"And you?" he asked softly.

"I'm afraid that you--" Victoria stopped and regarded him uncertainly, and eased herself away from his warm body. Gathering the bedclothes around herself, she regarded Grant with a mute plea that made him frown.

"Victoria," he said, reaching out to gather her hair into a glowing red river that streamed over her shoulder. He touched her with great care, his fingertips barely grazing her fragile skin. "I shouldn't have started this conversation now. You're still exhausted, and I'm pressed for time. But there is no way in hell I'm leaving until you tell me what you're afraid of."

Victoria kept her gaze on the gleaming blue silk counterpane as she replied. "I think you might desire me only because I'm an imitation of my sister." There was no sound from Grant, and after pausing a few seconds, she forced herself to continue stiffly. "Vivien is the one you first wanted...and I could never blame you for that. She's sophisticated and exciting, and all the men desire her. I could never match her in that regard. And I wouldn't be able to bear seeing the eventual disappointment in your eyes when you awaken next to me one morning."

Stunned, Grant wondered where this unexpected well of insecurity had come from. How was it that Victoria could feel so lost in her sister's shadow? Good Lord, the few bedroom tricks that Vivien knew could never give her a fraction of the appeal Victoria held for him. For any man. Victoria was warm, intelligent, giving...and ideal companion in bed and out.

"You sweet...beautiful...lunatic," he heard himself mutter. "How in the hell can you think I would prefer her to you? How could you doubt my feelings? Believe me, I understand the differences between you, and I'm more than capable of deciding what I want."

Annoyed by her doubts of her own worth, he jerked the bedclothes away from her, ignoring her startled exclamation. Easily he caught her wrist and brought her hand down between his thighs. At the feel of her cool little hand pressed against him, he felt an instant throb of desire, and his flesh swiftly burgeoned and rose to full readiness. "Feel this," he said hoarsely, levering himself above her, staring hard into her face as her cheeks pinkened. "Feelme, and look into my eyes, and tell me if you see disappointment."

"You're only proposing to me because I was a virgin," she said, "and you're trying to be a gentleman and do the right thing--"

Grant covered her mouth with his in an ardent kiss, stopping only when he heard a moan of desire caught in her throat."That much of a gentleman, I'm not," he said huskily.

Victoria's doubtful gaze locked with his. "You once told me you weren't the marrying kind."

"I am when it comes to you."

"You don't have to," she said earnestly, pulling her hand away and clenching it by her side. "I want you to understand...you're under no obligation because of what happened. We can part as friends, very dear ones--"

"I don't want a friend. I wantyou. Every day and night. Every minute for the rest of my life." Grant held her tightly and stared into her small, flushed face. What he saw there gave him cause to ask huskily, "Isn't that what you want?"

Her cheeks burned even brighter, and she managed a bobbing nod and a soundlessyes.

"Thank God," he said, smoothing her hair back from her face. "Because I couldn't live without you. Now, is there anything else standing in our way?"

"Your work..." Her voice cracked with painful honesty. "It would be difficult for me to know that you were in danger so much of the time...that each morning you left me, you might not come back. Perhaps if I loved you less, I could bear it...but I don't think I could live like that."

His arms tightened around her. "I've already decided to leave the Bow Street force," he said. "I've spent too many years of my life on the streets. There are other choices open for me now...I'll find something else to occupy myself with."

"Is that what you want to do?" she asked gravely. He nodded and pressed his mouth to her forehead. "Be my wife, Victoria."

Victoria could not reply as she stared into his steady green eyes. She loved him more than she had ever suspected it was possible to love. But there was something inside her, some uneasiness that must be addressed. She tried to uproot the feeling, lay it before her and examine it to find the answers she needed. However, she couldn't do that now. She needed privacy and time to think.

"Let me have a few days," she begged. "I can't make such a decision quickly. I want to go home, to see my sister, and...to find myself again."

Grant frowned and shook his head slightly. "Find yourself? You said you had completely recovered your memory."

"Yes, but I don't feel as if I'm back to my ordinary self just yet. And I'm not ready to start making changes in my life before I've spent a few days of peace and privacy in my own home."

"It's a simple question, Victoria," he said tersely. "Do you love me or not?"

"Yes, I love you." She touched the side of his face gently, her eyes suddenly misting with emotion. "I do love you," she said again, her voice low and fervent.

"Then accept my proposal."

"Not yet," she said, matching his stubbornness with her own.

A frustrated laugh broke from him, and he looked as though he longed to shake her. "Dammit, why won't you just say yes? You're postponing the inevitable."

"I'll give you my answer when I'm able," she said. "But it's too soon. If you'll just be patient..."

"I can't be patient. I want you too badly." Grant's mouth covered hers, and he kissed her in a way that blotted out everything but pure sensation. His tongue played and stroked inside her mouth, and the allure of that small penetration caused her to strain against him hungrily. There was still a bit of linen sheeting caught between them...She struggled to push it away, suddenly needing to feel all his skin against hers. He obliged at once, matching her small body against the greater length of his, rubbing her against a hard plane of muscle and sinew, his sex pulsing and insistent between her thighs. She opened to him, a keening, welcoming sound coming from her throat, and he smiled at her eagerness.

"Victoria," Grant muttered, reaching down between their bodies to the crest of red curls, his clever fingers circling and teasing. "You know you belong to me, don't you?" He spread a touch of moisture across the swollen softness, preparing her for his possession. His mouth pressed against her throat, and he paused to inhale the faint remnant of vanilla fragrance she had applied after her bath the previous evening. The hot silken head of his arousal fitted against her, and she felt him thrust inside her with maddening gentleness.

"More," she said with a gasp, wanting him to press deeper, harder, but he was exquisitely controlled, moving at a leisurely pace that made her writhe desperately.

Grant whispered for her to be patient, to relax beneath him, but she was too much a novice to govern her own responses. Trembling, sweating, she arched upward repeatedly, pulling and clutching at him until he finally relented with a breathless laugh. Obeying her silent demand, he fused their hips together in a tight, deeply satisfying grinding motion that shot pleasure through her like a bolt of lightning. She folded herself around him and purred as sweet release streaked and spread through her, until every inch of her glowed with delight.

"Well," Grant said a few minutes later, his voice muffled between her soft breasts, "that should give you something to think about."

Unable to repress a smile, Victoria circled her arms around his head and pressed a kiss amid the thick black locks. "Hurry," she murmured. "You're going to be late to work...and I should hate for you to have to explain why."

"They won't have to ask," he returned, not moving. "I have the most beautiful woman in England in my bed...Something would be wrong if Iweren't late."

As it happened, Grant arrived at Cannon's office only a few minutes later than usual. He took care to conceal the signs of his good mood as he saw the surly gleam in Cannon's gray eyes. As always, the magistrate's expression was composed, but Grant sensed the welter of thoughts and worries that seethed beneath his facade. No doubt Bow Street was under siege from the press, the public, and the government.

Grant knew that he himself would look nearly as careworn as Cannon had it not been for the night of pleasure in Victoria's arms. It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that the magistrate find a woman for himself. However, Grant wasn't about to stick his nose in someone else's business...especially of a man who was notoriously protective of his privacy.

After asking after Victoria's welfare, Cannon informed Grant that Keyes was in custody at the strong room, and had given a full confession in the presence of Cannon and a clerk. Grant was not surprised by the news, knowing that Cannon could wring a confession from a hearthstone. Keyes would be charged and tried, and all that Cannon would require of Victoria Devane was that she appear in his chambers before the second session that day and have a clerk take down her deposition. The matter was going to be handled as efficiently and quietly as possible, in an attempt not to excite the public any further.

"Victoria won't have to face Keyes in court, then," Grant said, having arrived this morning with an argument already prepared. He would go to hell and back before allowing Victoria to be in the same room with Keyes.

"No, there is no need to put Miss Devane through yet another ordeal," Cannon replied. "Her testimony in chambers, as well as Keyes's own confession, will be sufficient to have him indicted and bound for trial before the King's Bench."

"What of Lord Lane?" Grant asked. "Is he to be arrested this morning? If so, I'll gladly volunteer for the task."

The magistrate paused in the act of lifting a coffee mug to his lips and stared at him with a flicker of surprise. "You haven't heard, then. Lord Lane is dead."

Grant shook his head slightly, not certain he had heard correctly. "What did you say?"

"It seems he suffered an attack of apoplexy last evening, just after your departure from Boodle's."

Grant stroked his shaven chin for a moment, struggling with a mixture of emotions. On one hand, he was glad that the old bastard had finally gone to meet his Maker. On the other hand, he was distinctly sorry that Lord Lane had managed to escape the discomfort and humiliation of being indicted, tried, and punished. "Good," he finally said grimly. "I only wish I'd been able to stay at Boodles long enough to enjoy the show."

The magistrate frowned at the callous comment. "The sentiment is beneath you, Morgan, though I understand its source."

Grant did not respond to the quiet rebuke. He was not sorry in the least for what he had said. In his opinion, Lord Lane's death had been far too merciful, much better than he had deserved. However, something else troubled him, and it would have to be addressed before any plans for his own future could be discussed. "I don't have your dispassionate nature, sir...though God knows I wish I did."

"Well, dispassionate or not, I have an offer for you. One I hope you'll consider carefully."

"What kind of offer?"

"Well...it pertains to the fact that I've just accepted commissions to serve as justice for Essex, Kent, Herfordshire, and Surrey, in addition to the ones I already hold."

Grant threw him a glance of surprise and let out a low, appreciative whistle. The new appointments would extend Cannon's reach considerably. He had been doing the work of two men so far. Now he would be doing the work of six. So far as Grant knew, no police magistrate had ever been granted such authority.

"The public uproar is only just beginning," Cannon continued dryly. "The general consensus will be that I'm power-mad and reaching far beyond my rightful jurisdiction. And perhaps I am. It's only that I can't see another way to deal with crime, other than to regard it as a war that must be waged insideand outside London."

"Then your critics can go hang themselves," Grant commented.

"If only they would," Cannon agreed ruefully.

Smiling, Grant reached out and shook the magistrate's hand. "Congratulations," he said cheerfully. "You've a hell of a job before you. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, but I've no doubt you'll find some way to manage."

"Thank you," Cannon murmured, expressionless save for a sudden gleam of amusement in his wolfish eyes. "Actually, that leads to the question I have for you. I want to submit you as my choice for assistant police magistrate, to serve alongside me."