She immediately sobered. Pressing her lips together, she averted her gaze. Then drew a breath and faced him again. "I'm very flattered, but-"

Reaching out, he gently pressed his fingers to her lips. "Why don't we leave it for now at 'I'm very flattered?'" He flashed a smile, one he prayed didn't looked as forced as it felt, then lowered his hand. "I find that statements that follow the word 'but' are generally not very encouraging."

"But that is just the point. Although my actions of last evening may understandably indicate otherwise, I do not wish to encourage you."

"Me in particular? Or gentlemen in general?"

"Gentlemen in general. But especially not you."

He winced. "Ouch. That loud crash you just heard was my manly ego smashing to bits."

She reached out and briefly laid her hand against his upper arm. If he'd been capable of levity, he would have laughed at the fissure of heat that raced through him at the innocent gesture. "You misunderstand me. I say especially not you because… I like you. I don't want to hurt you."

He quirked a brow. "Do you intend to cosh me with an iron skillet? Or perhaps a fire poker? Heavy rock? Shove me down the stairs?"

Her lips twitched. "Of course not."

"Then I fail to see how you could possibly hurt me."

She turned to look at the painting above the mantel, and he followed her gaze. Edward smiled from the canvas, his handsome face frozen in time. A life-sized ghost captured in oil paint.

Daniel pulled his gaze away from the painting to look at her. "I see. You've told me about your devotion to Edward, your wish to never remarry, and I understand." But though he claimed to understand and didn't begrudge Carolyn her feelings, he simply couldn't comprehend that profound depth of love. The sort that owned one's entire heart and soul. "You're afraid that because your heart isn't free, you'll hurt my tender emotions."

She moved to face him, then nodded. "At the risk of sounding horribly full of myself, yes. I've no desire to hurt either of us."

"At the risk of sounding horribly full of myself, I do not allow my tender emotions to enter into any of my liaisons." He gave her a quick grin. "Indeed, history has shown that I'm quite lacking in tender emotions, so you need not worry. And like you, I've no desire to marry."

She raised her brows. "What of your title?"

He shrugged. "I suppose I'll have to get leg-shackled someday, but I've no intention of considering it until I'm in my dotage. If I happen to cock up my toes before the deed is done, I have two younger brothers."

Another layer of crimson washed over her cheeks, and he had to fist his hands to keep from cupping her face between his palms and kissing her until neither of them could catch their breath. "You're suggesting we have an affair."

Bloody hell, yes. Starting immediately, if not sooner. "I'm suggesting we see where last night's kiss leads us," he replied cautiously, not wanting to see her sprint from the room in panic, "although I admit I have a very good idea where that will be."

"Which is an affair."

"Yes."

The flash of heat in her eyes told him she was tempted. But then her gaze flicked to the portrait and she shook her head. "I've never… I cannot." Another shake of her head. "I'm sorry."

Reaching out, he lightly clasped her hands. "I know how much you loved him. Still love him. He was, in every way, a man to be admired. Do you not think he'd want you to live?"

"Yes, but…" Her words trailed off and he could easily see how torn she was.

"I don't require your heart. In truth, I've absolutely no wish for it."

Confusion clouded her eyes. "Then what do you want?"

"Is it not obvious? I want you. Your company. Your laughter." He gently squeezed her hands. "I want you as my lover. In my bed. Or your bed… or wherever our encounters may take us. Your heart can remain your own. As mine shall continue to belong to me. Your body, however…" His gaze skimmed slowly down her form.

"Would be yours?" she asked in a husky whisper.

"Yes." He resettled his gaze on hers. "As mine would be yours."

"For how long?"

"For as long as we wished. Until one of us no longer wanted to be involved."

"Just a temporary, carefree liaison, based solely upon physical gratification." She sounded both skeptical and intrigued.

"Yes. Except you forgot to mention discreet. No one would know except us."

"How do I know you wouldn't tell anyone?"

"First, because I give you my word of honor I wouldn't. And second, I don't like to share. Anything. But most especially the private details of my life."

"I… see."

"I would protect you in every way. Including against pregnancy."

Her gaze briefly dipped downward. "That… that wouldn't be necessary. After seven childless years of marriage, I finally had to accept that I am unable to conceive."

There was no missing the sadness in her voice, and he gave her hands another gentle squeeze.

"You are a stunning, desirable woman. And passionate as well-something that, based on your reaction to our kiss, I think you've lost sight of."

A frown whispered across her face. "I fear you're reading too much into it. My reaction was an aberration."

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was."

"I see I shall simply have to prove you wrong." And with those words he erased the distance between them with a single step and covered her mouth with his, instantly falling into the same dark abyss of want and need he'd plunged into last night. A fiery, shadowy place where only the two of them existed. A place he never wanted to leave.

Forcing himself to move with a deliberate lack of haste, one in complete contrast to the urgency pounding through him, he released her hands and slid his around her waist, drawing her against him until they touched from chest to knee. For several seconds she remained stiff, then with a soft moan wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips.

If he hadn't been so consumed with need, he might have savored the triumph. Instead, he tightened his hold on her and sank deeper into the kiss, his tongue exploring the delicious, velvety warmth of her mouth. With each passing second he felt more and more as if he were being pulled into a carnal vortex from which there was no escape. Not that he wanted to get away. God no. In fact, they weren't nearly close enough.

With a groan he slid one hand down to the small of her back. His palm pressed against the base of her spine and his fingers splayed over the curve of buttocks, urging her tighter against him. His erection pressed into her and his hips involuntarily flexed, a slow thrust that dragged a growl of pure want from his throat.

He lost all concept of time. Knew only that no matter how long he kissed her it wasn't long enough. Heart hammering, he somehow found the strength to lift his head, but only far enough to trail his lips along her jaw. Down the curve of her fragrant neck. All the while absorbing the sweetly erotic sounds emanating from her parted lips. He glided his tongue along the side of neck, tasting her warm, flower-scented skin, then gently sucked on the spot where her rapid pulse beat. No woman had ever tasted so delicious.

With an effort that cost him, he finally raised his head. And bit back a groan of intense longing at the sight that greeted him.

With her eyes drooped to half-mast, her cheeks flushed crimson, and her lips parted and kiss-swollen, she looked thoroughly and deliciously aroused. Keeping one arm wrapped around her waist to hold her anchored securely against him, he raised a non-too-steady hand and brushed the backs of his fingers across her warm, satiny smooth cheek.

Her eyes fluttered the rest of the way open and he stared into their deep blue depths. And felt himself drowning all over again.

"Still think last night was an aberration?" he asked, his voice low and rough with arousal.

He didn't recognize the expression that ghosted over her features, but it clearly wasn't happiness. Indeed, it looked more like defeat. "Apparently not," she conceded. "But-"

He cut off her words with a quick kiss. "Remember what I said about statements that follow the word 'but' not being very encouraging?"

She opened her mouth, clearly intending to argue further, when a knock sounded on the door. For several seconds she froze, then with a gasp she pulled away from him, as if he'd burned her, and smoothed her hands over her hair and gown in an agitated gesture.

"You look fine," he assured her, jerking his jacket into place. "Although by 'fine' I actually mean 'perfect.'"

And by God, she did. Perfectly kissed, he decided, as he mentally cursed the interruption. Although, perhaps it had actually come at the ideal time. They'd just shared what he would describe as another extraordinary kiss, and she hadn't had time to raise any objections. Indeed, he should grasp this opportunity to depart and leave her to recall just how incredible their kiss was. And hopefully leave her wanting more.

"Come in," she called.

The door opened and the dour-faced butler who'd shown Daniel in entered bearing a silver salver upon which sat a trio of calling cards. "Visitors to see you, my lady. Lady Walsh, Lady Balsam, and Mrs. Amunsbury. Are you at home?"

Her gaze shifted to Daniel. "I must be going," he said quickly. "I've several appointments scheduled."

She nodded then said to the butler, "You may escort Lord Surbrooke to the foyer, then show the ladies in, Nelson."

"Very good, my lady."

She turned back to Daniel. "Thank you for the honey."

"You're welcome. Will you be attending Lord and Lady Gatesbourne's soiree this evening?" He assumed she would, as their daughter, Lady Julianne, was one of her closest friends.

She hesitated. "I've not yet decided."

And in that instant he knew that he was the reason she wasn't certain if she'd attend. Clearly she didn't know if she wanted to see him again. Her decision whether to attend would reveal a great deal, he decided.

Forcing himself not to touch her, he merely made her a formal bow. "I hope to see you there, my lady. And please remember to take care and not go out alone." He then crossed to the doorway and forced himself to follow Nelson from the room without looking back.

In the foyer, he exchanged greetings with Kimberly, Lady Balsam, and Mrs. Amunsbury, all of whom eyed him curiously.

"And what brings you to Lady Wingate's home?" asked Lady Balsam, brushing away one of her turban's peacock feathers from her cheek.

Daniel forced a smile. The beautiful, haughty countess was one of the most notorious gossips in the ton. "Merely a neighborly visit, as my home is only two doors away. After I heard the shocking news about Lady Crawford's death, I decided to check on Lady Wingate to make certain she was all right."

"Quite the knight in shining armor," said Kimberly, eyeing him with amusement. "Is she all right?"

"I'm happy to report she is fine. And I'm very glad to see all you ladies are fine as well." Curious as to the reason for their visit, as he wasn't aware that any of the ladies were particularly close friends of Carolyn's, he casually asked, "What brings you calling on this lovely day?"

"We were on our way to Regent Street to visit the shops when Lady Walsh suggested we call upon Lady Wingate to see if she'd like to join us," reported Mrs. Amunsbury. She held her nose hoisted so high in the air, Daniel wondered that she didn't regularly tip backward. "We're all so delighted she is getting out in Society again."

"Yet now we must be concerned about a murderer running about," said Lady Balsam with a sniff. Daniel barely refrained from looking toward the ceiling. God forbid anything should have the gall to come between the countess and her visits to the shops. "Terrible business, the murder is," she continued, "but really, whatever was Lady Crawford thinking, lurking about in the mews? Asking for trouble, for a lady to venture there."

Although he agreed, he had no wish to discuss the matter further. After offering the ladies a formal bow, he left. As he made his way down the flagstone steps then the short path leading to the black wrought-iron gate, he pondered Lady Balsam's words and wondered who or what had led Blythe to the mews. Her adventurous spirit wasn't the sort that would lead her to expose herself to unsafe areas. Which could only mean she'd either expected to meet someone in the mews-someone who either hadn't shown up, leaving her at the mercy of whoever killed her-and that person had killed her. Or she hadn't gone into the mews alone, and the companion who accompanied her there killed her. Which meant that the murderer had attended the masquerade. Like everyone else, he could only hope the culprit was quickly caught and brought to justice. And that Rayburn, and especially Mayne, would turn their attention away from him and concentrate on finding the real murderer.