with diamonds. They surrounded a sapphire stone in the center, which was the exact color of his eyes.
This is for you, he said. Keep it so that you ' 11 remember.
I can't.
She was sufficiently cognizant to fathom that the ring was much too precious for him to relinquish and, more important, she was too insignificant to receive it. How could she explain her possession of it?
She shoved it away, but he slipped it onto her finger and curled her fist into a tight ball, sealing her grip so that she wouldn't drop it.
Do it for me.
His expression was so steady and true that she couldn't reject the gift.
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All right.
He bent down, and she braced, certain he meant to kiss her, but at the last instant, he tugged at the bodice of her nightgown, baring her breast, the nipple puckering. He licked his tongue across it, rasping it, laving it, then sucking it into his mouth.
The action wrenched at something deep inside, prodding at the hidden place where her loneliness and desolation resided, and she clutched at him and urged him closer, wishing she could be subsumed until she was a part of him and no longer separate.
He nibbled at the taut nub, the agitation too painful to bear, and she lurched away, stunned to find that she was in her own room, in her own bed. There was ample evidence that she'd been tossing and turning. The blankets were mussed, the pillow on the floor.
She must have been dreaming. She must have been!
Staggering up, she winced as her head pounded with a violent headache, and her heart hammered so ferociously that her veins hurt. Between her legs, she was wet and sticky, her body weeping with an unfulfilled craving. She was drenched with sweat, and she shivered, needing to ward off her sudden chill.
She peeked down and was shocked to detect that her bodice was askew, that her breast was exposed. Trembling with unease, she rubbed her palm across the hardened nipple, moaning in agony at the flurry of sensation she unleashed, and she yanked at the fabric, concealing herself.
What had happened? What had she done?
Moonlight cast eerie shadows on the dresser, and she stared and stared, trying to deduce what she was
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seeing, when she realized it was the empty vial of the love potion she'd drunk on the stairs.
She jolted away, refusing to look at it, and as she retrieved her pillow, she noted an unusual weight on her hand. She lifted it and was alarmed to observe the ornate ring.
"Oh my Lord," she breathed. It was heavy, elaborate, the gold smooth and glossy, the jewels sharp and shapely.
Why did she have it? What did it indicate? If she was discovered with it, what would she say? She couldn't begin to guess.
She flopped down and squeezed her eyes shut, anxious to sleep for many hours. She hoped when she awoke the ring and the vial would both be gone.
2
" Who is the charming redhead visiting with the Lewis family?"
"The redhead?"
"Yes," Marcus said. "She's short, slender. Very pretty."
"I have no idea," Pamela replied. "As far as I'm aware, they're all blond."
Partially shielded by the drapes, Marcus peeked over the balustrade and stared down into the ballroom. A hundred people were mingling, Pamela's notion of an intimate supper party, and precisely the sort of society event he loathed.
The orchestra she'd hired struck the f irst chords of a gavotte, and couples rushed to take their places on the dance floor.
"Are you sure there's no one of that description with them?"
"Absolutely," Pamela insisted. "Lady Regina was tediously thorough at introducing her party. She's brought along her daughter, Melanie, and her son, Christopher."
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"He's the earl?"
"And quite the sweet darling, I must say."
Marcus scrutinized her. At thirty, she was his own age, and a renowned beauty. Her ravishing blond hair was piled high, her expensive gow n — f or which he'd pai d — a ccented her glorious figure, but her physical splendor couldn't hide the shark lurking within.
She was a shrew, a fortune