When Rose opened her eyes, she let out a low sound of discomfort. It was bright – far brighter than it was when she usually woke, and as she slowly came awake, she realized that her surroundings were unfamiliar.

Immediately, her eyes widened and Rose attempted to rise from bed, only to be prevented doing so by the heavy weight of an arm draped across her waist.

The previous night flooded back in a rush.

Rose’s entire body flushed deeply as she remembered her date with Michael – the way he’d followed her without hesitation to a soup kitchen and uttered not one complaint when she donned an apron and proceeded to do what she did best. For Rose, putting in time at such places came second nature – but she couldn’t see it being to terribly huge of a stretch for Michael either. He was a natural, smiling and getting on with the people who came for what might be their only hot meal of the day. He treated them with respect instead of disdain, and considering that he’d never been placed in such a position before, he surprised Rose with the grace with which he accepted his evening.

He almost seemed to enjoy himself.

But regardless of what had happened at the soup kitchen, there was no denying that they had both enjoyed themselves afterward.

She was in Michael’s room now, looking over the decidedly masculine interior, naked as the day she was born- save for the silken whisper of Michael’s sheets over her skin. Rose thought she should feel ashamed for her wanton behavior the previous evening. While she was no stranger to intimate encounters, what she shared with Michael the previous night had been particularly…primal. When the man told her he wouldn’t let her sleep, he’d meant it. Less than an hour after she’d dozed off, he’d woken her with his mouth, his hands, and his eager erection – and she had been more than happy to oblige.

Rose had, in fact, obliged the man for most of the night. In fact, they might have only fallen asleep a few scant hours ago. Carefully, the young woman shifted as best she could so that she was facing the man with whom she’d spent the night. If she expected to feel such shame that she bolted from the bed, Rose was entirely shocked when another emotion immediately rose to the forefront.

In the early morning light streaming in through the windows, Lord Michael Tate was quite the sight. The sheets draped over him just barely covered his modesty, which left the majority of his scrumptious body on display for her viewing pleasure. He was fabulously muscled in a way that she’d never before seen in an English Nobleman. Of course, Rose had never really stumbled onto a man of Michael’s size before, period, but the fact that he was English really boggled the mind. Long legs with strong calves and thighs, glorious buttocks that still carried faint red tracks from where she’d gripped it hours earlier. An impossibly broad back with muscular shoulders and that shockingly red hair mussed in sleep. Rose was almost overcome by the desire to reach over and draw her fingers along the stubble on his jaw – to make up for some of the tenderness the previous night had lacked.

But she quickly reminded herself that she didn’t need tenderness. She wasn’t planning on keeping Michael around for long enough to want sweetness from him. All she had to do was weather the summer and then she would be able to get on with her life – and so would he. They were both consenting adults, and they both knew what this meant the moment they agreed to sleep together.

Just a simple summer dalliance born of convenience.

Although…Rose wouldn’t lie to herself. Under different circumstances, it might be very easy to fall for a man like Michael. On the outside, he was what her parents wanted for her. A man with a title who came from an old family. Someone she could flaunt at her elbow both for his wealth and for his good looks. On the inside, there was something more to him – something that had driven him to be a doctor when he certainly didn’t need the money. Something that made him follow her from a high profile restaurant and into a soup kitchen. It was a shame she wouldn’t have the opportunity to investigate that something further.

With a sigh, Rose scanned the room once more, wondering how the hell she was going to get away from Michael without waking him. She would have to do it while he slept. There was no other option. If Michael woke, Rose suspected she’d once more fall victim to his ravenous hunger, and she couldn’t afford to be so completely overcome so soon after their first encounter. She would need to be prepared. Next time she would have the upper hand…

“You look terribly serious for having just woken up.”

Inhaling sharply, Rose gazed down to see Michael staring up at her. How long had he been awake? Had he seen her watching him?

At her expression, the giant merely smiled knowingly. “What’s upset you, Rose? Do tell. I’ll do my best to drive it from your mind.”

Before she could protest, the man’s mouth was on hers and Rose found herself forgetting that this was the man she was supposed to be fleeing. How on earth could she want to distance herself from something that felt so good? Michael’s chest pressed against her breasts and her nipples immediately perked as he bore her back down against the mattress. Though she knew full well she should have shoved him from her, instead, Rose merely wrapped her arms around his neck as her tongue tangled eagerly with his.

She had never experienced this – exactly what this man could do to her with a simple touch. Rose had never been so drawn to a single person that they could melt her with a look, but it didn’t take much more from Michael. He effortlessly turned her rational brain to mush – and he was about to give her a repeat of the previous night’s performance in spectacular fashion.

At least until a low buzzing noise punctuated the rising passion between them.

It took Rose a full thirty seconds before she finally tore her mouth from Michaels, and even then, the man was relentless. His lips dropped to her throat, biting and sucking in ways that made her lightheaded. “Michael,” she managed breathlessly, “Michael, what’s that?”

“Don’t care,” he murmured against her collarbone. His tongue dipped into the hollow there and Rose squirmed, trying desperately to retain her sanity.

“Michael, please. What is that sound?” With a low sound of frustration, the man raised his head to gaze around the room reluctantly. When the buzzing came again, the source was clear. Rose’s bag was lying on the floor halfway across the room, and from inside, her phone was ringing. She gave Michael a pointed look that she hoped would cow him, but instead, the man simply sighed, moving off of her with supreme reluctance.

Rose snatched the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around herself before she rushed over to her bag. The action, of course, left Michael as bare as a newborn babe – not that he seemed to care too much. He merely folded his arms behind his head, watching with half-lidded eyes as Rose answered her phone.

“Hello?”

The voice that an answered her came in a rush of French, surprising the young woman. “Hello, Miss Rose? Are you there, Miss Rose?”

It was a man, that was for certain – but Rose couldn’t remember giving any Frenchmen her number recently. “Yes, this is Rose.”

“Miss Rose, my name is Alain Mabele. I am father to Elisee. You remember my daughter?”

Rose’s hand flew to her mouth in surprise. Remember? How on earth could she forget? Spending time with Elisee had been one of the high point of the last year for her. Once she had gotten the girl to warm to her, and to Britain, it had been hard to see her leave. Both she and Elisee shed tears as she saw the little girl onto a plane back to the Congo.

“Mr. Mabele!” She quickly switched to French. “I do remember Elisee. Your daughter was delightful to have in Britain! Is she doing alright?”

The man’s next words sent Rose’s heart plunging into her stomach. “That is why I call, Miss Rose. I find your telephone number in one of my daughter’s pockets. Elisee is not well at all. She is sick. Our whole village is sick.”

Rose’s finger tightened on the phone, her eyes widening at the news. The whole village was sick? What on earth had happened? The plane that Elisee had been on was packed with both medical supplies and food for her village – as well as valuable funds that were to be distributed to certain of the village’s elders.

“Mr. Mabele, is there no doctor? What of the medical supplies that were sent with your daughter?”

A noise that sounded terribly like a choked sob came from the other end of the line and Rose’s stomach lurched. “They come, Miss Rose. They come and take our supplies. There is no medicine for my daughter or the other children. No doctors can get through. I call you because I have no other choice. I know you don’t know me, but I beg you to help me save Elisee.”

Rose shook her head slowly, horrified. Even though Mr. Mabele didn’t specify exactly who they were, she knew of the many tribes and their conflicts in the Congo region. It was more than likely that an aggressive militia from a neighboring tribe had stolen from the Mabeles and those in their village. Which meant that when sickness started, it ran rampant. And without a doctor, things couldn’t possibly end well.

“Mr. Mabele, I’ll do everything in my power to help you and your daughter. Is this a number at which I can reach you?”

She couldn’t remember the last time her heart beat too rapidly. Imagining the sweet, shy Elisee struggling for life terrified her – just as much as the notion that everything she had sent with the girl had been stolen. This was a situation that happened all too often in the Congo. It wasn’t talked about at fancy benefits. After all the money was raised and everything was said and done, what little did actually reach the Congo often became mired in the turmoil that surrounded certain regions. Despite the best efforts of Aid Groups, all too often, help came entirely too late.

Which was why Rose had slipped Elisee her personal cell phone number. At the time, she had only thought to comfort the girl. She hadn’t anticipated that the number might be used – but just in case…just in case…

And now her worst fears were coming to fruition.

“This is my home telephone, Miss Rose. You may call me here.”

“Alright, Mr. Mabele. Hang on just a few days. I’m on my way.”

“Thank you.” Rose couldn’t recall the last time she’d heard such genuine gratitude in someone’s voice. “Thank you, Miss Rose!”

When she finally hung up the phone, Rose was visibly shaken. Elisee and her village were in danger, and attempts to get help from inside their country had proven unsuccessful. There was really only one thing she could do – but she had no idea if it would actually be possible.  Regulations for going in and out of the Congo – particularly conflict-affected areas – were harsh. The one time she had visited the country to perform aid work before, processing her visa had taken months.

“I…I need to go.”

At her low proclamation, Michael only arched a brow in inquiry. “Go back to your room?”

He looked so unbelievably scrumptious that, for a moment, she almost forgot her alarm and launched herself back towards the bed. Almost. “I need to leave the country.”

That clearly got his attention. Sitting up, Michael gazed over at her, his expression still veritably mild, considering what she’d just told him. “The last time I checked, it took several months to get a visa and travel clearance to enter the Democratic Republic of Congo.”

Rose’s eyes widened in shock. Had he… how on earth had he… “We’re British nobility, Rose,” The immense man jabbed in a dry tone. “I’m a little insulted that you don’t think I speak French.”

“How on earth did you know it was the Congo?” She was still completely flummoxed. That the man could speak French explained precisely nothing at all.

Rising from bed, Michael strutted across the room to the closet to disappear inside, leaving Rose to stare after him. When he emerged, he wore a pair of slacks and a polo shirt that had to have been tailored to fit his over-large frame. “Mabele is a Congolese last name.” He did up his belt methodically before straightening his collar. “One of my medical lecturers was from The Congo. He told us that where he came from was one of the driving factors that made him want to become a Doctor.”

Rose just stared at him, struggling to find words.  “He also told us how difficult it was for aid workers to get in, even under the direst of circumstances. So, of course, my question to you is: Why do you want to go there?”

For a moment, Rose’s temper threatened. Who on earth was he to demand to know her motivations? She was her own person, and her agenda was specifically that – her own. But before she could allow herself to snap at the man, Rose took a calming breath.

Why shouldn’t she tell him? If anything, it might get him to let her go sooner. Rose had no doubt that her parents would be furious once they found out what she’d done – but she could only hope to get out of the country before they caught on.

“There’s a girl there…a family. I did a Benefit event for her village a few months ago and we sent an entire cargo hold of supplies and medicine back with her. The man who just called me was her father. He says there’s an epidemic in their village and everything that might have helped has been stolen.” Straightening her spine, the young woman stared Michael straight in the eye. “I have to do something.”

“Right.” Rose blinked when the man didn’t even question her, instead, going back to his closet to retrieve a leather travel bag and toss it onto the bed. When he began packing things into it, Rose’s brows shot up to her hairline.

“What exactly are you doing?”

Michael barely spared her a glance. “You’ll need a doctor, won’t you? I heard the word epidemic.”

Rose opened and shut her mouth in a very good imitation of a koi fish, rendered speechless for the second time since she’d woken barely half an hour ago. “Apart from that, I’m sure you’ll need an in for travel clearance. I’m still on very good terms with Doctor Mabele. I’m sure he can help us.”

“Us?” The word finally burst from Rose, halfway between incredulous and irate. “Who the bloody hell said you were going?” The demand was completely ladylike, but Rose couldn’t help her shock. She told the man she wanted to head to one of the most war-torn regions in the world and his first impulse was to want to tag along?

“I dare say, my dear Rose,” Michael winked at her, “That last night has rather stripped you of your refinement.” The young woman’s entire body flushed scarlet at Michael’s insinuation, but before she could offer a rebuttal, he continued. “I’m coming because I can expedite your visa process. And because the quicker a doctor can see those people, the better. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to kiss or to kill the infuriating man. Somehow, Rose refrained from doing either, instead merely watching the man continue to pack until his bag was almost half full. It was when she saw him toss his passport atop the contents that she snapped out of her haze and came back to reality.

They were going to the Congo. She hadn’t the slightest rebuttal for anything Michael had to say – and if he could get her where she wanted to go more quickly, then there was no need to argue. For once, she would have to put her pride aside for the greater good.

“…Thank you, Michael.” Though Rose often found herself considering her words multiple times before she actually spoke to him, this time, her gratitude came effortlessly.  After all, this wasn’t about her. Despite what had happened between them the previous night, what was happening now was about those who needed her – and if Michael could help her get to them, so be it.

**

Even with Michael’s considerable connections, it took a good three days before they were able to get anywhere. Of course, when he’d first suggested to Rose that he could get them to the Congo, he had only been half sure. He had acted on sheer impulse – which was totally and completely unlike him.

“You’re going where?” Mike winced as Elias all but bellowed in his ear. The man was in the midst of a crowded airport terminal with activity humming all around him and, somehow, Elias could still shout loud enough to deafen him. “Why?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do all summer,” Michael returned mildly. “Got a colleague to cover my shifts and the hospital, and an opportunity to get out from under the Countess’ prying eyes.”

“So you’re going to a conflict torn region in Africa?” Elias returned incredulously. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Michael winced. Alright, so he wasn’t being one hundred percent honest. It was true enough that he wanted to get away from his mother’s prying eyes, and that he’d spent enough summers in his family home to bore him to tears. But he wasn’t going to the Congo just to get away from England.

If it weren’t for the company, he certainly wouldn’t have volunteered for this trip and all its complications himself. For starters, getting the visas in and of themselves had been a nightmare. Though Doctor Mabele was a head researcher at one of the most prestigious universities in London, even he had to jump through hoops to help them. There was a full forty-eight hours of negotiation with the Congolese ambassador, and then with a leading member of parliament, who insisted that it was incredibly dangerous for British citizens to head into the particular region they planned to go. However, when Mabele offered up some of his own connections in his home country for protection, they were granted month-long visas with extreme reluctance.

The look on Rose’s face had been worth every aggravating phone call. The moment Michael told her they were going, she had lit up like a Christmas tree. He might have been imagining it, but he thought he’d seen moisture in her eyes.

They were two wrapped up in whirlwind travel preparations to celebrate properly, in his opinion, but Michael still had plenty of time to wonder what, exactly, he was getting himself into. Serving food to the homeless was one thing, but jetting halfway across the world into a very dangerous situation to help people in God knew what state of health was quite another. It was a decision he admitted he should have thought through before making any promises.

But now that they were in the airport, mere hours away from their journey, Michael had no regrets. There was a certain amount of pride to be had in the ability to help those he knew needed him most. Certainly, people often lauded him for being one of the best doctors in the UK, but where he was going, no one knew him by reputation. They would judge him on the good he did – and that was perfectly fine with him.

“Regardless of whether you believe me or not,” he spoke to Elias firmly, “I called you to tell you I’ll be gone for a few weeks, so you’re going to have to hold down the fort with your wife.”

Elias cursed fragrantly as Michael swallowed his amusement. “Mike, she’s immense. Like a bloody avenging angel. One minute she’s smiling and laughing and the next she’s out for my blood. Bloody hormones.”

This time, Michael couldn’t resist a low chuckle. “That’s the name of the game. Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. Then you’ll just have a bouncing baby boy to deal with.”

“…I hope you’re not still trying to be funny, Mike. We both know how perfectly awful you are at it.”

Before Michael could deliver a retort, however, he was interrupted. Rose emerged from where she’d been off looking for coffees. At the irate expression on her face, Michael frowned. “Elias, let me call you back.”

“Call me back? You’re going to Africa!”

“Ten minutes.” With that, Michael hang up. He and Elias had been through enough together that he knew his friend would understand. He highly doubted that Cat would go for the architect’s throat in the next ten minutes. “Rose?” Stepping away from the wall he’d been leaning against, Michael addressed the visibly distraught woman before him. “What’s going on?”

She thrust a cup of coffee in his direction as she answered. “Our flight’s been cancelled. All the flights to the Congo for the next week have been cancelled.”

Bloody hell. “When’s the next scheduled flight?”

Rose’s nose crinkled in displeasure, her brow wrinkling. “Two weeks from tomorrow.”

Well, that would never do. Michael had a hard enough time putting his mother off as it is. He’d managed to convince her he was going to visit Elias, and that Rose was off to see a friend. That story wouldn’t hold up very well if they remained in London for much longer.

“Well, that certainly won’t do at all.” Taking his coffee, Michael sipped carefully. It was a bit too bitter for his taste – he’d always preferred tea – but he hadn’t slept much in the past two days. Now, it seemed he was destined to stay awake for a little while longer. “I’ll have to make some calls.”

Rose’s eyes widened slightly. “What sort of calls?”

Michael’s lips quirked upwards at her reaction. While he would admit that he had pushed so hard to get their travel visas because it was evident how consumed Rose was by the fate of this village, it gave him no small satisfaction that she was impressed by his actions. If he could pull a few more strings to make her happy, he certainly wouldn’t mind. “Have your coffee and relax for a while, Rose. You must be tired.”

A fire immediately lit in the young woman’s gaze. “Relax? How on earth can I relax!? You might see this as some type of vacation, Michael, but there are people that need me-”

“Rose.” Michael’s interjection was soft, but firm, visibly startling her. She was, he realized, very close to panic. He should have known from the look on her face when Elisee’s father first called that she had an attachment to the girl and that nothing would stop her from getting to Africa. Even if he hadn’t had any connections, a woman like Rose would have found a way. She was worked up to the point of desperation – and she was exhausted. Anyone with eyes could see that. “Listen to me, Rose.” Taking her free hand, Michael folded his fingers around it firmly. When she tried to jerk away, he held her firmly. “I’ll handle this, but I need you to calm down. I need you to rest. Everything will be alright. Trust me. Haven’t I already gotten you this far?”

For a long moment, Rose merely stared at him. Around them, the airport bustled with activity – people rushing to catch their flights, shops selling snacks and meals, loudspeakers calling for lost passengers. But Michael heard none of it. His gaze was fixed on the woman before him. She was such a volatile, headstrong thing…like no woman he’d ever encountered before.

That had to be why he was so bloody obsessed with her.

After what seemed like an eternity, Rose’s tensed shoulders finally slumped. She exhaled a long breath, slipping her hand from his grasp to run through her mussed blonde hair. “I…I’m sorry, Michael.” Her voice was so low that he could barely hear it above the din of the airport. “I don’t mean to seem unappreciative. I just…I can’t stop thinking about Elisee and her family. Her father said she’s only getting worse and I…” She shook her head, falling silent for a moment before she managed to compose herself. “I just want to help them. No one seems to understand that.”

She was frustrated. Michael could admit that he himself was taken aback by how complicated it seemed in this particular instance to help one village in need. But he had given Rose his word that he would get her there and he certainly wasn’t going back on it now. “Trust me, Rose.” He repeated simply, reaching out to tip her chin up gently. When he leaned in to kiss her, she let him, her mouth molding against his with familiarity.

By the time he was finished teasing her with his teeth and tongue, the young woman was putty in his hands. Michael guided her backwards into an empty seat nearby, and there he left her. Reaching for his cell phone once more, he stepped away to make a few calls. He supposed Elias would simply have to wait.

Less than four hours later, Michael and Rose boarded a plane bound for Kinshasha. The jet, however, wasn’t a commercial plane. It was a private jet that Michael had allowed Elias to goad him into purchasing five years prior – one he almost never used. He supposed he’d have to thank his friend for baiting him, considering that the damned thing was the only reason they were leaving Britain on time.

He half expected Rose to turn her nose up at the plain’s extravagant trappings. She had, after all, been appalled at the prices in a five-star restaurant. Instead, however, she merely took her seat next to him with an appreciative smile. Once they were actually in the air, she did the last thing Michael would ever have expected.

“Your plane is lovely.”

The auburn haired man arched a brow, his expression incredulous. “Is it?”

In response, Rose just rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not saying it again. You only get the once.” She accepted the glass to champagne the single stewardess handed her gracefully before raising it in his direction. “I suppose I have to toast to you.”

Michael smiled at her forthrightness, accepting his own glass. “I feel as if no one could make you do anything you didn’t want, Rose.”

Her answering smile was radiant – well worth humbling himself. Besides, Michael truly couldn’t imagine Rose doing something she didn’t want to. Despite her family name and all she’d been afforded with, she had a completely different agenda – one that she was hell-bent on fulfilling at any cost.

And he admired that.

“You might be one of the only people to truly understand that.” She winked at him. Actually winked. It made him want to carry her back into the plane’s singular bedroom and ravish her all over again. “So a toast – to you, Lord Michael. And all your chivalry.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He touched his glass to hers before taking a sip of champagne. Almost immediately after taking a taste of her drink, however, Rose yawned so widely she almost dislocated her jaw. Michael chuckled. “You know, there is a bedroom on this aircraft.”

Rose merely gave him a wary look that had Michael groaning lowly at her implication. “For you to sleep, woman. Do you honestly expect me to have a go at you when you can hardly keep your eyes open?”

She sighed, leaning her head back against the plush leather of the seat. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Michael wouldn’t give her the benefit of knowing how right she really was. He’d wanted the woman powerfully since their first night together, and hadn’t had another opportunity in their Congo madness. If it were up to him, he’d have her clothes off right then and there in her seat; but although he wanted Rose so badly it was hard to concentrate on anything else, Michael wasn’t oblivious to how tired she was.

Hell, he was no stranger to how tired he was, either.

In a smooth movement, he unbuckled his seat belt and stood. Rose merely watched him curiously until he did the same for her before lifting her into his arms. Had she been well-rested, she might have protested a little bit more. As it was, she merely glared at him, clinging to him as he shifted her into a comfortable position in his arms. “I can walk, you know.”

He chuckled. “And I can play rugby. Did you know that?”

He carried her down the long corridor at the center of the plane until he reached the door to the bedroom before opening it. Before Rose could protest, he was placing her atop the rich coverlet, fluffing up the pillows behind her. The young woman barely had the energy to put him off half-heartedly. “Michael, we are not doing this right now…”

“I’m not doing anything, Rose, but putting you to bed. If I wanted you,” Michael tucked the sheets in around her almost fondly. “Trust me, I would have you.”

Her sleepy attempt at a glare incited an unfamiliar little flip-flop in his abdomen. “In your dreams, you cheeky cad.” Two minutes after her soft retort, the young woman was dozing, her expression lax in slumber.

His lips turned upward in an amused smile, Michael simply watched her. When Rose Lithgall was awake, it seemed she was on her guard about everything and anything. The way people treated her, her morals and values, the tea she took…but when she was asleep…when she was asleep, she was nothing but angelic.

Carefully, Michael retrieved the sweater she wore, sliding it from her arms to set on the small table besides the bed. The young woman was still fully clothed, but something about the delicate curve of her bare arms…the way her golden hair spread across the pillow…it was enough to remind him that he wanted her beyond measure.

And he was rock hard within seconds.

Michael emitted a long-suffering sigh. He was a born and bred gentleman, but never had the regulations of etiquette pained him as much as they did in that moment. Reaching over, he drew his fingertips across the softness of Rose’s cheek lingeringly before he stood. Michael forced himself to leave the room and return to the plane’s lounge, where he asked the stewardess for a draft of Macallan’s. That, he thought, should put him to sleep. They had a seven-hour flight ahead of them, and if he could sleep the entire way without being plagued by thoughts of the woman in the bedroom, it would be a godsend.

While the stewardess was retrieving his drink, Michael spotted a leather-bound volume in one of the pockets meant for securing items for landing and takeoff. Curious, he reached for it, wondering what kind of reading material Rose might have brought for the journey. It was, of course, an old volume of Dickens. The discovery made him chuckle softly. For every way in Rose didn’t fit the mold of English nobility, there were some stereotypes she fell right into.

His own parents had, of course, forced him to read most of Dickens as a child, and he had been bored to tears. His own inclinations ran more towards medical journals and studies – volumes that hadn’t been “appropriate” for a boy of his age. Nonetheless, out of all the Dickens volumes Michael had read in the manor, he had never seen this one before.

Plucking it from the elastic pocket, Michael looked it over. Despite the fact that the book looked to be about twenty years old, it was well cared for. When he opened it, the spine didn’t crack. He was, however, surprised to find a family tree scrolling across the first blank pages of the book.

The tree detailed the Tate family members, going back almost one hundred and fifty years.  His parents were there, as well as his grandparents and great grandparents. Even the builders of the Tate mansions names were immortalized in history at the top of the page, in gold ink. At the very bottom of the page were the names of he and his sister, with space left for their children after them.

Michael was so tired he almost didn’t notice. It was such a tiny detail – a minor thing really – but his name…it was different from the others on the page. While the titles of all the Tate’s were written in gold ink, his was written in blue – and hastily. Almost as if someone had rushed the work instead of the inscription being intentional. As the stewardess handed Michael his drink, he glanced over the page once more.

Strange.

He might have pondered the script further, but three sips into his whiskey, his lids began to droop. Setting the book aside, Michael leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Within minutes, he was sleeping soundly, with the family tree completely forgotten.

**

Even after they reached Kinshasha, their travel was hard. Despite their hard-won visas, Rose and Michael were both hassled in customs – detained for a total of ten hours. While Rose was indignant at first, the fatigue of her trip wore enough on her that she ultimately complied with the officers who questioned with them. After all, they had nothing to hide. She merely wanted to reach Elisee’s village as fast as humanly possible, and if that meant that she had to cooperate with pompous officials, she’d do it.

Michael, for his part, was amazingly patient. While Rose came close to losing her temper several times, he remained calm. It was almost as if he was the one used to heading into third world countries to grant assistance, and not her. But then again, Rose had always had a hot temper – especially when someone tried to keep her from reaching people who desperately needed her. When they were finally released from the airport, Michael eyed her speculatively.

“Are you always so brusque on your travels?”

Rose regarded him only briefly. If she looked at him too long, she found, certain desires creeped up on her, and now that they had arrived at their destination, she could barely afford distractions. “I’m a woman, Michael. I don’t usually travel with a gigantic Englishman by my side. If I wasn’t brusque I would be taken advantage of.”

She’d had it happen to her enough times that she always had her guard up now; Rose would never admit it, but she was convinced that the reason Congolese officials hadn’t detained them longer was because Michael’s immense, silent form had intimidated them. He was proving to be more useful than she had imagined. But that didn’t mean he would alter the way she travelled – especially in places as dangerous as this one.

From the capital city, they had to find and hire a car that was willing to take them to Elisee’s family village, which was over a hundred kilometers to the south through a region where travel had all but been abandoned. After looking for the better part of a day, Rose was convinced that no one would be willing to take them, no matter how much they offered – until the men Doctor Mabele had promised to send to accompany them arrived at their hotel just before dark. Rose’s hopes were bolstered when the men promised to transport them through the jungle the next day – one would think she should have been able to sleep easily.

But nothing was ever easy when Michael was involved.

The hotel only had two available rooms, and so, when their guides checked in, Rose was forced to stay with Michael – in a cramped room that had only a single queen bed. She spent half of the evening tensed in suspicion that he would seduce her again – the rest of it similarly unable to sleep because she wondered why the bloody hell he hadn’t tried anything. Around ten in the evening, the man simply shucked off his shirt – making her knees weak in the process – and lay down on his side of the bed, dozing off instantly.

Rose was caught between incredulity and affront. Even though she was worried for Elisee and her family, she couldn’t avoid the desire Michael stoked in her. He had told her on the plane that if he wanted her, he would have her. Did that mean that he didn’t want her anymore?

Once upon a time, she would have considered that triumph. Just now, however, she found the notion had her feeling a little…put out. After the man professed to want her so horribly badly, a single night turned out to be enough for him after all.

She fell into a fitful sleep a few hours before dawn, and when she woke, she grumbled through three cups of coffee. When Michael asked what had her in such a bad mood, her glare was enough to shut him up – which only put her in even more of a hellish mood. 

It wasn’t beyond Rose’s notice that she was behaving strangely. She was usually the last woman on earth to be frustrated by a man. She often told her mother and friends that her agenda was too full to worry about pleasing men – one of the reasons marriage hadn’t ever been at the forefront of her mind. But Michael…. somehow, the man was maddening. His mere presence was enough to make her want to choke and kiss him at the same time.

She was tense for the entirety of their trip. A combination of wondering if they would be set upon by conflicting people in the area, the jungle heat, and the way she caught Michael looking at her was enough to make Rose irate for the entire seven-hour trip. Atop that, she kept remembering how desperate Elisee’s father sounded the last time she spoke to him. Rose called the man the moment they touched down in the capital, and he told her that his daughter was only getting worse as days passed. Rose found comfort only in the fact that they would be arriving at the village soon – laden with medical supplies and food. They had, of course, catalogued said supplies as fertilizer, in case they happened upon hostile factions along the way.

But to Rose’s surprise, they were lucky. While they encountered a few checkpoints along the way, they weren’t attacked – and they weren’t waylaid. Perhaps due to the officials Doctor Mabele sent to accompany them. By the time the sun set, the jolting road beneath them smoothed and they found themselves on a smoother one. The jungle thinned out, and in distance, Rose spotted buildings on the edge of the village they sought.

She leapt to her feet in excitement, reaching for the edge of the jeep – just as they went over a hidden rut in the road. The contact jarred the young woman a foot from the floor of the jeep, and she gasped as she found herself staring at the ground as it rushed up towards her. Rose barely had time to scream – but then, all at once, she was jerked backward firmly by the collar of her shirt.

A short sound of surprise escaped her the moment she slammed against a solid wall of flesh.

Michael.

For a full minute, Rose’s heart was pounding too hard for her to feel anything else. She could have fallen to her death – had her head split open against the road. But, instead, Michael’s quick reflexes and strength had saved her.

She had never imagined that body of his was only for show, and now he’d proven it. After a full seven hours of her grousing at him like an uppity peacock.

To say she felt guilty would be the understatement of the century.

Luckily for her, Michael spoke before she had to come up with something to say for herself. “Alright, Rose?”

She had been careless – completely and utterly careless, and she expected the man to tell her so. To lecture her. This wasn’t her first rodeo – Rose knew better than to stand in a car under harsh conditions. But she’d simply been so relieved to see their destination…

But Michael didn’t lecture her. When she twisted in his lap to look down at him, the only expression on his face was one of concern. “I’m fine.” She managed, before wincing slightly at her own sharpness. Taking a breath, she tried again. “Really, I’m alright.”

Michael nodded, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Good.” The man’s hand ghosted through the blonde strands of her ponytail at the base of her neck, and Rose shivered. He should be back in Britain, enjoying tea and cake with the Countess in their manor. Enjoying his luxurious lifestyle in his air-conditioned parlor and being driven around in his father’s Rolls Royce.

But, instead, he was here with her. He had come thousands of miles on her whim, even helping her with challenges it might have taken her months to work out on her own. Even if Rose was unsure of what, exactly, Michael wanted with her, the least she could do was be cordial with the man.

“Thanks.”

Michael’s smile widened. “Of course. Don’t mention it.”

Within twenty minutes, they arrived on the outskirts of the village. When they hopped down from the jeep, Rose resisted the urge to run straight for its center. There were certain protocols it would be better to follow, and she didn’t relish the thought of putting herself in danger again.

The village elders met them at the edge of the settlement – and the weary wariness in their eyes was enough to send Rose’s heart out to them.

“Who are you?” A bend, dark-skinned man demanded in broken French. “We have no more supplies here. No more food.”

The elders thought they were another rival faction come to raid. It was enough to make Rose’s blood boil in anger. Stepping forward, she addressed the three men that stood before them.  “Honored elders, we are not here to take from you, but to give. I received a call from the father of Elisee. I’ve come here with medicine and food.” Taking Michael’s arm, she pulled him forward. “I also brought a doctor to treat the sick.”

For a moment, the elders merely stared at her, disbelief evident on their faces. They looked from her to the gargantuan man beside her and to the Congolese officials behind them. Then, the bent man between the other elders stepped forward. He took Rose’s hand between his weathered ones – and tears began to drip down his cheeks.

“Bless you, child.” Rose was filled with a mixture of warmth and grief at the flagrant relief on his face. “Bless you.”

They were admitted to the village with little difficulty. Dr. Mabele’s officials helped them to off-load the supplies from the jeep before standing guard, ready to inform any and everyone the moment another group of rebels appeared to take what they had. Rose knew they had to act quickly to be in and out before they could be threatened in such a way.

The village was in even worse shape than she had feared.

More than half of the inhabitants had cholera – a disease that might have been easy to treat with proper water purification systems and medicines. But, of course, all of that had been taken from them. Though Rose had seen sickness before, the sight of the decimated village was still enough to steal her breath. The sick were in houses, lying on makeshift cots out in the streets, and the village’s makeshift hospital was full to the brim.

Despite how prepared she thought she’d been, Rose found herself a little overwhelmed. She was used to working with a team of doctors – other aid workers and supply bearers. They were only five of them and so many sick…

“Alright.”

She was jerked from her reverie by Michael’s booming tenor. He gestured to two able bodied-men working out front of the hospital before switching to French. “The most imperative thing right now is to separate the sick from the healthy. Everyone sick should be gathered into the homes nearest the hospital. Everyone else should be placed at the opposite end of the village.” He was so authoritative that the men he spoke to didn’t even appear to hesitate. They began to follow Michael’s orders immediately. “Make sure to wash your hands.” The doctor cleansed his own hands with sanitizer before he set out to help them, moving people who were too weak to move into the two huts closest to the hospital.

The task took them the better part of three hours, and once that was done, Michael gave further instructions to boil all the water they could and use the filtration systems they had brought from the capital to filter additional water. He was obsessive about cleanliness, demanding that anyone helping him wash their hands every half an hour – including Rose. If the young woman thought Michael might exclude her from the process because she was a woman – or some even more sexist proclivation – she was surprised when Michael simply accepted her help without hesitation.

When he began to treat patients, Rose had to force herself to keep up with him. Watching the man was so damned enthralling that she almost lost herself in it. Michael never missed a beat. He was methodical and precise in his movements – administering fluids via IV before checking patients for signs of malnutrition. They were given medicine to break their fevers and made as comfortable as humanly possible before he addressed other concerns. There were a few infections. Some broken bones from the last run in they had with rival villages – and more than a few babies that simply needed their first rounds of vaccinations.

Through it all, Michael worked ceaselessly. He gave each patient the same attentive, accommodating care and not once did he lose his patience, despite working for hours on end.

Rose realized, in the first hour, how sorely she had underestimated the man – and not for the first time. When she had first come to the Tate manor, she thought him a pompous braggart – a man who had earned his medical degree more by virtue of his family name than anything else. But time and time again, Michael proved himself to be just as brilliant a doctor as he was rumored to be – if not more so. And now, he treated patients not in sterile, comfortable British hospitals, but out in the Congolese wilderness.

Without so much as batting an eye.

As Rose watched him, she felt a strange pull of longing in her belly.

Bloody hell, how long had it been since she’d had him. A week? Ten days? She told him so vehemently that there wouldn’t be another instance of intimacy between them, but now, more than anything, Rose wanted precisely that. She wanted to feel his hands roving her heated skin – to feel him inside her, pressing her against a mattress as he drove her towards the edge of sanity. She wanted all that…and something else. Something she couldn’t ever recall wanting before…

“Miss Rose…”

The young woman snapped back to the present at a weak voice from behind her. She whirled to see Elisee, in the arms of her father, and she couldn’t help the cry of dismay that escaped her. The beautiful little girl was hardly more than skin and bones. Rose rushed to her, touching her face with trembling fingers. “Elisee…” She couldn’t cry. She had to be strong for the child. “I’m so happy to see you.” She forced herself to smile. “We’re going to make you better.” Her hand curled around Elisee’s tiny, slender fingers. “I promise.”

Almost before she could finish, Michael was at her side. The doctor took one look from her to the tiny girl in her father’s arms, his expression grave. “Leave her with me, please, Mr. Mabele.”

Rose could see from the man’s expression that letting his daughter go was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. Elisee was barely clinging to life and fear was evident in his gaze. Even so, he handed her over to Michael with little hesitation. The statuesque man whisked her away into one of the makeshift hospital huts, and no sooner had he gone than Mr. Mabele fell to his knees in the dirt before Rose.

Almost immediately, she knelt with him, taking his hands between hers. “It will be alright, Mr. Mabele. Michael will take care of her. She’ll be alright.” She knew she was making promises she might not be able to keep, but Rose could hardly fathom Elisee slipping away from them. She’d come all this way for her sake, and if the little girl died, she didn’t know what she’d do.

“Her mother died two days ago, Miss Rose.” The man’s expression was utterly desolate. “I cannot lose my daughter. I cannot.”

If it were within Rose’s power, she would make Elisee spring back to life instantly. But now, the little girl’s life was in Michael’s hands, and all they could do was pray.

For a few hours, Rose forced herself to house outside of the hospital. There were people who needed to eat and drink – who were exhausted from caring for the sick. She worked with a few women of the village to make dinner and make sure the elderly and the very young were fed. In their gratitude, some of the women even diverted her from the direness of their situation by showing her how to string beads in the way their grandmothers had taught them. Those Rose’s finished product was absolutely beastly, they praised her, and she found a moment of good humor. Once all of the women had left to tend to their families, however, she was left awake and plagued with worry.

She finally made her way back to the hospital, her stomach in knots of apprehension. Rose found Mr. Mabele asleep on a pallet close to where his daughter had been placed in a curtained section away from the other sick patients. For a moment, Rose feared the worst – but all at once, Michael’s low voice cut quietly through the dimness.

“Can you count to ten in English, Elisee? Did they teach you in school?”

To Rose’s surprise, when the little girl replied, her voice already sounded twice as strong as it had mere hours ago.

“Oui. One, two three, four, five six…..six…” The child hesitated and Michael’s answering chuckle warmed Rose’s heart.

“Seven. Next is seven.”

“….Seven…eight…nine….ten!”

“Very good,” The man switched back to French effortlessly, and Rose found herself flushing when she remembered assuming he couldn’t speak the language. “You’re a very smart girl. I’m sure your father is very proud of you.”

“He says I should listen to my teachers and go to school until I’m smart enough to be a doctor, like you.”

Though she couldn’t see his face, Rose could hear the amusement in Michael’s words. “And do you want to be a doctor, Elisee?”

There was a slight pause as the little girl considered. “I want to be a dancer. I want people to be happy when they see me dance. So happy they forget they are hungry.”

Though Rose prided herself on her sensibility, Elisee had tugged at her heartstrings in a way no one had for a long time – and she continued to do so. The little girl was amazingly brave, even in the face of adversity.

“I think you would be a wonderful dancer. If you want to get back to practicing soon though, you’ll need your rest. You should sleep now.”

When Elisee replied, her soft voice was almost shy. “Doctor Michael…will you stay until I fall asleep.”

Rose’s eyes widened at the small girl’s request. In the short time Elisee had spent in Britain, she had warmed to no one but Rose herself. Anyone else was more liable to send her into fits of hysterics than to appease her. Atop that, Michael was a large, intimidating hulk of a man…but Elisee had taken a liking to him.

“Of course I will, sweet. Sleep now.”

Rose wasn’t sure what shocked her more, Elisee’s request or Michael’s answer. Of course, she’d never seen the man interact with children, but she had never imagined he would be so patient – especially after an entire day of being worked to the bone.

But then…she seemed to have a habit of underestimating Lord Michael Tate.

Silently, Rose waited a full ten minutes until the sound of Elisee’s breathing evened out. A mere moment later, Michael slipped away from her, his face illuminated by the light of the lantern he carried as he stepped out from behind the makeshift curtain. When his eyes fell on Rose, he merely arched a brow. “Spying on me, are we?”

Rose merely stared at him, utterly transfixed. It was obvious that the man was fatigued, but she read not one iota of discontent on his face.

“What kind of Lord are you?” He had, in fact, asked her a similar question after their evening at the soup kitchen. She couldn’t help but repeat it now.

In response, Michael merely showed her a weary smile. “A very tired one.”

The village had scant accommodations for outsiders – two huts on the edge of the settlement, one of which had already been taken by Doctor Mabele’s helpful officials. Rose had earlier planned to insist that Michael spent the night with them rather than be plagued with another night of trying to fight the warring emotions in her gut. But now, she found she’d had a complete change of heart.

“Come on.” Reaching out, she took his hand in hers, a shiver traversing the length of her spine when he touched her.  “There’s nothing more you can do tonight. They’re all asleep.”

Michael said nothing, merely allowing her to lead him from the hut and out into the open. Above them, stars were scattered across the vast expanse of the sky. They twinkled brilliantly, unfettered by city lights that would normally threaten them. Rose led Michael to the single empty hut, shutting the door behind them before she set his lamp aside.

“You worked like a machine today.” Before he could begin to remove the shirt he wore, her hands rose to the buttons, pushing his away. One by one, she undid them, until the wide, muscular expanse of his chest was revealed.

“Rose.” Michael’s voice had already dropped to a low, sinuous tone of desire. “You don’t have to-”

“Didn’t you once tell me that no one could make me do something I didn’t want to?” She said, cutting him off gently, raising her gaze to his. Michael’s own eyes twinkled in amusement at her inquiry.

“I might have.”

“You were right, Michael.” Taking the lapels of his jacket, the young woman drew him downward until his mouth was inches from hers. “I only do what I want. And right now…I want you.”

Within an instant, the man’s arms closed around her in a tight embrace. It didn’t matter that they were thousands of miles away from Britain – that they weren’t in a fancy hotel with five-star accommodations. In that instant, Rose wanted Michael more powerfully than she ever had – and she always got what she wanted.