From his place on the veranda, Angus drew in a slow deep breath of restraint. He had witnessed the whole scene and was about to intervene on her behalf when he heard her say he wasn’t her type.

He thought her boss should have protected her from such harassment. So, her name is Siobhan. Is she Irish? And if she is, why the hell should it matter to me? Exasperated, he didn’t like the feeling he was off balance.

The whole time she was within view, Angus watched her small figure like a hawk.

She had claimed he wasn't her type but he was convinced that was mere subterfuge.

Definitely, she was not the sort of woman he had gone for in the past. Tall, elegant blondes like Innes had always been Angus’s style.

But Siobhan got to him on a much more basic level. Well, the sensual sway of her hips would have attracted any red-blooded male’s attention.

* * *

The first person she saw when she exited the house was the tall lord, leaning up against a wall at an elegant angle and talking into his mobile phone. Probably ordering a Uber—no, a limousine.

She hurried toward the underground station, thinking what a miserable evening she’d had when she heard footfalls behind her.

“Excuse me, miss?” He noticed she barely reached his shoulder. There was something intensely feminine about her slight build and diminutive stature.

“Look, I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea—”

“The wrong idea?” He had a sudden explosively sexual image of lifting her up against him and taking her, right there and then. With great difficulty he managed to shut it out. Even so, his body reacted with instant enthusiasm. You’ve given me the very right idea.

“I was not flirting with you…or…in any way expressing a personal interest in you,” she spelled out with scrupulous care.

Angus studied her with sudden intense amusement, because what was in his mind was the exact opposite—he was thinking he could offer her a ride so they could get acquainted.

“How long have you worked as a waitress?” Angus asked, gracefully negotiating a passage through the awkward silence that had fallen.

“I started out as a part-timer after I graduated from school. I’m saving to start my own business,” Siobhan told him.

“Allow me to help you with your savings by giving you a ride instead of letting you take a bus on such a beautiful night.”

“You’re very kind, but it takes two tube changes and the DLR for me to get home. It’s much too far for you to…drive,” she finished lamely. Because a long, shiny black limousine stopped right beside them and a man in a black suit and dark glasses hurried out to open the door for him.

“Nonsense. It will be my pleasure.” He was stunned by the amount of restraint it took to keep his hands off her, and was furious he couldn’t keep his libido under better control.

Angus had rules where women were concerned. So far, he’d always followed them.

But this was different. She was different, in ways he couldn’t yet define. He usually didn’t find innocence so alluring, but in her case, it was sweetened by bold, unabashed curiosity. Right this moment, he was entertaining a vivid fantasy of unwinding the knot in her hair, stripping those drab clothes from her body, peeling away any layers of modesty beneath…and leaving those glasses on. So, she could see him when he had her. “Besides, it’s the least I can do after it appears I got you into some sort of trouble with your employer.”

“I think I’ll be fine. Allen, my boss, will understand. He’s not like...some people. It was no one’s fault what happened, my lord.”

“Very well. But just the same, I insist on the favor of a ride, and you know it’s impolite to refuse a lord.” He noticed the glint of steel that shined in her eyes for a second, before it was gone, and she smiled in gratitude.

“Yes, my lord. As you wish.”

* * *

This isn’t me. Siobhan snatched a ragged breath, shaken by her acquiescence to someone who had literally just lorded himself over her as she scampered inside the luxurious limousine.

She’d never been into men in the same way as her friends. There had been boyfriends, but nobody special; certainly, nobody she had any desire to sleep with. So, it was a total shock to gaze into his eyes and have all the breath stolen from her lungs and reason robbed from her thoughts.

“By the way, I’m Angus,” he flashed her a brilliant smile.

She blinked, realizing the face she’d been staring at absentmindedly had just spoken. “I’m Siobhan.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Siobhan. Are you Irish?” He liked her direct, unpretentious response. Of course, she couldn’t curtsy in the vehicle, but she didn’t even attempt to verbally acknowledge his status. Calling him my lord earlier was apparently a public display. But now, here in the car, essentially alone with him, she was direct and spoke as his equal. I really do like her.

“Yes.”

“Are you single?”

Intent golden eyes glittered down into hers; eyes that hinted at pleasures untold, laughter, and if she wasn’t imagining it, some kind of past pain held carefully in check.

How in God’s name could a mere look make her feel as though he’d peeled her clothes from her body slowly and deliciously? “I am. Are you, Lord Lenox?”

Interesting. Now she’s separating us by class as I inquire as to her availability? “I’m a widower. My wife died one year ago, I’m sorry to say.”

Ah. That explained the pain she’d seen in his eyes. She put a hand over his, genuinely sorry for his loss. “I’m sorry to hear that, my lord.”

“Please, call me Angus.” A zing of electricity ran through him and he turned his hand and closed his fingers over hers. “At least in private.”

“Yes, Lord Angus.” She smiled, teasing him, but since her mind was not working due to the sudden warmth heating her blood, she repeated, “I’m sorry for your wife.”

It dazzled him she could be playful, and get him to smile in return—while discussing his dead wife. What kind of creature is this? And he couldn’t think of anything to say, but, “It’s okay.”

They both looked at each other curiously for a moment, comfortable in the silence though they hardly knew each other.

“So, waitressing,” he said, changing the subject. “Is that your life’s work? Your grand ambition?”

She laughed, as he had hoped she would.

“Of course not,” her emerald eyes glittering with amusement. “I’m an amateur jeweler when I can afford to be, but waitressing is what it takes to pay my bills. I can’t imagine anyone getting passionate over passing out plates.”

“Or spilling drinks,” he teased, turning her cheeks crimson.

“I am sorry about that…”

“No, no,” he soothed, trailing a fingertip over her knuckles. “I must say, I have never had such...intimate food service before.”

His golden eyes ran over her, making her skin tingle beneath his appreciative gaze. The air grew thick with electricity, with the scent of desire, emptying her head of words. Somehow, they had moved beyond small talk into something more volatile, more...dangerous.

Then she broke the spell by looking away and pulling her hand from his and putting it on her lap.

He broke the silence, picking her hand up again and cutting to the chase. “Why are we both trying to walk away from this?”

Siobhan didn’t need to ask him what this encompassed because she already knew. From the minute she saw him, her thoughts were jumbled, and even then, it had required effort to not just stand still and stare at him while she memorized every tiny facet of his appearance for future recall and enjoyment.

The pads of his thumbs rubbed gently at the delicate blue-veined skin of her inner wrist. She looked up at him and knew it would be a fatal act, for when she met those stunning eyes she could hardly think straight, never mind breathe.

“Because it’s craziness,” Siobhan whispered, scooting away as if she was trying to steel herself against the feelings running through her veins. “And craziness terrifies me.”

Life had taught her the costs of being anything other than sensible and cautious were likely to be high and painful.

She never took any kind of risks, except for getting a student loan.

Armed only with her irrepressible spirit, Siobhan had been thrilled to discover student loans for which practically anyone could qualify, even an unsecured risk like a fostered orphan such as herself. She’d enrolled in college, taken a job as a waitress, and embarked on her quest to make something of herself. Just what, she wasn’t sure, but she’d always had a feeling something special was waiting around the next corner for her. And maybe, just maybe, on this, the day of her birth, one of her dreams might come true. It’s more than cause to celebrate and not be afraid.

“You make me feel more alive than I have felt in more years than I care to recall, Angel.” His brooding gaze was welded to hers, while he momentarily fought to comprehend the intensity of his desire for her. “That’s not scary, that’s something to celebrate.”

It shook her wholly he was describing exactly what she was feeling. Somehow it seemed to make her reaction to him more acceptable and she shut out the misgivings striving to be heard in the back of her mind. Even as she looked back at him, sensual energy was leaping and dancing through her small, taut frame, tightening the tender peaks of her breasts into taut buds and spilling heat between her thighs in a storm of powerful physical responses, turning her brain to mush.

With a stifled imprecation, Angus bent down and took her lips in a demanding kiss.

Siobhan gasped. His urgency was exactly what her trembling, eager body craved. She felt him peel off her coat. She was locked to the muscular strength of his powerful physique, her breasts crushed against his hard chest, her lips parting in welcome to the erotic plunge of his tongue into her mouth.

In receipt of her response, Angus shuddered, sinking his hands to her hips in the fitted skirt and hauled her onto his lap.

She locked her hands around his neck and kissed him back with breathless fervor.

Angus groaned, trailing his lips down her slender neck in a series of darting, rousing kisses that made her squirm and whimper as he discovered newly erogenous zones of skin.

Her unconcealed enthusiasm only added to his pleasure in her. His tongue flicked her sensitive collarbone and she shivered violently.

Raising his head, he urged, “Stay with me tonight.”

Yes. The power of what she was feeling shocked her. He was a stranger and she knew nothing about him, and most assuredly would have nothing in common with him whatsoever. It was purely a physical craving, but almost irresistible in its pulling power. For the first time, she wondered if something similar had drawn her late mother to her married father, and if she herself was guilty of being meanly narrow-minded and unsympathetic in despising her parent for getting involved in an extra-marital affair.

They weren’t teenagers making out in a car. She might be a good deal less experienced than many teenagers, but she was a grown woman, and he was very definitely an adult male. What happened next was entirely her decision. She thought about saying no and never seeing him again.

She’d weathered misery after misery since she had been put up for adoption. She expected so little in return for her constant sacrifices, but this one aspect of her life—deciding who would introduce her to lovemaking—she could control. And her instincts were screaming she could trust this mysterious stranger. He was so much a man, so male in comparison to the youths with whom she had limited experience. She felt the rigid heat of his erection against her legs, and it both intimidated and excited her, thinking of the effect she was having on him.

Suddenly, being sensible and careful had zero attraction. He made her want to be daring and the sort of female who inspired men to acts of madness. “Yes, I’ll stay.” My birthday gift.

“My place?” At her nod, he pressed a button and in a foreign language gave an order to the driver. Then he reached up to unclip her hair and used his hands to brush the lush mane of blue-black curls to guide the tumbling mass down over her slight shoulders and over her breasts. “You have the most beautiful hair.”

Even if she could, she wouldn’t have told him she thought she had too much hair because his hands were running possessively over her breasts, his thumbs brushing the protuberant nipples that were visible through her thin cotton blouse, his palms smoothing over the full curve of her hips below her tiny waist.

She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his in an experimental fashion while she yanked his silk tie loose and cast it aside.

“You also have the most wonderful shape,” he breathed against her lips, running one hand over her leg and under her skirt. “I can’t decide if I want to have you here, right now, or wait until we get home.”

Now. And after, too. The hungry heat burning through Siobhan was reaching a boiling point of impatience when his fingers toyed with the junction of her thighs. She gasped. Her skin was damp with perspiration, her heart thumping like a road drill while an ache of longing close to actual pain throbbed between her slender legs.

“Open,” he whispered.

Conscious she was taking a chance on him by throwing caution to the winds, she obeyed, shifting on his lap, and was rewarded with his fingers rubbing softly over her panties.

So much unfamiliar sensation engulfed Siobhan a stifled sob of response was dredged from her. The power of what she felt was overwhelming.

“Kiss me,” he breathed, as his fingers went under her panties.

Emboldened by that request, she took his mouth and dipped one of her hands from his hair to touch him with greater intimacy. She traced and stroked his iron-hard chest over his shirt and down to the hard length of his sex, rubbing him.

Ripples of lascivious wanton pleasure enveloped her from the first expert invasion of his finger. His thumb found the tiny bud and lingered there, circling it with devastating effect.

When she began to undulate her hips to his fingers, he thought he’d spill in his trousers.

She pulled back from his mouth, whimpering beneath his sensual torment of sensation, clearly aching for her climax.

With her brows drawn, she met his eyes, and whispered, “Angus.”

In her green depths, there was a hunger for this passion and pleasure, but he recognized that wasn’t all she was longing for. There was a yearning, so raw and furious he was staggered by it.

Then, thankfully her eyelids slid shut, because he was shaken.

“Let yourself go,” he grated in her ear, barely recognizing his own strained voice.

Her desire was the most powerful aphrodisiac he could imagine. Her sheath hugged his finger, shockingly tight as he lazily thrust inside her. “Come for me, Siobhan.”

There was a tight, tormenting ball of need swelling and pushing her to an agonizing pitch of hunger and when he increased the pace of his fingers, she exploded without warning, expectation, or precedent.

Her breath rasped raw in her throat and she let out a silent cry, her sex tightening in spams, over and over as his fingers relentlessly hammered inside her.

“Yeah, give it all to me,” he encouraged, extracting all the pleasure from her body.

With a last shudder and a low moan, she slumped against his chest, and he smiled.

She was so passionate—her responses ungoverned, bare—and she was his for the night, to do with as he would.