When the need to have his hands on her, to kiss her, had finally become unbearable, he’d given in, but had forcibly restrained himself, barely touching her. He’d succeeded, but the effort had cost him. He’d desperately wanted to remain by the stream with her, prolong their outing, but he knew his limits, and he’d reached them. One more touch, one more kiss, would have snapped his tenuous control.

He paused by the window, looking down at the expanse of lawns, the soaring trees, and the slice of white-capped blue water visible in the distance. The sight had always soothed him. But not now. Every nerve and muscle pulled with tension, and a sense of frustration such as he’d never known prowled through him. And damn it, it was all her fault.

Dragging his hands down his face, he groaned. Had he actually believed he could resist her? Yes, he had. And perhaps he might have been able to if his attraction had remained purely physical. He’d at least had a prayer of standing his ground against a woman who was merely beautiful. An even better chance if she proved shallow, superficial, and annoying, as he’d assumed Victoria ultimately would.

But how could he withstand the allure of a woman who was not only beautiful, but exhibited so many other facets that he found irresistible? He’d desired her the moment he’d set eyes on her, but each moment spent in her company revealed another unexpected layer of her personality, which only increased his hunger for her.

She’d proven herself unafraid to stand up to him. She was amusing. Witty. Intelligent. She’d offered him sympathy, kindness, and understanding. Believed him innocent of wrongdoing. Tried to befriend his ducks. She liked his cat. His dog. His cat and dog liked her in return. In spite of all her possessions, she’d suffered loneliness, and the fact that she would have given up all those possessions, her beauty, for one more day with her mother…

Damn it, he hadn’t expected her to be… vulnerable. Hadn’t anticipated her touching his heart. Hadn’t wanted to care about her like this. In this heart-tugging, gut-wrenching, mind-numbing way. A woman who would never be his. A woman who, within a matter of weeks, would be engaged to another man.

“Augh!” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids to blot out the torturous image of her lifting her face for another man’s kiss. Enough. He needed to clear his mind of her. Erase the taste and feel and scent of her. Had to start concentrating on the things he should be thinking about. The jewels. So he could either find them or be convinced there was no hope of finding them so he could then pack up his belongings and animals and return to his peaceful life.

A swim. A long, brisk swim in the cold water would set him back to rights. Cool this unwanted ardor and force his thoughts back on the proper path.

Relieved to have a plan, he quickly exited his bedchamber. When he entered the foyer, he asked Langston in an undertone, “Where is everyone?”

“Your brother rode into Penzance with instructions to not expect him until late,” the butler reported in a hushed tone. “Your father, Lady Victoria, and Lady Delia are having tea on the terrace.”

Excellent. He could easily avoid the terrace. “If anyone asks, you haven’t seen me. I’ll return for dinner.”

“Yes, Dr. Nathan.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nathan left the house.


Victoria stirred a lump of sugar into her third cup of tea and nodded absently at whatever Aunt Delia was saying. Not that it mattered that she wasn’t paying attention to the conversation about some party Aunt Delia and Lord Rutledge had both attended over a decade earlier, as she was convinced that her presence was quite forgotten. There hadn’t been a break in the lively chatter between her aunt and Lord Rutledge since they’d sat down to tea an hour earlier. She’d considered excusing herself, but she couldn’t resist the lure of the gorgeous late afternoon weather. And if she remained indoors, she would be alone with her thoughts-not something she cared to contemplate. There’d be plenty of time for that during the long night ahead.

Besides, it was a pleasure to see her aunt so animated and thoroughly enjoying herself. There were a number of gentlemen with whom Aunt Delia occasionally attended the opera, and she never lacked for partners at a ball, but she insisted those men were merely friends of long standing.

Never had Victoria seen her aunt blush. A becoming pink flush colored her face as she laughed at something Lord Rutledge, who was also clearly enjoying himself, said.

A muffled tapping on the flagstones behind her caught Victoria’s attention and she turned. B.C., head held regally high, trotted across the terrace toward her. Upon his arrival, he bumped his massive head against her thigh. With a quiet laugh, she scratched behind his ears while he lifted his nose and sniffed the air.

“Smell biscuits, do you?” she murmured. The eager look in his intelligent dark eyes clearly indicated he did. She broke off a piece of her biscuit and offered the morsel to B.C., who, after eating it, rested his head on her lap and gazed up at her adoringly.

“Hmmm. I suppose I’m to think this attention springs from gratitude, but I suspect it’s because you want more.”

For an answer, B.C. stood at attention, licked his chops, then sent a pleading glance toward the remaining biscuit on her plate. “And I suppose you expect me to share the rest of my last biscuit with you?”

B.C. instantly plopped onto his bottom and raised his right forepaw.

Victoria laughed. “That seems to be your all-purpose answer. Lucky for you, it is quite irresistible.” Breaking the biscuit into several pieces, she’d just offered B.C. the last bit when a flash of white caught the corner of her eye. Turning, she saw a man walking into the woods behind the stables. In seconds he disappeared from sight, but there was no mistaking that it had been Nathan. She shot up from her seat as if ejected from a catapult.

“Heavens, are you all right, Victoria?”

She jerked her gaze from the spot where the forest had swallowed him to look at her aunt. “Yes, I’m fine. A… uh, bee startled me.” She flapped her arms around for good measure. “It’s gone. But now that I’m up, I think I’ll take a walk. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, my dear,” Aunt Delia said.

“By all means, enjoy this lovely weather,” Lord Rutledge said with a smile. “Although the sun will set soon. Take care to return before dark.”

After assuring them she would, Victoria didn’t hesitate another second. Recalling her promise not to wander off alone, she whistled softly for B.C. to join her. The dog fell into step alongside her and she steamed across the terrace like a ship under full sail, determined to find out exactly what Nathan was up to. Oh, yes, it was possible he was just innocently strolling through the forest, but there’d been something distinctly furtive in his manner. Hurrying along with his head down, as if not wanting to be seen. She wouldn’t accuse him again without proof of searching for the jewels alone, but she was determined to do a bit of spying of her own to make certain such proof did not exist.

She shot B.C. a grim smile. “You’d best hope your master isn’t skulking about looking for treasure without me, because if he is…” Her voice trailed off as she was unable to think up a punishment dire enough. “If he is, he’ll have proven himself a liar. Dishonorable. A man of no integrity who does not keep his word.”

Yet, perhaps that would be best. If he were dishonorable, that would surely kill her unwanted attraction to him. She would never remain drawn to a man of poor character, no matter how handsome or charming. She quickened her pace. “Come along, B.C. Let’s find out what the master spy is up to.”

When they entered the forest several minutes later, Victoria moved swiftly along the well-worn path. As they approached the fork, she slowed and looked down at B.C.

“Any idea which way he went?”

B.C. sniffed the air, then headed down the path leading to the lake. Her lips pressed into a grim line, Victoria followed the dog, scanning left and right, looking, listening. But she saw nothing save the trees and greenery, heard only the chirping of birds and the rustling of overhead leaves courtesy of the breeze. Long shadows fell across the trail with the waning rays that harkened to the coming twilight. They were nearing a curve in the path when B.C. broke into a run and galloped around the corner. Seconds later she heard a distinct crashing in the underbrush.

“B.C.,” she whispered as loudly as she dared. Where had that dog dashed off to? Probably after a rabbit or squirrel. Or perhaps he’d located Nathan? Botheration, she had no desire to be discovered by Nathan, as she was supposed to be the one doing the spying. Of course, if he found her, she could simply claim she was out for a walk with the dog. Perfectly true.

She rounded the corner and saw a slender path that led off to the right. As that was the direction in which she’d heard B.C., she followed the trail, trying to step gingerly so as to make the minimum amount of noise. A minute later she caught a glimpse of the lake through the trees. The trail cut sharply to the left, and when she turned, she came upon B.C., who sat, tongue lolling, tail wagging, next to an oddly shaped dark mass she prayed wasn’t the remains of some poor animal he’d hunted down.

“There you are,” she murmured, approaching cautiously, leaning forward, casting a suspicious eye on the strangely shaped thing that showed no signs of life. Her stomach tightened with dread. “Please don’t be a rabbit. Or a squirrel. Or a-”

Boot.

Victoria straightened as if a plank had been shoved down her drawers. Hastening forward to investigate, she discovered it was not a single boot, but a pair of boots. Lying atop a sloppily folded pile of clothing. There was no doubt to whom it all belonged. She’d recognize Nathan’s worn boots and fawn breeches anywhere. And if his clothes were here, that meant he was…

Naked.

Whoosh. A flash of heat engulfed her. He’d told her of his fondness for swimming in the lake. Clearly he’d done so, for she sincerely doubted he was searching for the jewels while…

Naked.

Crouching down, she peered through the dense foliage toward the lake. The water resembled a sheet of blue glass, absorbing the brilliant orange and red reflections of the setting sun on its pristine surface. No sign of him. Drat! Er, excellent. She could scamper off undetected. Her gaze fell to the pile of clothing and she pursed her lips. Hmmmm…

She cast a quick look all around, verifying she was alone, then looked again at his clothing, which seemed to silently chant Take me, take me.

Oh, but she couldn’t. Could she? Some imp inside her told her she most certainly could. He was accustomed to such games-indeed he’d confessed to playing them during his youth. When on earth would she ever be presented with such an opportunity again? Never. Practically chortling with glee, she quickly gathered up the bundle, then stood. After casting one last look toward the lake to make certain Nathan wasn’t approaching the shore, she turned. And froze.

Nathan stood before her. Nathan, dripping wet, his skin glistening, rivulets of water trailing down his body-

Holy. Saints. Above.

Look at his face. Look at his face. But her disobedient gaze did not heed. Instead it riveted on his torso with the stupefied zeal of a thief who’d unexpectedly happened upon a sack filled with money. Beads of moisture meandered down the muscled wall of his chest, clinging to the swatch of dark hair that narrowed into a silky ribbon as it bisected his ridged abdomen… then spread again to cradle his-

Holy. Saints. Above.

She could only stare and be grateful her jaw was attached to her face so it didn’t flop onto the ground at her feet. Dear God, he was… magnificent. While she had nothing to compare him to, there was no doubt Nathan was exquisitely and, er, generously made. Undoubtedly the rest of him-his arms and legs-were exquisite as well, and she’d verify that the instant her eyeballs recalled how to move. She inanely wondered if the Official Spy Handbook addressed this situation: female clothing poacher struck dumb, reduced to drooling, insensate mass with freakishly paralyzed eyeballs by sight of magnificent, exquisite naked wet man.

“Rather like ‘Puss in Boots,’ don’t you agree?”

The sound of his deep, amused voice jerked her from her stupor, and her gaze snapped up to meet his. A devilish gleam danced in his eyes. A witty response would most likely come to her in a year or two. Perhaps three or four. Right now she said the only word she could manage.