"What?"

"Or one like it. I should say. Almost like it."

"But, Nikolas, that's not-"

"Hush." He silenced her with a finger pressed gently to her lips. "Let me explain. When I saw this one, I knew. They were obviously made as a set, identical except for the size. This is the largest. I would think, the one Weston has would be the smallest, unless, of course, there are more than three. Mine-the one I saw-is a size between the two. They must have been meant to nest inside one another, do you see? Like Chinese boxes."

Rhia nodded automatically…then shook her head, because she didn't see at all. "But why should that upset you? So, they're a set-even I could see they're the same. So what? Where did you see this other one? Are you sure it's even the same?"

His lips curved in an odd, bitter smile. "Oh, yes. I'm absolutely sure. It was mine, you see. Or rather, my uncle's. When I was a child, growing up, I kept my stuff in it-my bits and pieces. My favorite toys, books, the odd treasure I'd found. So I could hardly mistake it, could I?"

He watched her face as he said it, amazed at how easy it was to utter the words after all, and how swiftly the unthinkable became reasonable and logical when shared with someone else. And how relieved he felt, as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

He saw her eyes narrow slightly and take on a kind of glow, like a hunting tiger's. "So…your uncle must have been working for Lord Vladimir-he had to be." Her voice was hushed, vibrant with excitement. "He was probably someone very close to him, too-a valet, maybe. His right-hand man. Someone he trusted with your care and upbringing, anyway. You know what that means? It means…"

Nikolas nodded. "If anyone knows where the bounder is. It's Silas Donovan. We have to talk to him, Nik."

For a long moment they simply looked at each other, her hands tense on his shoulders, his on her sides, his fingers curving around her slender torso, his head tipped slightly back. And as he gazed at her shimmering eyes and raptly parted lips the thought finally came clear to him like a gentle explosion, the pop and sizzle of a Chinese fireworks candle, to sear itself forever into his consciousness: I love this woman.

The pain that had twisted like a knife in his belly for weeks was gone. Now, instead of dread when he thought about the future, he felt full of optimism, even excitement. If his becoming king was what it was going to take to bring democracy to Silvershire, he'd do it, by God-as long as Rhia de Hayes consented to be his queen. With her by his side, he could face any challenge, defeat any foe. Never mind the fog outside the windows, the growing darkness in the room; in Nikolas's soul the sun had come from behind the clouds and was shining warm and bright.

"Nik?"

"Yes, luv?"

"Do you know where he is-Silas-" Her voice seemed to snag on a breath. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm bedazzled. It's merely one of the hazards of being this close to you-another is that I keep getting this dangerous desire to make love to you on the spot." He saw a lovely pink flush creep across her cheeks and thought of soft, sweet things…like kittens and rose petals.

"I do know where we might find him," he said softly as he moved his hands stealthily upward under her jacket. "But there's nothing we can do tonight…not until Elliot gets back with the chopper. And in the meantime…didn't we leave something rather important unfinished?"

"You mean…supper?" Her lips curved with her kitty-cat smile.

He laughed and said huskily. "No…dessert."

Inside the jacket her body was warm and humid, and her breasts seemed to swell when his hands covered them, to make a perfect fit. He watched her eyes as he spread his fingers slowly, absorbing her softness, learning the shape of her. rejoicing at the eager leap of her nipples into the cups of his palms, and the way her eyelids grew heavy with desire.

Rhia felt herself sway into him, though her hands were stubbornly braced on his shoulders, and she'd told herself she couldn't possibly think of sex right now, that her mind should be occupied with the search for Vladimir, and her feelings caught up in the tangled skein of Nikolas's emotions. But her body wasn't buying it. Instead, it did impossible things: her heart turned over, the bottom dropped out of her stomach, her knees turned to water.

"How do you do that?" she asked in a thickened voice.

"This?" Catching an erect nipple between each thumb and forefinger, he teased them gently…then harder, his lips slowly curving into a smile as he watched her eyes.

She gasped; sensation, sharp, bright and fierce, arrowed straight down through her body and converged on the pulse-spot between her thighs. "No-I mean…how do you just… forget it? Put it all aside? How can you think of sex with all that's- Oh..my g-Nik-"

"It's my Y chromosome," he said softly. "We men can compartmentalize. For example…right now…" His fingers were doing incredible things to her breasts, things she felt with every exclusively female nerve ending in her body. "Right now…the only thought in this awful male brain of mine is how much I want to put my mouth here…feel your softness on my tongue…taste you…"

She couldn't think…couldn't see. And she gripped his shoulders now, not to fend him off, but to keep herself from toppling over.

"My sweet Rhia…tell me-are you thinking of sex right now?"

Her laugh was almost desperate. She barely managed to produce a whisper. "You know the answer to that."

"Then…will you take this off for me? Please, my love. Holding her eyes with his. he brought his hands upward under the two halves of her jacket and moved them apart… peeled them slowly back…pushed them over her shoulders. The soft leather whispered as it slid to the floor. "And this?" He teased her pullover up just far enough to bare a wide strip of her torso to his warm, exploring hands, leaving it for her to take from there. He closed his eyes and drew a rapt breath. "Ah…luv… you feel so good to me."

A shudder of desire jolted her as she pulled her sweater over her head. He murmured something soothing and moved his hands around and spread them wide across her back to support her as he brought his mouth to her unguarded breast. Freed of clothing, her arms settled like wings around him. and a fine velvety warmth enveloped one nipple…then the other, leaving the abandoned one cold and bereft, and hardening painfully against the moistened lace of her bra. A moan slipped from her lips almost unnoticed.

His wandering fingers found the clasp of her bra. And this, my love…will you take this off. too?" His face swam before her in deepening shadows…his voice was a low. hypnotic murmur, almost felt rather than heard. It seemed to weave a web of enchantment over her, leaving her powerless to speak or to move.

But not to think.

My love…my sweet: does he even realize he's saying those words?

His fingers slipped under the straps of her bra and eased them down her arms, turning even that into a caress so tender and erotic it made her stomach quiver. And when, on their return journey, those same fingers traced a new path along the under-curve of her breasts, and his mouth, exploring… tasting… discovered a bared nipple chilled and longing for its return embrace, she felt pressure swell in distant nerve-rich places…and her neck muscles melt and her eyelids drift down like velvet curtains.

And if he does realize it…does he mean them, or are they just…words?

She swayed dizzily…her fingers burrowed deep in his hair while his parted lips feathered downward over her stomach and his clever fingers released the buckle on her belt.

"I want to see you…taste you…touch you…all of you. Will you let me, sweet Rhia? Do you want that, too?"

"Yes…oh-please…"

His fingers…magic fingers…eased the zipper down… slipped between flesh and fabric and shucked away the last of her barriers, and in the same swift motion, claimed what he'd uncovered for his own. She stepped out of her clothes, clinging to his shoulders for support, and felt his knee push between her trembling legs.

He tilted his head back to look at her and whispered hoarsely. "Kiss me, now, my dearest Rhia…come to me, love."

And if he does mean them? Oh… what if he does mean it…?

She remembered, then, what she'd said to Zara. Was it just this morning? I told her it would be worse if he did…and it is…oh, it is!

She gave a shaken, whimpering cry; had she ever made such a sound before"? Blindly, she lowered her mouth to his. and it was a little like hurling herself into a bottomless sea. Immersed…lost…she scarcely felt it when a second knee pressed between her thighs, barely knew when her trembling legs gave way and his strong hands guided her down and settled her naked onto his lap.

While she waited in quivering anticipation, legs apart, her feminine places open like a blossoming flower, exposed and vulnerable to his clever, questing fingers, his hands moved unhurriedly almost lazily over her body, scattering hot-cold shivers across her skin wherever they touched. The rough fabric of his shirt abraded her tender nipples, and her hands gathered it convulsively across his shoulders, tugged at it in frustration, wanting only his naked skin touching her. Anything else was torture.

And his mouth…his mouth consumed her. His tongue slid rhythmically over the sensitive surfaces of her mouth, venturing deeper, filling her, blotting out thought. There was only feeling, searing sensation…and Nikolas, his mouth, his hands, his body.

And a desperate need. A terrible emptiness waiting to be filled. She wanted, with an urgency unlike anything she'd ever known before. And yet asking for what she wanted… needed…seemed beyond her. She seemed capable only of tiny breathless whimpers.

Then…even that was stilled. Her breath stopped as his fingers found her swollen petals at last, and with incredible gentleness slipped between them…then inside her. Just a little, at first…then deeper…filling the emptiness…filling her with a fierce dark heat that drove the breath from her body in a shuddering gasp. She tore her mouth from his as her spine convulsed and her body arched back, and she uttered his name in a shaip, piercing cry.

Instantly, his arm came across her back, strong as steel, protective as a bird's wing, shielding her, supporting her. His hand came to cradle the back of her head, bringing her face into the comforting hollow of his neck and shoulder, and he held her there, held her in warmth and safety while his fingers moved rhythmically inside her and the throbbing pressure built to its inevitable breaking point.

"Nik-" Her voice was silvery with panic, her breath like a knife in her throat.

Instantly, his whispered words were there, cooling the damp hair above her ear. "Too much, sweetheart? Shall I stop?"

"No! But I can't…I-" …can't say I love you! "I need you to…hold me. Please…"

"I am, my love. This is me, holding you. I've got you…it's okay…it's okay…"

And for that moment, as she finally let go of reason and tumbled headlong into the vortex, she let herself believe it could be…

I've got you… But Nikolas wondered for a time, as he felt the strongest, most capable woman he'd ever known tremble like a frightened fawn in his arms, just who was holding whom. The cataclysms he felt rippling like small earthquakes through her body were only echoes of the shock waves tearing through his soul.

I love you. Rhia de Hayes. The thought came, not with fireworks now. but as a steady drumbeat deep in his heart, a pulse that would be a part of his life force from this day forward for as long as he lived.

While he was holding her, tightly…tenderly…and her hot and swollen flesh still throbbed in his hand, darkness came at last and settled over them both like a chilling mist. He felt Rhia shiver as the passion-heat subsided, but when he shifted her slightly and gently withdrew his hand from her body, she gave a tiny cry of protest and shuddered convulsively, as if trying to burrow closer to his warmth.

He knew how she felt. He hated to let go of her, as well, even though he knew that, in order to find relief from the growing discomfort in his nether regions, he was going to have somehow to find a way to extricate himself from his clothes.

"Forgive me, my love," he whispered to the sweet-scented dampness of her hair. "Poor planning on my part. I know, but… in my defense. I simply couldn 't wait another minute to have you… We need to find a better place for this. Warmer…at least."