Page 70 of Sir Durham’s Disarming Asset

She took the stairs at a clip. Outside the door to his suite, she caught her breath and her reason. She turned the handle to the door. A little click and she shot inside.

She fell back against the door to close it. Fingering the key, she jiggled it and it came away into her hand.

Across the room in a large wing chair, he startled. But said not a word. He was limned in shadows. Save for the high fire in his grate and two candles near him, his stark features were revealed in arrogant grays so evocative of his character. Oh, but she saw him. All of him. She could find him anywhere, even in hell, where, amazingly enough, he had once found her.

“Zephora.” He would soon order her out in that gruff voice of his that she heard in her sleep and every waking hour.

“You cannot make me go.”

He scowled at that. “Did you—?”

“Come in the Ashleys’ small town coach? Yes.”

“So the servants there know—?”

“They do.” She took a step forward. “Now those here know, too.”

“Gus will panic.”

“I left a note.”

“This is not wise.”

In answer, with her hands behind her, she fingered the key, then dropped it in her cape pocket. “You left,” she accused him.

“There was nothing there to entertain me.”

“I was there.” She could feel the sad devastation in his gaze like a eulogy. She would not let him bury their happiness any longer. “I entertain you.”

He did not argue that. “I told you long ago that barging in on someone was not a way to endear you to them.”

She took one step forward.

He warned her off with a sidelong glance. “You went off with Islington.”

“He wished to talk, dear man.” She liked the fellow. He’d confided that he loved a lady who once, long ago, forsook him. He knew not why, but he still believed love the best basis for marriage. “Charles told me he was not going to propose to me.”

That made Rafe blink. “He needs a fortune.”

“He does not want mine.”

Rafe snorted. “Others will come.”

“Pity the fools.”

She still expected him to order her away. When he did not, she measured in heartbeats how long she might have to convince him how he needed her.

Slowly she strolled toward him, dropping her cape to the carpet with a shrug, allowing the blue silk robe to part and sway as she strode toward him. Then she lost it, too, to the floor.

He sucked in air as his gaze held to her attire. Could he see through the translucent white muslin night rail? A better plan of seduction she could not have devised.

She continued her march toward him.

“This is a bad idea, Zeph.”

She lifted a shoulder in response.

He took up the glass he held in one hand and lifted it to his lips. He swallowed…and she could hear how difficult that was for him.