Free Further Than Passion by Cheryl Holt Page A

candlelight emanated from underneath, and he tried the knob, elated when it turned. Had it been locked, he had a key and would have used it. He was that determined to be with her.
    His heart pounding, he crept in so stealthily that he might have been invisible. She was on a settee by the window, her back to him, and staring out into the yard below.
    She was wearing a green summer negligee, the thin straps revealing her slender shoulders and arms. It was slinky, likely made of silk, and the richness intrigued him. He'd assumed her to be a woman of extremely modest means, and he speculated as to whether it might be a cast-off from Melanie.
     
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    The elegant garment hugged her tiny waist, her curvaceous hips and thighs. There was a slit up the side, and he could see a shapely calf, a bare foot.
    Her fabulous auburn hair was down and brushed out, the lush tresses loosely restrained by a green ribbon. The lengthy ends were deliciously curled and a striking contrast to the color of her gown.
    She was engrossed in a cup of tea, a teapot on the dresser. An envelope was next to it, as well as a vial of red liquid, which he presumed to be the love potion and curative powder she'd obtained from the apothecary.
    He grinned, tickled that she was so disconcerted by events. She seemed so pragmatic. Who would imagine she'd fall victim to such chicanery? And how could he manipulate her anxiety to achieve his own ends?
    "Hello, Kate."
    On hearing his voice, she whipped around, spilling her tea down her front. She screeched and leapt up, tugging at her bodice to keep the hot liquid from burning her. Her twisting and writhing provided several tempting glimpses of bosom and breast, and he was ecstatic to note that his dreams had been very realistic.
    "Why are you here?" she hissed.
    "It's after midnight. You never came to my room as I asked."
    "You didn't ask. You commanded, and I told you I wouldn't obey."
    "So I decided to stop by your room, instead." He gestured around. "Isn't this cozy? Just the two of us? Together?" He deposited the wine and glasses on the dresser.
    "How did you slither in?'
     
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    " The door was unlocked"— h e retrieved the key and jangled i t —"and if it hadn't been, I was prepared."
    "Get out! At once!"
    "No."
    "You can't barge in."
    "I already have."
    "I'll complain to Lady Pamela."
    An idle threat. She couldn't risk others being apprised of his visit. "It's my house. Pamela resides in it at my discretion. I'm the king of this drafty castle, and I can do whatever I choose inside the walls."
    "You are the most spoiled man I've ever met."
    He laughed and went to the bed, sat on the edge, and bounced, testing the firmness of the mattress. "Are your accommodations acceptable?"
    "Very. Thank you for inquiring. Now go!"
    "Because I can have you moved, if you'd like."
    "Don't you dare! The last thing I need is your taking an interest in me."
    "That would create all sorts of trouble for you, wouldn't it?"
    "Yes, and you've done enough."
    "And I'm afraid I plan to do even more."
    He assessed the furnishings. It was a small chamber, snug yet plain, and too ordinary for how unique he deemed her to be. With a nod to the housekeeper, he could have Kate transferred, but she was correct: A directive from him would be deadly for her.
    Besides, there was an advantage to her current location. It was a simple jaunt from his room to hers, so trysting would be easy, the chance of detection nil.
    She glared at him with no effect, so she stomped to the wardrobe. Desperate to cover herself, she grabbed
     
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    a luxurious robe that matched her negligee. He wasn' t about to have her donning more apparel, and he rushed over to prevent her before she could draw it on. The fabric was as exquisite as it looked, and he stroked it, the cool material gliding along his skin.
    "Where did you get this?"
    "I didn't steal it, if that's what you're thinking."
    "It never crossed my mind that you might have."
    Mutinously, she claimed, "It was my