Free Affair by Amanda Quick Page A

enough to make any reasonable man want to lose his temper.
    “I am delighted that you are satisfied with my services, Miss Arkendale.”
    “Oh, I am, sir. Most delighted. You will, indeed, make me an excellent man-of-affairs.”
    “But in my
professional
opinion,” he continued very softly, “your reckless actions this evening were intolerable. There is no excuse for such foolishness. I must have been out of my mind to allow you to search Drusilla Heskett’s house.”
    “I do not recall asking your permission, sir.”
    “You could have been hurt, perhaps even killed by that man who accosted us.”
    “I was in no danger, thanks to you, sir. Indeed, I do not know what I would have done without you this evening.” Her eyes glowed. “No man has ever come to my rescue, Mr. St. Ives. It was quite thrilling, actually. Just the sort of thing one reads about in Gothic novels or in one of Byron’s poems.”
    “Bloody hell, Miss Arkendale—”
    “You were wonderful, sir.” Without warning, she launched herself across the short distance that separated them. She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a quick, exuberant hug.
    The folds of her cloak settled lightly around him. Baxter was suddenly enveloped by a warm, tantalizing, indescribable fragrance. It was composed of the light flowery perfume Charlotte wore, the herbal essence of the soap she used, and the incredibly unique, utterly feminine scent of her body.
    He felt as though he had been thrust into one of his own bell jars. Some unseen air pump seemed to have sucked all of the oxygen out of the atmosphere. All that was left to breathe was the essence of Charlotte.
    A searing awareness flashed through him with the speed of an electrical charge. It created a truly alchemical reaction. The ancients had believed that, with the aid of fire, it was possible to transmute base lead into glorious gold. Baxter knew now that it was possible for the heat in his blood to change his anger into intense sexual desire.
    He wanted her. Now. Tonight. He had never wanted a woman so badly in the whole of his life.
    He caught her face between his palms as she started to pull away from him. He gazed down at her, baffled by the force of his own need.
    “Forgive me, Mr. St. Ives.” Charlotte looked flustered. Her smile was tremulous. Her eyes went to his mouth. “I did not mean to embarrass you. The excitement of the moment must have overcome my senses.”
    Baxter did not respond. He could not think of a damn thing to say.
    He did the only thing he could do. He kissed her.

Four
    For an instant, Charlotte did not understand what had happened. She knew only that Baxter’s mouth was on hers and that he was kissing her. And then it dawned on her. He was making love to her. Right there in the carriage.
    The flames of the fierce, vital passion that she had seen in his eyes at their first meeting had exploded. They dazzled her senses the way instantaneous lights dazzled one’s vision.
    It was as though she had walked into a strange, bewildering room that glittered with too many mirrors and sparkled with an unnatural number of massed candles. It was both thrilling and confusing and a little frightening. She could not see the door. She was not certain how she would escape should escape prove necessary.
    Baxter’s mouth moved on hers, deepening the kiss.He gave a husky groan. His hands tightened gently on her face until she was acutely aware of the strength in him. She could feel the muscles in his thighs. They were taut and hard and unyielding against her leg.
    A startling warmth invaded her. It pooled in her lower body and caused her to shiver from head to foot. She had never reacted to anything or anyone in such an odd manner.
    “Charlotte.” Baxter’s voice was low and infinitely compelling. It contained need and insistent demand and an aching sense of longing. “
Charlotte.
”
    She gripped his shoulders. Her lips parted of their own accord.
    He tore his mouth free for a moment,