Author: Anne Stuart

But none of that would happen, that rosy future would vanish if Adrian lived long enough to reproduce. And Etienne could no longer afford to be patient.

The small village of Huntingdon boasted an indifferent inn, but they were used to the strange comings and goings connected lo Hensley Court, and no one paid any notice to the big Frenchman. They weren't even concerned about traitors. Most of the stupid English expected him to sell them out the first chance he got. They didn't realize that the so-called French government would rather have his head on a pike than theirs.

Fortunately he knew Hensley Court and its grounds very well—he'd been most observant on the

few occasions when he'd been invited to join their silly games. It would be easy enough to slip in unnoticed, once he'd decided how he was going to handle the situation.

In retrospect, he'd clearly been mistaken in thinking things could resolve at their own speed. Instead of getting weaker, Adrian was growing stronger, and there were times when Etienne caught him looking at him with the same cool contempt he saw in Francis's eyes. It infuriated him.

He could blame all this on Miss Charlotte Spenser, a woman who'd never known her place, who had somehow managed to ensnare Adrian when Etienne had done his best to throw women of his own choosing at the man's head. Women who owed him a favor and would do what he told them to.

He took a deep breath. Indeed, it was most aggravating, and it would take days to handle this. He would have to kill them both, of course. Adrian because he stood in the way, Miss Spenser because there was always the remote possibility that she carried an heir.

An heir who would be just as much a bastard as he was. And yet, Etienne had no doubt Francis would contrive to allow his grandchild to inherit the title. His English cousin had had things his way for too long. The loss of a second heir would slow him down where age hadn't managed to.

And how it would gall him to know that Etienne would inherit everything. The pleasure in that was almost better than the inheritance itself. The smug bastard who'd always had everything that should have been Etienne's by right, who'd given back his French title and estates just in time to have them confiscated by the canaille. A man who'd done everything he could to snake sure Etienne was disliked. It would be revenge most sweet.

There were times when he wondered how he had come to this. He'd been a healer—Francis had paid for his medical training and bought him a surgery in Paris, a poor compensation for the title he'd stolen. But still, he'd spent decades helping people. Perhaps it would be tallied into the final reckoning, perhaps not. He wasn't sure he believed in anything after this life.

"I think she's pregnant," Lina said in a disconsolate voice. "And you know what a disaster that is."

"No," said Monty, "I don't. Babies are lovely, new life is divine. If you're worried about what society will think then that's a new experience for you. To hell with society."

"You're right, of course," Lina said, managing a smile. "I tell you what, why don't we move in here with you? Charlotte can have her baby, and we'll make our own odd little family."

"I get to be the mother" Monty said with a faint grin. "I'm not cut out to be a paterfamilias."

"Of course you are. You're very grand and controlling, like all good patriarchs are. You have to get better, though. No lolling about in bed like this. If we're going to have a baby we'll be very busy."

"I'll do my best. Of course, we haven't taken Rohan into account.”

"How did you know it was Rohan?" she asked. "You've been in bed for the last three weeks."

He looked affronted. "Do you think my servants don't report everything to me?"

"Everything?" she said.

"Everything. I do think Rohan might have other plans for Charlotte, my pet. But that doesn't mean I don't want you to move in here. You'll make a perfect mistress of Hensley Court. I've long imagined you here.”

"Bless you, sweetness. I'll marry you. I think we should do very well together. Sexual congress is really a great deal less important than people say."

"Sexual congress is really a great deal more important, my pet. You just haven't had anyone do you right."

"Fat lot you know," she said.

"I do. I know very well how men make love, and I can tell you don't So no, my sweet, I won't marry you. I don't think there'd be time even if I wanted to."

"There'll be all the time in the world," Lina said.

leaving the chair and climbing up onto the bed. curling up next to him.

"If you say so." His voice was faint. "But if, by any strange occurrence, I don't, I'll be very happy to think of you here. I think you should have many, many children."

She was already feeling close to tears, and at this they threatened to spill over. "I can't have children, Monty."

"I think the right man will give you many children.”

"Then I'll need to find the right man," she said with a watery chuckle. "I'll take care of it-She look his frail hand, and they lay there in companionable silence. "Do you think Rohan and Charlotte could possibly be happy? He's a rake and a libertine."

"His father managed to reform with the love of a good woman. Adrian's the man his father is, despite his current shortcomings. I expect he and Charlotte will end up disgustingly happy, doting on each other into old age." He shook his head. "There's nothing worse than a reformed rake. Just look at Simon. He'll probably end up the same. It quite breaks my heart," he said cheerfully.

Lina laughed. "I promise I'll be wicked till the end of my days, Monty."

He lifted her hand to his and kissed it lightly. "We shall see, my precious."

Charlotte rolled over, stretching. Sunlight was coming in through the shuttered windows of the old nursery, and dust motes danced in the air. Adrian lay beside her, sound asleep, naked and beautiful, and she lay back, cradling her head in her arms, and watched him, her eyes sliding over all the mysterious parts of his body that were so different from hers. She felt wonderful, full of life and energy, as if she could dance and fly and sing.

"'Go back to sleep," he muttered, not bothering to open his eyes.

"I can't. I'm too happy."

At that he did open one eye to survey her. "Delighted I could help... If you let me sleep I can do it again and you'll be even happier"

"I can't..." His arm shot out and caught her around the waist, pulling her back against his body. He was cool, lovely, all that flesh against hers, and she could feel his penis begin to stir at her backside, and instinctively her nipples hardened.

He felt them against his arm, having positioned himself deliberately. "Then again, now's as good a time as any," he said in her ear.

She pulled away, and he let her go, reluctantly. She sat up on the bed, looking down at him for a long moment. “Lina’s going to raise a fuss.”

"Then we avoid Lina. She doesn't need to know until it's too late."

"Too late for what?" she asked, confused.

"We'll get married, of course. It's not the best possible solution—I certainly had no intention of marrying anyone, but there doesn't seem to be any help for it. I don't seem to be able to get you out of my system. It requires long familiarity for that to happen—I was enchanted with my favorite mistress for more than two years before I finally tired of her. I fully expect it to take that long with you."

She stared at him, her face expressionless. "And what happens then? If we're married you can't pension me off with a diamond brooch."

He laughed. "It costs a lot more than a diamond brooch to dispense with those kinds of entanglements, my sweet Charlotte. No, we should do fairly well together once society recovers from the shock. Even when desire fades and we move on to other partners I imagine we'll still be friends."

Her skin was like ice. "I would get to move on to other partners as well...?"

"Of course. Would you think I would be so unfair?" He frowned. "Though I must admit that right now the idea makes me furious. But I'll change my mind, of course. I always do."

"You always do," she echoed.

"In fact, that's why it took me so long to get here. I was able to obtain a special license from my godfather, who happens to be the bishop of London. I imagine we could prevail upon Pagett to marry

"I don't think so," she said in her sweetest, softest voice.

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't him to marry us?”

"No, my lord. I don't wish to marry you"

His expression was almost comical. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course you do."

"No," she said calmly. "I do not. You're a cold-hearted, arrogant son of a bitch, and I deserve better."

He just looked at her in astonishment, as if she'd suddenly grown a second head. "I beg your pardon?”

She rose, ignoring her own nudity, and grabbed the Holland cover off the adjoining bed, wrapping it around her with great dignity. "I'm smart, I'm talented, I'm essentially kindhearted and I'm not a complete antidote. I shouldn't have to settle for the kind of cold-blooded union you're suggesting. It's so kind of you to condescend to offer for me, but you can take your proposal, if that's what it was, and stuff it up your bum. I'm worth more, I deserve better, and I'm not settling for someone like you.”

She started toward the door, the heavy linen trailing behind her, and he was up off the bed, at the door before she made it there. He looked confused, furious, bewildered.

"You're not making sense, Charlotte," he said patiently. "The sex between us isn't like ordinary people's. You won't find this with someone else-it's special. I'm offering you the chance to be a viscountess, to have your own establishment, perhaps even children..."