Rose liked Alice. Really, she did. The younger woman was the epitome of the unexpected. She said and did things that no real British Noble would condone, and for that reason, Rose found her fascinating. Of course, Alice’s shunning of the rules and regulations that governed her came more in her refusal to touch her own trust fund. She had made her own way in the world, and unlike many of her financial peers, she went out of her way to educate herself on the plight of those less fortunate than herself.

All of this, Rose learned, of course, when Alice went into detail about how they would run the coming benefit. She didn’t have to teach Alice how to organize things. It was evident that the young woman had already been in contact with the Congolese embassy and had, in fact, been planning this for a while. In fact, she seemed so absorbed in the task that she pulled Rose in right along with her. For a few hours, at least, the blonde heiress forgot the turmoil in her chest and the argument she’d overheard upstairs.

By the time dinner was announced, they had a concrete plan for the benefit that they wanted to execute – and Rose found herself so enthusiastic she almost skipped to dinner. When she took her seat, however, and noticed that Michael seemed to be absent, she began to backslide.

Even with a notepad full of ideas she’d scribbled down in Alice’s company, Rose found herself wondering what on earth had happened to him. It wasn’t like him not to be at dinner. Even if he, like her, preferred not to spend overmuch time in the company of his parents, he usually put on airs for the sake of evening meals and muddled through things.

That day, however, he was absent. Rose didn’t spot Elias either, and as a result, it was simply she and Alice eating with the Countess and, for the first time all summer, the Earl himself.

Somehow, Rose didn’t find him nearly as impressive as she might have imagined. He was shorter than his son, and when he introduced himself to her, she found his grip weak and half-hearted. In fact, as they all ate together, the Countess chatted incessantly while her husband remained silent. Almost as if she was trying to make up for his unwillingness to make conversation.

Though Rose told herself to dwell on the matters of the Tate family, she did. She dwelt on them all the way up the stairs and to her room, and she continued to dwell on them as she readied herself for bed. Where on earth was Michael, and why had he disappeared so suddenly? Why did his parents seem so uncharacteristically ill at ease? Why was Alice suddenly so enthusiastic about endorsing the cause of another, and why…why did she care so much?

Pulling the coverlet over her head, Rose squeezed her eyes closed and tried to tell herself that she didn’t. She couldn’t.

She had to stay the course. Only six more weeks.

With a sigh, she rolled onto her side, hoping she’d be able to drift off. She’d be lucky, she supposed, not to have any nightmares about the Congolese militia.

And even luckier not to wake up drenched in her own desire for the absent Lord Michael.

In the end, Rose was lucky enough to experience another bout of dreamless sleep. She slept so well, in fact, that when she woke the next morning, she was astounded to find it was almost eleven o’clock. She had promised to meet Alice in the garden for tea at eleven thirty to discuss their benefit plans, and her eyes widened the moment they fell on the clock.

As she leapt out of bed, a very unladylike curse escaped her. The young woman rushed to shower and throw on a silk top and slacks before hastily raking her damp hair up into a ponytail. She was sure that, next to Alice’s elegant form, she would look a fright, but she hardly cared. They were planning, weren’t they? This wasn’t a social call. And Michael had disappeared so she didn’t have to concern herself with what he thought of her appearance…

The moment she was dressed, the young woman dashed down the stairs and out to the gardens. There was a pavilion about fifty meters away from the rose hedge in the back, and that was the direction in which she headed. By the time she arrived, she was slightly out of breath –

And more than a little shocked.

It wasn’t just Alice who waited for her at the pavilion. Sitting around an elegantly set table were Elias, a very pregnant woman she assumed must be his wife, and no other than Michael himself. At the sight of him, her heart all but leapt out of her chest, and Rose had to force herself to catch her breath immediately. She could have sworn everyone present could hear her hammering heartbeat.

“Well, Good morning, sunshine.” At the sight of her, Elias smirked, raising his teacup in her direction. “We were wondering when you’d show up.”

Rose was slightly mortified. It was that Michael should see her looking so harried, but the other guests? She found she would have been quite content to sink into the ground and disappear at that precise moment. Alice met her gaze apologetically, and Rose was certain, in that moment, that she was exactly as conniving as her brother.

Speaking of which…She chanced a glance at Michael out of the corner of her eye. If Rose had expected him to behave himself, she was sorely disappointed. The man was looking at her as if there wasn’t a full tea tray right in front of him, his dark gaze ravenous. Rose felt a flush spreading from her hairline downwards and she forced herself to look away. She was in no mood to recall how much she had missed sleeping next to him at that moment – none at all.

“You must have been sleeping wonderfully, Rose. I feel guilty for calling this meeting.” Alice’s smile was radiant, and as Rose looked from her face to her brother’s, she realized the actual lack of physical similarity between them. Where Alice’s hair was dark and glossy, her brother’s was deep red with auburn streaks. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue, and his were a dark hazel. Michael’s facial structure was all angles, with a strong jaw and cheekbones, while Alice’s features were soft and aristocratic. Alice, Rose decided, looked more like the Earl and Countess, while Michael had a rugged allure all his own.

Since they’d returned to England, he’d trimmed his beard and he’d regained his close-shaven, gentlemanly appearance. But Rose would never forget how he’d handled her in Africa. Despite their exhaustion the man had her in every way it was physically possible to have someone…and she had adored every moment of it.

At that moment, Elias cleared his throat poignantly. “Have a seat, darling. The tea will get cold.”

…Had she really been staring at Michael like an utter idiot for the past five minutes?

She quickly sank into the empty chair between Elias and Alice, hoping she didn’t look as embarrassed as she felt.  “I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Catherine.” Seemingly oblivious to her discomfort, Elias formally introduced the woman at his side with a smile more genuine and fond than any Rose had seen him wear since she met him. On the whole, she rather disliked him as a person…but she had to admit, a man that looked at his wife like that couldn’t be all bad.

“Call me Cat.” The young woman reached across her husband to shake Rose’s hand warmly. She was clad very comfortably, in a large maternity shirt, denims, and what appeared to be converse – and she looked more radiant than any of them in their fine clothes. It just went to show that a woman creating new life was one of the loveliest things in creation.

…There she went with those uncharacteristically romantic thoughts of hers again.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, Rose,” Alice graciously poured her tea. “I invited the others to join us because I thought we could use their input.

“Of…of course” Rose managed, serving herself a scone with clotted cream and hoping that she didn’t look a complete fool. From where she was sitting, it was impossible to keep from looking at Michael right across from her, no matter how hard she tried. The man had set his tea aside and was leaning over the table, his chin resting against his knuckles as he stared straight at her. Was it Rose’s imagination, or did the man have dark circles around his eyes. Wasn’t he sleeping properly?

Or had the row he had with his parents somehow disrupted his schedule?

“Cat happens to be a brilliant event planner,” Alice grinned at the woman in question, “Elias, I suppose, has his uses insofar as helping us pick out the location,” when she cast a scathing look at the architect, he merely blew her a kiss, “and my darling brother will be the financier.”

“No!” The word burst from Rose before she could stop it, drawing all eyes at the table to her. Realizing how vehement she must have sounded, she quickly tried again. “I mean, I couldn’t possibly impose, I’m a guest in your household…”

“I wouldn’t worry yourself too much,” Elias cut in with a shrewd smirk. “I impose on the Tates all the time.”

“To my great dismay,” Alice groaned dramatically, before taking up her own pad from the previous night. “Now, Rose and I already discussed a few must haves-”

“Alice, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Rose wasn’t about to let this happen. She couldn’t. She was already in a huge amount of debt to Michael as it was. Was he trying to crush her under the weight of her indebtedness? “But I can’t allow Michael to fund this affair. I’ll do it if I have to. I’ve already asked so much of the Tates-”

“Don’t, Rose.” The imposing Lord managed to silence her as he typically did – in one succinct command. “There’s no way you’re going to change my mind. Alice has already asked and I accepted. That is…unless you want to halt the benefit, and redistribute any money that might go back to Elisee’s village.”

The bloody bastard.

For a good minute, Rose glared at him. She looked at Alice, who had the grace to look somewhat sheepish, then back to Michael again. The man merely stared her down infuriatingly. Rose was going to strangle him as soon as she got the chance. “Alright. Fine.”

Elias looked as if he was having a field day and Cat was clearly confused. “Alright, then.” Alice was the only one that continued to beam brightly. “Let’s discuss then, shall we?”

**

She was upset. In fact, upset might be an understatement. Four days after their meeting to discuss Alice’s benefit idea, Rose was still avoiding him like the plague. Michael didn’t know what was worse: having Elias around to offer useless advice from his playboy days or being unable to decide for himself what the hell he was supposed to be doing.

He wanted her. Of that, there was no question. He had always wanted Rose, even when he didn’t know why. Now, even though he was fully aware of his impetus, Michael didn’t understand his desires any better.

To say the least, his personal life wasn’t in the best of states.

Since his parents had spoken to him about his adoption, they’d attempted twice more to speak to him and he’d all but barred them from his room. He had nothing more to say to them and would have nothing to say until he decided how he was going to act. So far, he had shared his secret with no one. The only thing he had done was returned to the library to look over the book Alice told him Rose had returned.

He couldn’t deny that it drove a knife into his heart to gaze upon the Tate family page. His parents professed that they loved him – but did they? Or did they simply expect him to bow under the weight of their expectations? If that was the case, they would find themselves sorely disappointed.  Michael had never been cowed by any situation in his life. Given pause, maybe, but never cowed. 

He supposed that, in a way, he was lucky that Alice had suggested this little venture. It gave him something to think about besides his troubles – insurmountable as they seemed. However, Michael couldn’t help but suspect that Alice had ulterior motives. Certainly, she had never neglected to help him when he really needed it, but to suggest something in his favor without any suggesting he subjugate himself to her?

That was unusual indeed.

He was deep in thought on the subject after a shift at the hospital when she found him reclining in the library, staring not at his book, but at the ceiling. He was in the midst of remembering a particularly lovely light in the Congo when Alice’s face popped into his line of vision, startling him.

“Fuck.” He sat up immediately, almost colliding with her, and his sister smirked.

“Language, language, brother.” The title made him wince inwardly. How on earth would Alice feel if she knew the truth about him and their family? “You’ve been a recluse for the past few days so I came to find you and cheer you up.”

She extended a bottle of port to him and Michael couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled from his throat. “Dessert wine?”

“Hey, don’t discount it. It’s fourteen percent, and there’s no Macallan’s in the house so don’t be picky.” Taking a seat beside him, she uncorked the bottle and poured him a glass before doing the same for herself. Grinning, she extended her beverage towards him. “Cheers.”

Michel sighed, raising his own glass. “What are we toasting to?”

His question garnered him a mischievous smile. “My genius in accelerating your love life.”

Michael almost choked on his wine. Her what? He immediately looked over at her, his expression incredulous. “What are you on about?”

Alice only grinned at him. “Don’t tell me you’re that dense, Michael. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re over the moon about Rose, and she’s trying to run the other direction. Does it really surprise you that I came up with this idea to bring the two of you back together?”

For a good two minutes, Michael could do little but gape at her. He couldn’t decide whether to throttle her, to kiss her, or to storm from a room in a incensed rage. Since when had his little sister decided that she could take over his life? Since when had she discovered that she was a matchmaker extraordinaire? “Don’t look at me like that, Michael.” Alice sipped her wine placidly. “You may be upset now, but in a year you’ll be thanking me. You’ll have the woman you’re pining over, our parents will be happy and the Tate name will live on, blah-blah”

“I’m not a Tate!”

He couldn’t help it. Michael found himself so overwhelmed that the words slipped out of him on an aggrieved note that almost pained him. This was a bit much for him to handle right now – as if every individual shit was hitting the fan all at once.

If he expected Alice to be at all shocked by his little outburst, however, he was sorely disappointed.

His sister, ever cool, only arched a brow at his outburst. “Aren’t you? Do tell?”

And Michael realized that he had to. If he held this lunacy inside him for one more day, he might very well go mad. He’d been keeping his business to himself because he didn’t particularly feel like unburdening on Elias. As happy as he was that his old friend had come for a visit, Elias had all his attentions focused on his child, who would be making in appearance in roughly two weeks time. How could Michael justify dumping something like this on an already burdened man. Rose was out of the equation because she was part of his quandary. In trying to reconcile his feelings for her, he only found he both missed and wanted her, which did nothing at all for his concentration.

And then there was Alice. Alice, who, despite being unsure of his family’s authenticity, he had never doubted. Alice who he had discounted because she seemed like the kind of woman to create drama rather than soothe it. And, up until that point, that assessment was mostly true.

But, just now, Michael needed to talk to someone.

And his sister was there.

The entire story spilled out of him. Slowly at first, and then faster and faster as he fell into a rhythm. He refilled his port glass twice while he spoke, and never once did Alice’s attention waver. She watched him with rapt attention and a neutral expression as he told her about him and Rose. How they had first come to be together and how things had been between them in Africa. He told her how the woman had seemed to be avoiding him since then, despite the fact that he longed for her more than he had any woman. With no small amount of hesitation, he told her about their parents and the secret they’d hidden from him. He told her of the condition upon his inheriting the family name and title, and why their mother had brought Rose so suddenly to the manor. He finished on the note of his uncertainty – his stomach twisted into knots as he searched the face of Alice for a single sigh – any indication that she was disgusted with him. Annoyed – that she no longer felt a single obligation to call him her brother.

With a sigh, Alice only reached for the Port bottle, pouring herself a second glass. Her answer was a single word. “So?”

So?

What the bloody hell did she mean, so? Before he could demand more, Alice’s expression became suddenly angry, her eyes flaring as she rose from the couch to stand over him. “So what, Michael? If this is the reason you’ve been bloody pouting around the house all week, I should bludgeon the ever loving piss out of you.” She paused long enough to take a swallow of her drink before continuing. “So Mum and Dad adopted you? Who gives a flying fuck? You’re still my brother. You could have been born in bloody Atlantis, for all I care, and you’d still be my brother. So bollocks on whatever namby feelings of isolation you’re harboring. I’m here, aren’t I? I took my arse all the way down to Africa to retrieve you, didn’t I? You think I did that because Mum told me to? Fuck no. I did it because I was worried you’d bollocks up. And I was right, wasn’t I?” The young woman took a deep breath, continuing to glare at her dumfounded brother as she continued. “Personally, I’m of the opinion that they tarnished the Tate name by lying to you. You’re more Tate than either of them…which is why you’re going to inherit the bloody title and all it entails without doing anything you don’t want to.”

Michael had never been so proud and frightened of his sister in his entire existence. He realized now how wrong he’d been to assume that she might feel the same way as his parents. He and Alice had always stuck together – through thick and thin. And nothing was going to change that. But now, here she was, in a predictably Alice move, insisting he could have it all without giving up anything. 

Instead of saying anything, Michael merely folded Alice into a tight hug. For a moment, she stiffened against him – he knew how sensitive she was about wrinkling her designer clothes. But then, the moment passed. She leaned into his embrace, winding her arms around his neck. “You fucking idiot.” She murmured in his ear, squeezing him hard. “What’s in a name? Nothing, really?”

Michael chuckled, his heart full. How could she possibly be cheering him up at a time like this? The universe had gone absolutely barmy.

Eventually, he parted from her, releasing her to sink back onto the couch and nurse the rest of his wine. “Now…” He continued blithely, “How on earth am I supposed to achieve the world and all the rest of this nonsense you’ve suggested?”

Alice’s triumphant grin was back as she flopped down next to him.  “I’d have thought that would be simple, even for you: You marry Rose.”

The doctor immediately leapt to his feet once more. “Are you insane?”

“Clinically? No.” Alice replied cheekily, merely crossing her legs primly as he looked down at her incredulously “Just perceptive.”

“How the hell am I supposed to ask her to marry me? We’ve only known one another for six or seven weeks!”

Alice promptly sipped on her port before fixing him with an infuriatingly innocent look. “So?”

There went that word again. Michael was beginning to hate it. “We agreed that neither of us were out for marriage,” he went on in a rush, his face reddening in frustration. “We both have things we plan to do! Lives we plan to lead! Marriage isn’t a part of any of that!”

“Let me tell you what I’m not hearing, brother dearest,” Alice cut in with infuriating primness. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to marry her because a: you can’t stand her,” she began to tick off additional reasons on her fingers, “b: you’re incompatible, c: you find her unattractive, or d: you’re not in love with her. Do any of those things apply here?”

Michael found himself momentarily speechless.

His sister was batty – absolutely out of her mind. To suggest that he marry Rose so that they could have some…happily ever after…it was just...just…

“Do you love her, Mike?” The question was enough to make his heart skip a few beats. Michel stared down into his sister’s earnest eyes as she looked him over, and wondered what, exactly, it was that she saw.

It was a question he’d never asked himself – or rather, one he’d never allowed himself to ask. Why would it even come into question? He and Rose had, after all, only known one another for two short months. Just because he adored the way her blonde hair fell in waves around her face didn’t mean he loved her, did it? Because he liked to make her angry just to see the way she flushed and the gleam in her eyes…that wasn’t love. How he liked to watch her fall asleep, adored her selflessness and drive, and enjoyed every experience they had together simply because it was with her…that didn’t mean…

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

He was in love with Lady Rose Lithgall.

When the hell had it happened? He had been so careful…so exceedingly careful…telling himself it was just the physical things he would be involved in. Just kissing. Just sex. Just risking the wrath of everyone who loved him by gallivanting off to a third world country…just stepping in front of a loaded gun.

He was questionably crazier, even, than his sister. Certifiably off his rocker. After an entire lifetime of telling himself that when he settled down, he would really be settling, Michael found himself doing quite the opposite. He was in love with a woman who skirted around him on tiptoe – who was intimidated by and equally infuriated by him. She didn’t seem to mind sleeping with him, but when it came to anything beyond that, she could get supremely defensive.

“Does it matter?” He finally asked, his chest strangely hollow.  “I don’t think this is the right time to pop the question, Alice?”

“And why not?” The girl replied blithely. “You’re both in the same place at the same time…terribly convenient, don’t you think?”

“That’s not it,” Michael growled dangerously in reply, his gaze narrow. “She’d never be receptive to the idea. You don’t know her like I do…she’s single-minded when it comes to her life and her causes.” He sank back down onto the couch with a sigh, leaving the remainder of his Port untouched. “In her mind, I would only keep her from her goals.” Rose certainly wasn’t the kind of woman to let anyone stand in her way.

It was only when he got close to her- really close – that she melted. When they were alone, far from prying eyes, Rose opened up in a way she never let anyone else see. If there was ever a time he thought she might have feelings for him, it was then. When she was at her most vulnerable.

“Michael, I hate to burst your self-deprecating bubble, but that woman has it bad.”

The doctor’s gaze jerked to his sister’s gaze, warning in his eyes. “Don’t, Alice. Don’t bait me.”

“Why the hell would I bait you now?” She demanded brusquely. “With everything on the line? Do you really think me so cruel, Michael?”

She was right. Though Alice was prone to teasing, outright misdirection wasn’t her style. It had never been. Which gave him a glimmer of hope he didn’t dare entertain. Not yet. “Explain.” He demanded lowly.

At his command, her sister merely rolled her eyes. “You could ask a little more nicely-”

“This is my future, we’re talking about, Alice. Don’t hang me out to dry.”

“Alright, alright.” The young woman took a deep breath. “Don’t you think there’s a reason she’s running away with you? Why she avoids you? From what you’re telling me, a woman like Rose wouldn’t waist her time beating around the bush if she didn’t have feelings for you. She’d just tell you and be done with it. Why do you think she hasn’t done that?”

Michael opened his mouth to answer, and then shut it. Alice had a reasonably good point.

Rose never hesitated to make herself known when she had strong opinions about something. When she was conflicted or embarrassed, she practiced avoidance.

Like she was doing now.

The realization was enough to make him want to march up to Rose’s room and break the bloody door down. He wanted to see her. He needed to…but he would have to act delicately here. It was unfortunate that delicateness wasn’t his forte.

“Calm down, Michael.” Once again, Alice helped to ground him. His sister squeezed his shoulder gently, her gaze reassuring. “You’ve done surgeries harder than this. I trust you’ll handle it wisely.”

So, no pressure then.

Michael smiled wryly, shaking his head. Despite how ridiculously convoluted everything had seemed, his outlook had suddenly changed. An hour-long conversation with his ridiculous sister had given him the countenance he needed to figure everything out.

Well, almost everything. There were a few actions that only he, alone, could take.

First and foremost, he had to find a way to get Rose to speak with him. If he could do that…then maybe, just maybe, he could manage the rest.

God willing.

**

It was going to be a grand affair – but then again, when weren’t benefits grand affairs? For the past few days, Alice had been helping Rose to solidify the details. Elias was able to give them his perspective on the best spaces for the events, and Cat, despite her pregnancy, refused to be left out of the many errands that needed to be run. Of course, Elias insisted upon accompanying her everywhere she went, and so, she was never out of his sight. A veritable relief for everyone involved.

The plans were coming along nicely, of that there was no doubt. But there was no way they could continue in the same fashion with her avoiding Michael the way she was. Eventually, she wouldn’t be able to rely on Alice and she’d have to confront the man face to face. 

As things were, Alice was out with her brother making arrangements for the venue. Cat and Elias were talking with caterers and the Earl and Duchess were preparing for some party or the other. Meals for the last day had been strained, to say the least, and Rose found herself wondering if there was some unseen drama unfolding in the Tate household. The more she tried not to trouble with it, the more she wondered, until she found she was losing sleep.

With a sigh, the young woman laid her head back against the bench she reclined on, her eyes sliding shut. It was a gorgeous, clear summer’s day outside, and she was all alone. She finally had a moment to think.

“What are you hiding, Michael?” She murmured lowly, drumming fingers over her lower belly absently.

“Am I hiding something?”

A low cry of surprise escaped Rose as she bolted upright, her eyes flying open, She found Michael standing over her, his expression mildly amused as he stared down at her. The lounge woman found herself immediately and extremely self-conscious. It was an inborn habit that she couldn’t shake, and she found herself yanking down the skirt that had hiked high on her thighs as she sat up properly. “I…I thought you went with Alice!”

“I was going to.” He looked utterly mouthwatering today, clad in a short-sleeved polo shirt that exposed the taut muscles of his arms and form-fitting trousers. “But I realized I had some details to attend to here first.”

“Oh.” Rose hoped she didn’t look as disappointed as she sounded. “I see. Well,” she attempted to look busy as her tone lost its surprised edge. “Don’t let me keep you.” She scribbled nonsense down on the pad in her arms as her heart pounded and she waited with bated breath for him to move away.

A beat passed and Michael made no motion to leave. He exhaled a long breath before taking a seat next to her. The bench was so narrow that their thighs touched and heat flared immediately through her. Rose resisted the instant and powerful urge to fling herself into his arms. The heat of him so close to her, that darkly alluring scent of his…it was going to drive her absolutely insane.

“Rose, you are those details.” The young woman’s gaze jerked to his in alarm. Bloody hell, what had she done now?  “Why are you running from me?” The question came brusquely and without warning. “Surely I can’t frighten you that much?”

It had nothing to do with her being afraid of him. Not one bit. If anything, Rose was terrified of herself and the way her sensibilities flew out of the window whenever she was near him. It had been bad enough before she got to know the man, but now her desires were nearly unbearable. Far from being forced to attend work with him, she now found herself wanting, more than anything, to tag along with him to work every day. To watch him work his magic and execute that marvelous healing gift of his. She found herself wondering about all his female coworkers and which of them were catching his eye, and she despised the sick feeling that rose in her.

“Michael....I…this isn’t really the best time.” She tried to deflect him as best she could. “We’re in the middle of planning for the gala, and I had hoped we wouldn’t-”

“Just answer my question, Rose.” Michael replied firmly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Do I frighten you? Is that why you can’t stand to be in the same room with me after all we’ve done together?” Reaching out, he cupped her jaw, running a thumb over her slightly parted lips so the young woman shivered. What on earth was she supposed to say to the man? She could hardly form words with him touching her the way he was.

“That’s…not it.” She managed, swallowing thickly as she fought the urge to lean into his touch.

“Then what?” He countered. For the first time in almost a week, his face was inches from hers and Rose wanted to kiss him so desperately it hurt.  “Tell me.”

She didn’t know what to tell him. “You…you confuse me, Michael. You turn everything all topsy turvy and I can’t think straight when I’m around you,” she murmured softly. “How am I supposed to tell you something I don’t know?”

“Let me help you?” He replied, his tone low and silky. “Have dinner with me tonight, just the two of us.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he wouldn’t let her. “We can go back to your soup kitchen, if you like. I’ll go anywhere you want, as long as it’s with you.”

Goddamn him. The man knew exactly what to say to melt her defenses away. “Alright.” The words left her on the barest whisper and the next thing she knew, he was kissing her. His mouth was on hers and there had never been anything so right or perfect in the entire bloody cosmos.

Rose devoured him hungrily, her fingers threading through his thick auburn hair as if it had been an eternity since she touched him. She wanted any and all of him at that exact moment, and each slide of his tongue against hers threatened to steal more of her sanity.

As much as she might want him to, however, Michael didn’t strip her clothes off and have his way with her on the bench, right there in the gardens. Instead, he lifted his mouth from hers to gaze down at her, his dark eyes bright with desire. “Be ready to go out at seven. I’ll take you in the Rolls.”

The face Rose made was automatic and it drew a chagrinned smile from her lover. “You’ll survive.”

And she would.

Nothing, not an ostentatiously fancy car, an expensive restaurant or any outlandish price tag would be able to temper the excitement she felt at being on Michael’s arm once more.

Letting the lingering sensation of his lips on hers propel her, she made her way upstairs to ready herself for the evening. Each time she tried to reason with herself – that her rational mind threatened to intercede in her fantasy world, for once, Rose ignored it. Michael wanted her in his arms again, and this time, she wouldn’t be so foolhardy as to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Running was exhausting. Hiding was even more exhausting. Which was why she was going to allow herself to enjoy this evening, as well as the next five weeks. After all, they’d be planning the benefit together. They were under the same roof – why torture herself?

Why deny herself, when Michael’s kiss made her feel more woman than she ever thought she could?

Around seven, the young woman came floating down the stairs in a midnight blue dress that was probably a little too scanty for her usual tastes. However, Rose barely had time to reconsider her choice before Michael’s appreciative gaze was eating her up, taking her in from head to toe. Without a word, he extended his arm to her and led her to the waiting car in the front drive.

When they drove, she decided she didn’t give a damn where they were going. What did it matter, after all? She was more absorbed with the feel of Michael’s thigh nestled snugly against hers than she was with their destination.

Or at least she was until they reached it.

Rose found herself surprised when the car drove down a narrow country road into what appeared to be very real British wilderness. They drove through the darkness for a full ten minutes before she contemplated raising her voice, but just then, the trees round them fell away and her breath caught in her throat.

Before them was an immense lake, sparkling beneath the light of thousands of stars. On the edge of that lake was a small cabin, its windows alight with a warm glow, silhouetted on the banks of the gorgeous body of water.

As the car pulled to a stop, Rose gazed at the sight in wonder. She was so engrossed that she didn’t notice Michael had left the car until he had opened her door and extended his hand to her.

“Shall we?”

For some inexplicable reason, Rose felt her heart begin to pound. She took Michael’s hand and stepped from the car, allowing him to lead her to the quaint little cabin. Swiftly, the tall man produced a key from his jacket pocket and let them in.

Inside, there wasn’t much space – but the small living area had been converted into an elegant dining room with candlelight and soft music playing in the background. Rose glanced at the man next to her. “Alright, Michael. If you’re trying to be romantic, you’ve accomplished it.”

He chuckled, closing the door behind them before he crossed the small room to pull out her chair for her. “You’ve no idea how much your approval means to me, my lady.”

With a soft laugh, the young woman sank into her seat, glancing over her shoulder at him. “We’re back to titles now, are we?”

Michael merely winked at her before shrugging out of his suit jacket to place it on the back of the chair across from hers. At his action, Rose watched a brow. Said brow continued to raise as she watched Michael make his way to the small, rudimentary kitchen and begin to pull items out of the fridge.

“Are you…cooking?” She inquired, surprised and incredulous.

Michael merely smirked at her. “The best braised rack of lamb you’ll ever taste.”

Slowly, Rose began to shake her head, a smile of genuine amusement curving her lips. “I’ll believe it when I taste it.”

The doctor merely chuckled. “I accept that challenge.”

Rose had to admit, she was slightly awed by the man’s skills in the kitchen – even a tiny one. Having never been much of a cook herself, she was much more inclined to order take away or visit a restaurant. Michael, true to his word, seemed to know his way around the kitchen. Rose watched as he braised, boiled and sautéed their dinner into fine form. When he brought it to the table, she still couldn’t quite believe he’d made it all before her eyes.

“You thought I was a spoiled little princeling that couldn’t fend for himself.” Michael poured her a glass of red wine with flourish, his smile smug. “I live alone, you know. How do you think I feed myself?”

“Takeaways, like a normal person,” she answered smartly. In return, Michael popped a roasted vegetable in her mouth and Rose savored the crisp, herby flavor.

Michael was an untold talent, it seemed. “Does Annie know you can cook like this?”

“You are not to tell her.” Taking a seat across from her, the man pointed his fork at her threateningly. “Or it will be my head.”

Rose laughed softly. “Alright, alright. Understood.”  With that, she dug into her meal. After having lost her appetite for a few days, she found she was ravenous and tucked in enthusiastically. In less than half an hour, she had polished off her food and two glasses of wine, and was feeling quite proud of herself.

“I almost forgot,” Michael perked up as he put down his own knife and fork. “Dessert.” Rose was tipsy enough to think she might not mind having him for dessert as the man stood and returned to the kitchen. His behind was utterly divine in those slacks and her fingers itched to uncover the muscular length of his body.

She watched with rapt attention as he pulled two pastry boxes wrapped in twine from the refrigerator and brought them to the table. “I cannot claim to have made these,” he admitted, with a chuckle, “But I have been guaranteed by the purveyor that they are worth every cent I paid.”

As he placed a box before her, Rose merely gave him a skeptical look, “Please tell me you didn’t pay three hundred dollars for a cake.”

At the question, Michael’s eyes took on an odd gleam. “Not cake.”

That was enough to pique her curiosity. Delicately, rose sliced through the pastry twine with her knife before opening the box. Inside was, oddly enough, another box. This one, however, was made of chocolate and sat on a layer of wax paper. Reaching into the pastry box, Rose removed the thin, elegantly carved chocolate lid.

And stared.

Inside the chocolate box was an unquestionably gorgeous chocolate dessert. It looked to be mousse of some kind, piped into the box with layers of sponge cake and whipped cream. But it wasn’t the dessert that made her heart stop. It was the dressing.

Atop the elaborate confection was a breathtaking white gold, diamond ring that shone in the candlelight. It had to be at least five karats, set in a band encrusted with minute diamonds covering half its diameter. It was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry she had ever laid eyes on.

But Rose was at a loss for why it was atop her dessert.

And so all she could do was stare.

“Rose?”

She dimly realized that Michael was calling her name, and she looked over to see that the man had sunk to one knee before her.

He was on his knees.

Dear Lord, she’d finally lost it. She was dreaming. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t!

“Rose Gwedolyn Lithgall…Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Rose couldn’t speak. Her heart was fluttering so fast she was short of breath, and she couldn’t make it stop. “How…” she finally managed breathlessly. “How do you know my middle name?”

At that, a soft, almost nervous chuckle escaped Michael. “That’s what you want to know? Of all the things you could ask right now?”

His amused words helped to snap her from her shocked trance. Rose swallowed thickly, looking from the ring to the man kneeling before her and then back again. “Michael…this…this isn’t funny. Not at all.”

“Of course it’s not,” He replied lowly, reaching over her desert and pluck the ring from atop its chocolate throne. “I’m absolutely serious, Rose. I want you to marry me.” His gaze locked with hers and Rose found no mockery there.

“Michael…this is…” She struggled to find the words. “We barely know one another! We both agreed that this…this isn’t what we want!”

“We agreed that this isn’t what we thought we wanted,” he corrected her gently. “You want to travel the world and make people’s lives better, Rose. I have the skills to help you do that. We worked marvelously together in Africa, you can’t deny that. I have no intention of holding you back if you’ll allow me the same courtesy.”

The young woman opened her mouth before shutting it. She tried opening it again, but no words came out. What on earth was she supposed to say? That this was insane? That he was insane? The smartest thing would be for her to leave him here, return to the car and demand the driver take her home.

So…why couldn’t she? Why was her heart so terribly full to bursting with something that seemed so much like elation that she could barely keep the moisture from rising to her eyes? This was wrong. This wasn’t the way she had pictured her life. She wasn’t ready. Michael had caught her completely off guard and-

“Your favorite color is silver.” At first, she didn’t understand what Michael was saying, but the more he spoke, the clearer his words became. “You wear it all the time because it compliments your skin and hair.– and because it reminds you of the moon. You like chocolate but detest vanilla – you believe it’s entirely too boring for you because you’re always seeking something new and interesting. You like the Beatles but would rather have Seal serenade you at night – I know because that’s the last song you listened to on your Mp3 player. You read to escape from everyday life when you can’t physically escape it, but when you can, you feel as if the weight of the world is lifted from your shoulders. Taking on the burden of someone less fortunate frees you in ways people can’t imagine and you’ve lived your whole life thinking that is the one thing people will never understand about you.” Rose inhaled a shuddering breath as tears began to slip down her cheeks. “But I understand. It’s one of the things I love about you, Rose. One of many things. And I’m prepared to spend a lifetime discovering them all.”

The bloody bastard.

Rose sobbed as he took her hands in his. She watched him slip the ring, still slick and sticky with whipped cream, onto her finger. “Say yes. You know you want to.”

The blonde snorted in laughter through her tears. “Still cheeky as hell at a time like this? I despise you, Lord Tate.”

“You love me, Lady Lithgall.” Michael drew her down from her chair and into his lap. “That is why you’re going to marry me.”

Slowly, Rose nodded. She could do nothing else.

She watched as a slow, triumphant smile spread across Michael’s face the moment before his gaze turned heated. With her watching, he raised her ring finger to his mouth to envelop in warm wetness as he suckled the digit clean of the dessert’s leavings. Rose gasped, only able to ensure a few seconds of the teasing before she slipped her hand from his mouth and replaced it with her own.

With a groan, Michael’s tongue slid brusquely between her lips to tease her own to life as his hands curled around her thighs and he raised both of them from the living room floor. Rose’s moth never left his, tasting him desperately as he carried her down a single, narrow hallway to the tiny bedroom. It had, of course, been made up for them, but Rose didn’t take the time to appreciate it.

Instead, she tore at Michael’s clothes as he set her down on the knitted coverlet, popping the buttons on his shirt before urging it down his arms to bare his chest to her. A soft moan of appreciation escaped her as she peppered the well-muscled flesh with kisses and bites. In quick order, however, the man pushed her back against the bed, quickly snaking her dress up and over her head. When their mouths met again, their bodies connected, skin to skin. Rose groaned, trying to embrace him, but Michael merely pinned both of her hands above her head, his gaze dark and promising. “Tell me you missed me,” he demanded on a low growl.

Rose compiled almost immediately. “I did.” Her words had never been so earnest. “So much I ached with it.”

“You need me.” He followed immediately against her ear, before biting at her neck hungrily. “Tell me you need me.”

Rose’s eyes fluttered shut as he kissed and sucked at her throat and collarbone hard enough to leave marks for all to see. She could care less. “I need you,” she breathed lowly, her body throbbing with want. “So badly…”

Michael released her hands only to cup one pale breast through her wispy bra as his other reached for the lace of her panties to move it aside eagerly. He bent to kiss her again, and when he did, Rose felt the press of his glorious erection against her already drenched entrance. He slid home with an ease that took her breath away, and Rose arched against him in an effort to take him deeper.

Nothing had ever felt so good. So right.

“You love me.” Rose’s eyes widened as Michael lifted his head to look down at her, his gaze unexpectedly vulnerable. Even now, she realized, she could leave him. Reject what he offered her – what she feared. Go back to her perfect, controlled life and leave him out in the cold.

“I love you,” She swore, meaning it with every fiber of her being. “I love you, Michael.”

He groaned, loud and low, against her neck, withdrawing slightly to thrust deeply into her. Her hands now unfettered, Rose clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist as every motion of his hips pushed her deep into the mattress. Here, far from civilization, there was no one to hear her moans, her cries, her screams of pleasure as the man she loved marked her for his own.

The man she loved…the words sounded much less ominous than she might have imagined. In fact, Rose reveled in saying them over and over, as Michael drove both their bodies to new heights of pleasure.

When he finally came, it was with her name on his lips, and Rose shuddered in delectation as his seed flooded her womb. One day, she knew, they would have a child – and in that instant she wanted it so much that she trembled at the notion. Michael’s child growing inside her…the prospect was both frightening and awe-inspiring.

Instead of leaving her, Michael pulled her close while he was still inside her, rubbing over her back in slow, gentle strokes until their breathing evened. Cupping her face, he drew her gaze upwards to meet his. “I love you, Rose.” He murmured, brushing his lips tenderly over hers. “No matter who or what I am, I will always love you.”

The young heiress laughed softly. She could never imagine Michael being anything but what he was – a Tate, a Lord and a Doctor. The man she loved. The man she would soon marry.

How the world could change.

**

If Lord Michael Tate thought he was busy before proposing marriage to Rose, what came after was a veritable litany of activity. Of course, Alice was the first to know that his machinations had gone according to plan, and after triumphantly claiming that she had always told him so, his sister congratulated him with a warm embrace for both him and his bride to be. She and Rose, he found, were getting along swimmingly, which could only bode well for the future.

Of course, Elias and Catherine were the next to find out. Cat all but danced in joy – at least, as much as she could dance a mere two weeks away from her due date. Elias didn’t seem overly surprised, merely citing that he was proud that his best friend had grown some balls. Michael owed him one for that, and he had plans to torture Elias specifically at his Stag party.

Then, of course, there were he and Rose’s parents. Michael found himself quite somber when he spoke with the Earl and the Countess, if for no other reason than because he knew he was playing into their hands. It was quite convenient for them that he had happened to fall in love with the woman they picked, and he made it clear, on no uncertain terms, that they might very well have lost him in trying to pigeonhole him into his “duties”. Furthermore, he announced, there would be no Tate heirs until he was good and ready.

He enjoyed the look on their faces. Michael considered it payback for the hell they had put him through. They could stay on pins and needles for a couple years more. It might take just that long for him to forgive them.

Rose’s parents, for their part, garnered more joy from the match, seeing as though their plans had been slightly less of an ultimatum for their daughter. At the news of Rose’s engagement, they came to visit and celebrate personally with the Tates, and it was the first time in a while that Michael got drunk with the gentry that made him so uneasy. Rose apologized uneasily, over and over, for her mother pinching Michael’s cheeks and calling him ‘son.’ For his part, the good doctor merely threatened to cut off her brandy for medical reasons and she sidled away reluctantly. For this, Rose called him a wonder.

And in bed that night, he showed her how wondrous he could truly be.

Of course, with news of the engagement, the benefit evolved. Over the next few weeks, it became as much of an engagement party for Michael and Rose as it did a cause to raise money for Congolese in need. Instead of wedding presents, Rose urged their prospective guests to give monetary gifts to charity, and they obliged handsomely.

By the night of the actual event, they had close to four million pounds in donations, and the number only continued to grow.

Michael had hardly left his bride’s side since their engagement, but on the night of the benefit, she begged off to visit Elias and Cat in the city. The couple was busy with helping in the gala preparations and adjusting to life as new parents. Baby Liam had arrived just a week after Michael and Rose’s engagement, and Rose was eager to help Cat dress him for the party.

Which left Michael completely alone for the first time in four weeks.

After he’d showered, he took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror. Tonight, he would see Rose in her element – happy and working towards a cause close to her heart. In six months, she would be his wife. His forever.

So why did he feel a twinge of guilt when he thought about his beloved fiancée?

On the night they had celebrated their engagement with their parents, Rose’s very inebriated mother had whispered to him:

“You know she had plans to leave us? Vietnam, Thailand or some pitiful other country like that. She held it over our heads for weeks when I insisted she would love you if she just met you. And look, I was absolutely right!”

Rose had turned immediately scarlet and shushed her mother. Michael, of course, thought nothing of it until she spoke of the matter later on, in his arms.

“I told them that I was going to Vietnam once things fell through with this. Made them promise to double the time I stayed after I proved you were wrong for me. I was stubborn…it seems juvenile now but…no secrets, right?”

No secrets.

It was quite the reasonable request. They were going to be sharing their lives together, after all, and the fact that Rose trusted him enough to tell him something so trivial humbled Michael.

It just further solidified his determination that she should also know the truth.

It was impossible the count the number of times over the past few weeks Michael had tried to tell Rose about his true parentage- about the ridiculous stipulation his parents had placed upon him. No matter how he spun it, the story sounded ugly. He could never quite bring himself to let it spill out. What he needed was the right place and the right time.

Both had seemed to be in short supply with how busy they’d been lately.

But he would tell her. Michael swore that, before they were married, he’d tell her everything.

With a sigh, the man splashed water on his face as he contemplated himself one last time. Tonight was all about Rose. He wouldn’t concern himself with other, more trivial matters.

Michael dressed quickly and impeccably. Despite the traffic, he made it to London in under two hours and arrived at the venue – a breathtaking museum that Elias had designed years ago – right on time. While the driver went to park the car, he greeted the paparazzi as graciously as he could before hurrying inside.

There were hundreds of well-dressed, extremely moneyed guests bowing and kowtowing. Of course, these types of social events usually made him uneasy, but this one he would bear for Rose’s sake.

The ballroom was decorated exquisitely, with silver and purple streamers strung wall to wall and a light display to imitate the starry night sky. Michael checked with the doorman to make sure most of the guests had arrived on time before moving into the crowd in an attempt to find familiar faces.

Rose told him that she would be wearing a silver gown, and so he looked for her eagerly. Instead, of finding her, however, his eye was caught by several big-screen, LCD TVs broadcasting live news events from the Congo. Thankfully, there was nothing too macabre running, so he turned his attention back to finding his fiancée –

And almost ran headlong into Catherine.

At the sight of her, Michael grinned. He almost didn’t recognize her without her pregnant belly. Instead, she carried a minute infant, dressed in a tiny tux. Anyone who saw baby Liam loved him immediately, and Michael had to admit that he wasn’t immune to the boy’s charms either. “I was worried you might not make it in the traffic.” Cat beamed, bouncing Liam gently. She looked radiant in a red dress that set off her green eyes and Michael promptly pecked her cheek in greeting.  “And how are you, Liam?” He lowered his voice, taking the pro-offered child from Cat’s arms to cradle him gently. The warm weight made his heart unexpectedly light as he rocked Liam back and forth. “Are you behaving for Mummy? We wouldn’t want you taking after your father, would we?” At that, Cat snickered.

Liam yawned, opening his tiny mouth wide – and promptly spit up on the sleeve of Michael’s jacket.

The doctor winced as Cat immediately flushed in embarrassment. “Oh Jesus, Michael, I’m sorry. I burped him earlier-”

“It’s fine,” He brushed off her apology with a crooked grin, depositing Liam back in her arms. “I’ll just clean up in the toilet. Be right back.”

“Rose is waiting for you by the buffet!” Cat called after him. “I’ll tell her you’re here!” With a smart nod, Michael turned and began making his way towards the bathrooms. Thankfully, people made way relatively quickly in the face of baby soil, and he made it to the men’s room fairly quickly.

The stain, however, wasn’t quite so accommodating. Michael removed his jacket and rubbed at the sleeve devotedly for five minutes with no improvement. He was, in fact, still rubbing when the door to the men’s room opened once more.

“Michael?”

His head popped up to see Elias in the doorway and he breathed a sigh of relief. “I might have to forfeit my jacket. This stain is impossible-”

“Mike you need to get out here, right now.” Elias’ expression was grave – on the edge of panic – and the moment Michael realized, he rushed from the bathroom. The moment they were back on the ballroom floor, the first thing he noticed was that silence had fallen over the crowd. The only sound was the voice of a TV reporter. The volume from the TV had been raised, and every guest watched the screen with rapt attention.

“-We have here a man who is part of the Freedom Militia. In the wake of a visit to the Congo by British nationals, he has pressing information to share about the sanctity of Congolese soil.”

Michael’s mouth fell open as the reporter on screen extended her microphone to none other than the man from whom Michael had taken a gun. He had meant to kill him on that dusty, hot day in the Congo, but Michael turned the tables. The Doctor would never forget his filthy teeth and cruel smile.

“This man…he call himself Doctor,” The militant trilled in broken English. “He is no doctor. He is not even English.” To Michael’s shock, the man waved a handful of Polaroids in front of the cameras. They were pictures Rose had taken of the Tate family tree to help children read...along with a copy of what he now knew to be his own baby picture. “I have proof here,” the Congolese man continued. “Proof that he is not English. He is RUSSIAN. We let this man onto our soil and he could be a spy or something just as bad!” He leered into the camera, clearly glad of the attention as he continued. “I have the papers here. I research him. He is from RUSSIA. His father is bad man. Very bad man. He only pretends to be English. And why, you ask?” Michael felt nausea begin to turn his stomach as the man held up a picture of Rose. Lord and Lady Lithgall’s audible gasps echoed around the room. “I have information that he is marrying THIS woman. Rich woman. How can he have money if he not English? He wants to marry rich lady and take her money. Take her name.”

This idiot had everything all wrong. …but he was close enough to being right that Michael’s mother and father were beginning to look alarmed. Even Alice’s face had flushed from where she stood close to the punch bowl.

“If you do not believe me, ASK him. ASK this fake Englishman. Ask and you will see, he is a DEMON…”

Michael couldn’t bear to hear any more. He forced himself to shut it out. To shut everything out. The questioning stares shot his way, his parents’ desperate, pleading gaze. He needed to go back to the bathroom – to take a minute to think-

“Michael?”

He froze.

All at once, she was there, in front of him. Rose – a vision in silver silk and pearls. Her gray eyes were wide and questioning as she looked from him to the TV and back again. “What bollocks is he on about?”

Michael swallowed thickly. This was not how he wanted it to happen. Not now. “Rose…I…” Michael’s parents were making their way towards him in a panic – the Earl was all but shoving his way through the crowd in an attempt to get to his son. “Listen to me, Rose: this isn’t what it seems.”

“Then what is it?” She replied, her voice somewhat mild, as she gazed up at him.

“Not here.” Michael grunted as his arm was suddenly taken in an iron grip. He glanced back to see his sister had taken hold of both his and Rose’s arms and propelled them away from the ballroom. Within a trice, the woman found an exhibition room and shoved them both inside.

In an instant, the door was shut behind them, and Michael found himself staring down at his very lost-looking fiancée.

The woman he loved.

How on earth was he supposed to explain this?