Earl Robert led the way to a thick oak-planked door set into the stonework of one of the four circular towers. Rush torches slung into iron brackets on either side of the doorway illuminated the entrance before they were plunged into darkness on the stairs. Fortunately a rope had been fixed onto the outside curve of the tower and Emmeline reached for it thankfully, using it as a support and a guide. She concentrated hard on maintaining her footing on the damp steps, the weakness of her right leg making her climb difficult. Above her, the heavy footfall of Earl Robert marked his direction, but of Lord Talvas behind her…no sound. She knew he was angry with her, but why? All she wanted was this chance to travel to England to visit her sister and make some money at the same time. How did it possibly affect him?

      She gasped reflexively as her toe scraped the edge of the next step, grinding pain arching through her ankle as she grappled to regain her tremulous balance. Do not fall! Do not fall! To show weakness before these men would be the ultimate humiliation—she did not want their help, and she certainly did not want their pity.

      ‘Steady, mam’selle. The treads are uneven here.’ Talvas’s firm hand cupped her elbow as she righted herself, intensely aware of his large body on the step beneath her, warming her back, encircling her jittered senses with its immovable presence. Emmeline bit her lip. How easy it would be to fall back into his strength, to ask for help, to be cocooned in the muscled ropes of his arms. But she wouldn’t do it. She would never give in; her inner strength was enough to let her do this on her own. Her time with Giffard had made certain of that.

      ‘Don’t trouble yourself on my account, my lord,’ she whispered down to him. ‘Besides, I have the distinct impression that you would prefer me to fall in a heap at the bottom of the steps.’

      ‘Don’t tempt me, mam’selle.’ She jumped as his low voice curled into her ear, and shook her elbow to release his grip, resenting his controlling touch on her. The vehemence of her movement made him chuckle, and she turned to face him, lips set in an angry line.

      ‘Why do you resent it so much?’ she flashed at him. ‘’Tis but a simple business transaction that is no concern of yours!’

      ‘You may come to rue your outspokenness, mam’selle.’

      ‘You’re just trying to scare me. Why are you here anyway? I thought your plan was to travel on to Boulogne.’

      He grinned. ‘So anxious to be rid of me, mam’selle? I thought you enjoyed my company. Nay, Guillame and I do not choose to ride at night.’

      ‘Then on the morrow we will go our separate ways?’ Her voice held an edge of relief. She had realised with shock that the difference in step heights meant her eyes were on a level with his mouth. The wide, generous lines of his mouth.

      ‘We shall see, mam’selle. We shall see.’

      Her head swam as she felt herself drawn to the tangy smell of him, the glitter of his eyes, the lean, sardonic angles of his face. His hands settled on her neat waist, thumbs roaming outwards to encompass the delicacy of her ribcage. Strings of heat pirouetted from the light pressure of his fingers, streaking across her body into a web of desire. Words of protest formed in her mind, only to burst like bubbles in the growing, churning turmoil that was her chest; her body melted. The rapid pulse of her own breathing echoed in her head as his face leaned into hers…

      ‘Make haste, my lord Talvas!’ The Earl’s voice rapped down the spiral steps, sloshing over her like cold water. ‘Now is not the time for idle chit-chat!’

      ‘Nor anything else, my lord!’ Only the thin tremor in Emmeline’s whispered tone belied her befuddled state. Incensed at her own stupidity, she pushed furiously at his hands to find they had already dropped away, leaving her sides cold.

      ‘My intention was only to steady you, mam’selle.’ The guttural rasp of his voice startled her by its terseness. She flounced around and began to climb the stair once more. In the clammy half light, Talvas watched her move away, his eye travelling over the alluring lines of her petite figure, the seductive sway of her skirts. As she had faced him on the stair, the sheer beauty of her delicate features had caught him unawares, carried him back to a time before responsibility, a time before his ill-fated betrothal. For one beautiful moment, she had made him forget who he was. The luminous energy in her face, the feistiness of her nature: all attracted him with a force he was unprepared for, a powerful enchantment that for the sake of his sanity, he had to resist. And resist her he would.