her mouth with his own. His hand went to her breast.

Emily stiffened with shock and then moaned softly. Her arms tightened around his neck. Simon's thumb moved over her nipple, causing it to form a tight bud of desire. His mouth slid druggingly across hers. The heat of his body as he leaned close kept away the chill of the room.

Lost in the wonder and excitement of Simon's kiss, Emily barely noticed when his hands went to her legs. He pushed the hem of the nightdress up to her thighs and then he gripped her knees very firmly. Slowly, gently, he forced her legs widely apart and then, in a shockingly intimate move, stepped boldly between them.

Emily's eyes flew open. "My lord… Simon, I…"

"Hush, my sweeting." He did not lift his mouth from hers as he spoke. His fingers slid along the insides of her thighs in seemingly random patterns. "You are very soft. Like warm silk."

Instinctively she tried to close her legs and found his hard, muscled thighs in the way. She could feel the rough texture of his breeches against her bare skin, the sensation sending an alarmed thrill through her body.

"Close your eyes and do not think about what I am doing," Simon ordered softly.

His hands moved closer to Emily's most secret places. She closed her eyes, suddenly short of breath.

"Kiss me, Emily." Simon's voice was husky and coaxing.

Emily realized with a flare of guilty alarm that her entire attention had been fixed on the movement of his hands. She was obviously supposed to be paying more attention to returning his kiss.

Anxious not to disappoint him, she caught his face between her palms and urgently ground her mouth against his until their teeth clinked.

"Much better, my sweet," Simon murmured encouragingly. "But you must relax a little. Open your mouth for me."

With a shudder, Emily did so. Simon's tongue immediately thrust deep inside and at the same time his fingers found the flowing warmth between her legs.

Emily froze. She tried to speak and could not. She tried to take a deep breath and could not. She tried to think of how a sophisticated, ruined woman would react to such an intimacy and could not. The whole thing was simply too overwhelming. Her senses were reeling.