Merry ran a finger along the gold lettering on the spine of the book before placing it carefully on the bookshelf. Sat on the cold floor with books scattered around her, her only company was Orion and his whistling snore. Every now and then, his ears would perk up at the sound of a dripping tap or one of the many creaks in the house, but apparently it was far too late for him to get up to mischief, so he had opted to spend most of the evening curled on the rug by the fireplace.

She glanced over at the empty fireplace. The evenings were too warm for fires but once summer was behind them, the study would be lovely once lit by the glow of a fire—the perfect place to continue her translation.

She rubbed Orion’s head and grabbed the next book from one of the many piles scattered about the room. She should be at the main house at this time of night, but she had Orion here to protect her. Harry would probably still have a fit. However, she needed to keep busy.

Not that she minded missing the ball. Of course she did not. Balls had always bored her. Few men ever asked her to dance and even if they did, they quickly discovered her dancing skills were almost non-existent. Most balls were either spent with her friends, tucked away where they would not have to be wallflowers or hiding somewhere alone with a book.

Much like this evening, she supposed.

A tight knot bunched in her throat as she imagined everyone gathered together in a bright ballroom, chandeliers glinting overhead and strains of music whispering through the air. She shoved the book onto the bookcase and snatched up the next. She hoped her friends were having fun. Really she did. And Harry. So what if he was dancing with eligible young ladies? That was a good thing, was it not? Perhaps his attention would be transferred to someone else and she could escape this awful turmoil besieging her when it came to him.

Merry grimaced. Who was she kidding? Even if she was to be a wallflower, she’d rather be at the ball than alone. With Daniel gone and the passing of her father, it did not matter that she had the support of her friends. She really was utterly alone—especially when she could not admit to them the truth of her feelings toward Harry.

Vision blurring, she sniffed and smoothed a hand over Orion’s head. The soft texture of his fur, instead of soothing her, made the tears fall down her cheeks. She was silly to cry—especially over men. Over her father and Harry.

Her father, in particular, would have told her to stop being a silly girl. Would he even care that she mourned him? Probably not. It had been clear since she’d first had some kind of understanding of how a father should be that he saw her as nothing more than a nuisance—an extension of him that disappointed. On the rare occasions he acknowledged her existence, it was with frustration and scorn.

Merry drew in a breath. How silly she was, crying over that man—or any man for that matter. The Spinster Club would not be impressed with her.

A thud from outside the room made her heart give a little leap. Orion lifted his head and cocked it, his ears raised.

“You heard that too?” she whispered.

She stood. It could have been nothing. The house was prone to noises and they were even more pronounced at night while she was alone. But she could not help think of Harry and his concerns for her. What if it was whoever was trying to harm her? Oh dear, Harry would be aggravated indeed if he knew she’d ignored his warnings. Just her luck to run into trouble while everyone is at the ball, enjoying themselves.

Easing out of the door, she made her way down the corridor to the source of the thud. Book in hand, she wielded it like a weapon, ready to strike. The house was dark. The only candles were lit in the study and little light emanated from there now she was farther into the depths of the house. Her mouth dried and her heart beat painfully hard. What would she do if she found an intruder? Beat him senseless? Tie him up perhaps? Find out why on earth this person was trying to hurt her.

Orion crept alongside her, apparently aware of the need for quiet. She had to surprise whoever it was if she wanted to defeat him.

A shadow loomed, another thud echoed. Merry held her breath and lunged forward, swinging the book with all her might. It connected with a body and there was a grunt of pain. Orion barked and dashed forward then stopped. Merry lifted her book, freezing as silvery evening light silhouetted the intruder. She released all the air from her lungs.

“Harry?”

“Yes.” He gave a groan. “What a fine welcome.”

“Oh no.” She grabbed his arm and lead him through into the study. Dressed in full finery, he struck a handsome figure, even with what looked to be a bruise forming on his forehead. She urged him over to the chair to sit down.

Orion looked contrite for his part in the attack and settled himself at Harry’s feet.

“Who knew books were so dangerous?” Harry looked pointedly at the book in her hand.

She set it hastily aside and pushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. “Some would say books were very dangerous, particularly to women’s minds.”

“I do not suppose any of those men who declared such a thing considered they could be just as dangerous in a woman’s hands.”

“I am sorry. I thought you were an intruder.” She lifted a candle and inspected the damage closer. “Why are you not at the ball?”

“I must have had an instinct that you were getting into trouble.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m not in any trouble at all.” He winced when she pressed fingers to the red mark on his head. “At least I was not until you turned up.” She eyed the mark. “I think this shall bruise. You really should not have been sneaking around in the dark. Will everyone not miss you?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. But there will be plenty more balls to attend in future, I’m sure.”

The thought of Harry dancing at more balls with yet more women made her heart twist.

She turned away. “I should find something cool to ease the swelling.”

Harry grabbed her wrist. “No.”

She let her eyes widen at his sudden touch. The feel of his warm fingers on her skin sent a shudder through her. The air around her stilled when she met his gaze. Even Orion must have felt it. From the corner of her eye, she saw the dog lift his head then turn away from them to close his eyes and settle.

A noose of tension tightened around her throat. She gave an experimental tug on his grip and found herself going nowhere. She was not sure if she could anyway. He had her captive. His gaze searched hers and he stood.

Damn him, why did he have to look so handsome in his finery? Why did he have to find her at this most vulnerable moment? But then, had she not been vulnerable since the first time he’d kissed her. He’d had her set off kilter since then, warring with herself against these feelings that would not seem to be pushed away, no matter what the stakes.

Your heart, that voice whispered. That was what was at risk. But that blasted whisper merely sounded eager, as though it wanted her to give it up to him once and for all. There was no denying it—Harry had been a feature in her life for too long for her to dismiss him fully. Yes, he was a rogue. Yes, he was far too charming for his own good. But who had been there for her since her father’s death? And even before that.

“Harry,” she whispered, answering her own question.

He tugged her close. Her limbs were warm, and she could feel the heat rise into her face at the feel of his body flush against hers. He lifted a hand and pressed it to her cheek. She could not help lean into the touch. It eased the empty ache that had been building tonight, as though his very presence could fill her up, could complete her. The thought was terrifying.

And too enticing. Merry closed her eyes.

Harry laced his fingers into her hair. She could feel the hotness of his breath near her cheek as he used the hold he had on her to gently tilt her head upward.

“Balls do not interest me,” he murmured. “How could they? Not when I could be holding you in my arms.” He gave a soft chuckle. “You have ruined me, Merry.”

Ruined. The word should terrify her. Ruination was the one thing that kept them all captive to Society and its whims. A ruined woman was no one. Yet the thought that she might hold such control over Harry sent a warm frisson of power through her. The feeling was fleeting, however. He reminded her who wielded the power by skimming the back of his other hand across her cheek. She felt each bumpy knuckle dancing over her skin with such reverence that her heart swelled to the point she feared it might explode or crack in half—such was the power he held over her.

She should not be allowing him such liberties. She should not even be alone with him. It was all so dangerous.

And enticing.

Her lips parted of their own accord. Harry slid a finger over her bottom lip, then traced the curve of the top. She could resist no longer and opened her eyes. His gaze was dark and intense. She was hard pressed to remember ever seeing such a look before. Could it be true? Could he really care for her as much as he had declared? Could she—plain, frizzy haired, bookish she—really inspire such desire in a man like Harry?

He brought his mouth down to hover above hers. Her lids fluttered closed once more. His breath and the very nearness of him skittered across her mouth. His lips landed first on the corner of her lips. A startled sound escaped her when a hot flush raced through her at this first minor touch.

His lips left hers and skimmed her jaw line, tracing a path to her ear. He took her lobe between his teeth and Merry gripped his arms as shivers ran their fingers up and down her spine. Her knees threatened to buckle, and she gripped him tighter.

He lavished attention on her ear, the curve of her neck, her collarbone, all the while using his hand in her hair to direct her to his will. He pressed warm kisses to her forehead, down her nose, across her cheeks. Her breaths came in hot pants. If he was intending to drive her mad, he was succeeding. Every part of her ached with need. She wanted more of these hot, sensuous kisses but she craved nothing more than his mouth upon hers.

He moaned when she used her grip to pull him tighter against her. Both hands thrust into her hair with increased vigor. His mouth finally found hers and he kissed her with determination, as though resolved to imprint himself on her forever. He needn’t have worried. The first time he had kissed her was enough. Since then, she had been weak for him.

And boy oh boy was she weak for him now. Her legs trembled at the first sweep of his tongue. He kept her held firmly while he explored the depths of her mouth. She tasted his tongue, her body a whirl of sensation. His lips were firm, his tongue searching. She felt every inch of his firm body, including his arousal. Her body pulsed in response to the realization that she was summoning such desire in him.

One hand left her hair and skimmed down her side. It came around to cup her rear and she gasped as she found herself angled against his hardness with even more persistence. Merry slipped her hands up and gripped his neck, keeping him firm against her.

“Merry,” he murmured briefly against her lips before delving deeper.

She stumbled back under the onslaught, taking him with her. Her bottom hit the writing desk by the window and something fell to the floor. Harry lifted her bodily onto the desk and eased himself between her legs. She sucked in a breath and stared up at him. Their gazes locked. She could see his chest rise and fall. The golden candlelight made his gaze darker than ever. It brought out each line in his face, the etchings of his experience, everything that had made Harry the man he was today.

If this were a different situation, she’d want to run her fingers across his face and feel each line and talk of life but not today. Today, she could only think of feeling more. More Harry, more desire, more sensation. She’d spent too long thinking. Too many years and months and weeks thinking. For once in her life, she only wanted to feel.

He cupped her cheek and gripped her rear, notching his arousal against her through the layers of fabric between them. She moaned.

He wasted no time in bringing his mouth down upon hers. The heat built once more and increased as he rocked against her. Sweet sensations built between her legs and she could only hold on, powerless, as he kissed and rocked and kissed and rocked until the feelings crested and washed over her. She shuddered in his arms and he gentled his kisses, shifting them from her mouth to her cheek then her forehead. He finally rested his forehead against hers, stroking a thumb across her cheeks while his other hand rubbed soothingly up and down her back.

Finally, he drew away. A slight smile pulled at his lips, but his gaze was troubled. “I did not mean for that to happen, Merry.” He drew in shaky breath and pushed a hand through his hair. “You have a tendency to make me lose my mind.”

She readjusted her skirts about her but could not bring herself to stand yet. If she did, her legs would probably give way. Her blood still flowed warm, but it was slowly being replaced with cold shock at what she’d done. If he had wanted to, he could have probably taken her. All her principles would have been swept away. She swallowed hard.

“I think...I think you should leave.”

A furrow appeared between his brows. “I did not come here to seduce you.”

“Did you not?”

“I came to ensure you were safe. You cannot ask me to leave now.”

“I have to. I cannot let this...” She waved a hand between them, “keep happening.” She stood and straightened her shoulders, hoping she looked stronger than she felt.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“I do not. You talk of my past, of my behavior. Men can change, can they not? Surely you have seen the change in me, Merry. You’re the one responsible.”

“I’m not sure I want that responsibility.” The words were a lie. Oh, how easy it would be to give herself up to him and let herself believe it all.

“Merry, I know you too well. Do not fib to me.”

“Harry, there are too many reasons...”

“You have given me one. One that I will disprove over and over again, year after year, if you let me.”

Lord, how her heart fluttered at the idea. How wonderful it would be to receive his kisses...and more...for the rest of her days, to share in his life, to always have him by her side. It was a dream that was too good to be true.

“I...it’s the curse too,” she spilled out, unsure if she needed to convince him or herself. “And other things,” she finished quietly.

“The curse?” A laugh burst out of him. “You mean the gypsy curse?”

She folded her arms and lifted her chin. “Our family has never had a happy marriage.”

He shook his head. “You are too logical to believe in curses. You’re using it as an excuse.” He moved close, making her back up against the desk again.

She held up a palm. “My friends,” she blurted. “I cannot.”

“Your friends?”

She bit down on her lip and lifted her gaze to his. “I promised them. I promised them I would remain...a spinster.”

“Why the devil would you promise such a thing?”

“Because they are my friends. Because they needed me. Because...” She twined her hands into her skirt fabric. “You would not understand. You are a man.”

“You’re right. I do not understand. What sort of friends would deny you happiness and love?”

“They have not denied me anything.” She lifted her chin. “They have no idea what has happened...between us.”

She whispered the last words, fearful of saying them too loud. If she admitted it aloud, it might seal them together forever, and then what? She would probably get her heart broken and her friends would be so upset with her. The Spinster’s Club was all her idea after all. What sort of a friend would she be if she gave up on it already?

Harry eyed her and sighed. “I’m not giving up on you, Merry.”

She blinked at him. “You should.”

“I do not suppose you shall let me walk you home.”

Merry folded her arms across her chest. She could not decide whether she was glad or not that he had yet to give up on her. After all, if he did not, it would mean more of his kisses, more of his attention. It was foolish of her to want more. She would only have to fight against her feelings again.

“I am going to stay here tonight.”

“Lock the doors and check the windows. Anyone could get in.” He grinned. “As lethal as you are with books, I do not fancy your chances against someone more determined.”

“More determined than you?”

“You know what I mean.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before she could back away. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

“Or you could stay home.”

He gave her a look that she knew meant she had more chance of holding back the tide. “I’m still responsible for your safety.”

She opened her mouth to protest but he left the room before she could summon a response. Sagging back against the desk, she touched a finger to her lips, feeling their swollen warmth. Somehow, she’d have to steel herself further against him. Goodness knows how she would manage that after what had just happened. As hard as she tried, Harcourt Easton had pried inside her heart and embedded himself there. It would take more than books to keep him at bay.