He was sapped; he had just enough in him to push another explosive ejaculation. Just enough to untie her hands and tumble her into the bed. Just enough to kiss her and pull her against his quivering body. Just enough to cup her breast, and to fall asleep with her nipple shaping beneath his palm. Just enough… it was… just enough-he needed nothing more.

Voluptuous. Her whole body felt swollen, languid, satiated; she wanted to just wallow in bed with him after her father left for his morning calls. She wanted to lounge in the circle of his body all day, all night, forever. The last thing she wanted was company in the morning or even to leave the house for her usual morning carriage ride.

But there was Ancilla at the door with news of the morning line, and there was no way to turn her away, even knowing Jeremy was in the bedroom above dressing-blast it-and slipping down the back stairs.

"They say Mr. Raulton will make his determination within the month," Ancilla announced as she settled herself on the couch and poured a cup of tea. "The odds on that are twenty-to-one. Father said, anyway."

"You are remarkably well informed on Mr. Raulton's comings, goings and matrimonial propensities," Regina said, barely absorbing this up-to-the-minute information.

"The whole of London is agog at his new diversion. Imagine him desiring marriage at all. He wants a wife who is wealthy, who wishes to be married, who is not carnal, and who will allow him his digressions. That is not you, my dear Regina."

"No," she murmured, "that is not me. Whoever wagers on that will go down hard." And what would she wager that her affair with Jeremy would last beyond the end of the month as well? How did a woman sustain a carnal life hour by hour, day by day? After this morning, she wasn't sure she wanted to live that way any longer; only her father's dire prediction of her fate stopped her.

And now the morning line, putting Raulton in church and walking down the aisle in less than a fortnight.

Well, people had very little else to do between private parties and the weekly Assembly Rooms. Why not elevate Raulton's private affairs to public property? It amused everyone and harmed no one, except the innocents whose names were in play.

And she, Regina, was no longer an innocent.

She rang for the carriage and brought with her the books she must return to the lending library, the most innocuous place she could think of where running into Mr. Raulton would not be the prevailing sport of the day.

And yet, there he was, and she could have inferred that perhaps he had been watching for her and following the carriage.

He was all politeness. "What a pleasant surprise. You frequent Hatchard's, then? They do have a fine selection. What authors do you favor?"

And Ancilla watching this all with her skeptical eye. Regina fumbled over every word, her mind wholly on Jeremy and not even attending to Mr. Raulton's attempts to engage her.

She felt crowded, suddenly, and too much the center of attention when he was around.

Not so Ancilla, who was critiquing his manners later that evening when they met at the Weydeanes' house for a sit-down dinner. "He can be very pleasant," she observed as they were being seated. "Come to think, he has been exceptionally pleasant at every function."

But here, Regina thought thankfully, was one place he would not be.

That hope was short-lived. He arrived late, profuse with apologies, somehow having wangled his way onto the Waydeanes' guest list. How, how, how? And yet the answer was almost immediately clear: two eligible heiresses were at table, two whose names were linked with his.

The following Wednesday it was Almack's where he prowled, and eventually came around to Regina, Sally Jersey in tow to give permission for Regina to engage in a waltz.

"Mr. Raulton."

"Come." He smiled at her, held out his arms, and she stepped into them warily as the music began.

"This is outside of enough," she whispered fiercely. "What will the odds makers give on the prospective with whom you waltz?"

"At least another half percent," he answered amiably. "But what do you care, Lady Regina? You're a little bit of the rebel as it is."

Not anymore. Never again. It was too draining maintaining a facade of indifference to all this attention.

"Do not offer for me, Mr. Raulton. I am far too demanding and outspoken for you."

"That is the very thing that attracts me."

On the sidelines, Reginald watched. They were having conversation. Everything she had vowed not two weeks ago was coming true. His reputation mattered not. She would tame him, and she would have him, and there they were, dancing like partners of old, the raciest of dances in which he must hold her. And they were close enough to talk.

"Reginald." Jeremy, thank heaven.

"Well, there they are, and the Book makers are rubbing their hands with glee. He will offer for her for sure, and then where will I be? There is nothing ahead but ruination and degradation."

Jeremy stared at them as they whirled around the perimeter of the room. It was almost as if Raulton wanted everyone to see them, almost as if he were declaring himself. Or using her.

His hands clenched. Raulton would not have her. Damn him to hell.

"He's using her only. Imagine how deep his wagering against the Book. Come now, Reginald, it's not as bad as it looks."

"It looks like she's enjoying every moment, Jeremy, and by damn, I'd sooner immure her in a convent than see her marry him. Hell, I'd sooner see her marry you…"

And he stamped off, leaving Jeremy utterly at point non plus.

Marry her? MARRY her?

He will never marry me… here is the endgame of all my folly… it is ever as women have been warned: a man will not commit to what he can have for the asking…

And there is always a woman waiting to be asked…

Even marriage to Mr. Raulton is preferable to being a spinster and alone-

Being a mistress is not all glitter and gold.

The only best part is, no one ever has to know…

It colored everything, the whole muddle about Mr. Raulton.

"But you will have everything you said you de-sired,"Ancilla pointed out. "You said you would tame him and then marry him, and here he is, practically on bended knee, and you have reservations?"

"It was but a joke, party conversation, Ancilla. It never occurred to me it would go so completely out of control."

"His attentions to you are marked, now, even though he spreads himself between the two other possibilities. But he comes back to you again and again. There is no doubt he will offer for you."

If he offers for me, I don't know what I'll do.

Marry her?

What if he offers for her?

Damn and hell. Things are perfect the way they are-hut blast it, every woman wants to he married. Even her. Damn damn damn…

If he touches her, I'll kill him…

Or some other man touching her… taking all that voluptuous carnality for his own…?

He felt murderous. Hell and damn, damn and hell.…

… marry her…

… have her all the time, any time… only his… no worry about boring her, wearing her out, or the end of the affair and who would be fucking her next… her allegiance, her body, her nipples, her sex would be his, and only his...

How could he live without it?

Marry her-the natural continuation of the pleasure game-

Marry her…

"If he offers," Regina said tentatively-and there was no great assurance that he would-"I will accept."

Reginald closed his eyes wearily. "I suppose that is the only choice. It is not the one I would have made for you."

"It has all been given too much prominence; I can see noth-ing else to do, particularly since, as you pointed out, this notoriety will not die down anytime soon."

And there it was, out in the open. It was but two days till the end of the month, and Raulton supposedly was poised to make a declaration. London was holding its collective breath.

Blast it. That a man could force someone to accept marriage despite her wishes just because everyone expected it… it was by the force of society's wishes-and mores-that she had come to this pass.

And everything with Jeremy must end.

But if Raulton didn't come up to point? Must she relinquish Jeremy then?

She paced the library long after her brief conversation with Reginald. This was a hard-won lesson. The freedom she coveted, sexual or otherwise, was a fantasy of her own devising. She was not free. She was in thrall to the expectations of her social peers and to propriety.

And not to her dark, voluptuous nights with Jeremy.

At the end of it all, she still wanted marriage and children, and she did not want to spend her days and nights worrying about the hour, the minute that he would tire of her, and what would come next.

She wanted, she needed a life beyond the bedroom walls.

With Raulton or not. She had not the temperament to be a mistress, after all. Only the will, the body, the desire, the insatiable need…

But not the temperament… she was as prosaic as any country miss, and as provincial. She could not slough off those feelings, those fears, and that was the difference between her and a mistress.

And if it turned out to be Raulton, then so be it. And so she would tell Jeremy-tonight.

Marry her.

The idea was slowly sinking in, and it suddenly occurred to him that he was not seeing her as that pesky child he had known for years now that he had been bedding her.

He saw her as a woman, with a mind of her own, and with a spectacular beauty, presence and elegance.

And that was apart from her sexuality. That was a thing all its own that could not be quantified. And so, if just the thought of her aroused him to the point of ejaculation… how could he live with the idea of her giving herself, giving her nipples, to another man?

Fucking like that with another man?

Any other man?

Raulton?

By damn hell-NO…

No one else, not her, not that body, not those nipples…

Shit-he was erect, hard as bone. Her nipples got to him every time, even the thought of them in some other man's hands…

NO…

No.

Marry her.

And play with her nipples for the rest of your life…

He came, as always, like a shadow in the night, and like the mistress she was, she waited for him, this time for the last time, to savor him, to make indelible memories before she said goodbye.

He needed no foreplay; she was naked and hot for him already. He needed only to slip the key in the lock, and his penis into her heat, to bind her to him yet again.

…fuck her…

… marry her…

… fuck her again…

… and again…

… and again…

He spurted, he came, he fucked her again.

And again. And again.

And again.

He fucked her to a faretheewell, and then he fucked her again, forward, backward, on her breasts, on her nipples, in her luscious, endless pleasure hole, he took her.

And when they were both panting, satiated and utterly worn out, he took her again.

It was almost as if he wanted to imprint himself on her, to fuck her and fill her to the point where no other man could take his place.

… marry her...

Somehow, she thought, in a swamp of luxuriant pleasure, somehow he knew this was to be their last time.

He knew nothing except he never wanted to leave her.

Or leave her to another man.

He wanted to root in her. Play with her. Fuck her to the wall.

Marry her.

Dawn was coming far too soon.

"Jeremy…"

'Not now. I need your nipples."

"You always need my nipples."

"True, and it's something to seriously consider."

Light filtering through the curtains signifying a beginning and an end.

She caught her breath as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across her distended nipple. "Jeremy…"

"Shhh…"

Now, she had to say it now-but she could barely speak because of those familiar skeining sensations unfurling inside her and causing instant fuck me now feelings…

Don't stop, don't stop…

He had to stop.

"Jeremy…!"

THUMP THUMP THUMP…

"Regina!"

"Oh, God-Father!" She made to cover her breast, but Jeremy would not let her go.

"Shhh…"

"Regina, are you there? Wake up! I have news… the most incredible news…"