Jonathon watched with grim amusement as Louisa marched down the hall towards the library, her shoulder blades twitching in mock indignation. She expected seduction. Good. She needed the anticipation. But it would be she who seduced him, and not here but at Chesterholm. Miss Elliot had neatly solved his problem. Louisa would be going to Chesterholm. It would give him the perfect opportunity.

      In the intervening years, Louisa’s beauty had grown and matured rather than diminished. Her clothes and hair might not be precisely up to the minute, but there was a certain sensuousness about the way she moved and the way the light lit the red fire in her hair. His body stirred with anticipation.

      He could remember what she’d looked like—her glorious titian hair spread across his pillow and body, long white limbs and rosy mouth whispering how their love was eternal, how he was the only man for her. Right before she’d disappeared. Now she was back and her beauty, instead of fading, had deepened and ripened.

      On how many other men had she practised her schemes? How many other men had run their fingers through her hair, enjoying its silky smoothness as it covered their bodies like a protective cloak? Had she kissed the baronet? Furniss?

      A surge of jealous anger went through him. He refused to think about any other man touching her. The current of desire ran between them, unabated after all these years. Jonathon clenched his fist around the head of his silver-topped cane and regained control of his body. The important thing was ensuring Louisa did precisely what he wanted her to, rather than thinking about his rivals.

      She walked quickly to the library and with practised movements began to pull out the various drawers where the cameos were stored, talking very quickly and loudly about the merits and where the collection was from.

      Jonathon wondered how many times she had played this little game, keeping the door open just wide enough so as not to excite the servants’ curiosity. Once he had thought innocence and purity had shone from her face. An uneasy thought whispered in the back of his mind that she had been pure until he had introduced her to the arts of love and subterfuge. He silenced the thought. He had to get her out of her environment and into his. They would start playing by his rules. Now.

      Jonathon closed the door with a decisive click, half-expecting an immediate protest at the impropriety. Louisa stopped for a moment and their gazes held. Her lips parted as if she was about to protest, but then she gave a slight shrug and concentrated on straightening the cameos.

      ‘You will want to see the best. It took me a moment to find them and here they are.’

      She pushed a drawer forwards. The deft movement emphasised the length of her fingers, slender and tapering but with a certain resilient strength.

      He had always admired her hands and how they moved. When he was recovering from the accident, he had lain awake, imagining what it would be like to have his brow stroked. He could remember her innocent hesitant touch becoming more assured as she had gained in confidence until she’d touched his body with the skill of a courtesan, playing it like a musician plays a fine instrument. But it had been that underlying innocence that had heated his blood to fever pitch.

      He wrenched his thoughts away from the past.

      Her lips curved up into a secret smile, challenging him to make his move. ‘This is the cream of the collection. Miss Mattie used to show all her visitors these cameos. The fact that others coveted them only increased their value.’

      ‘Where is Eros? Psyche is alone in each of these cameos.’

      ‘You know the myth!’ Her eyes widened in astonishment.

      ‘Going to Eton did give me a classical education, Louisa. The myth serves as the basis for Beauty and the Beast and several other fairy tales.’ Jonathon leant forwards and dared her to say the truth.

      ‘Eros abandoned Psyche. He flew away and left her to her fate. Miss Mattie and I prefer the ones with Psyche alone and surviving. They are more honest.’

      The words cut through him, but he pushed the thought away. He had not abandoned her. He drew a steadying breath and kept his gaze on her. Louisa had obviously forgotten the entirety of the story. Eros had won in the end. He had made Psyche into a goddess.

      ‘Or could it be that Miss Mattie was shocked?’ He allowed his eyes to dance. ‘Some in my late uncle’s collection are very risqué. Eros and Psyche intertwined. Hardly the subject for an unmarried spinster.’

      ‘This one might be to your taste.’ Her eyes flashed fire. ‘You do, I believe, have a healthy appreciation of the female form.’

      ‘On occasion.’

      He held out his hand. She dropped the cameo into his palm, being careful not to touch him. Psyche about to enter the underworld stared up at him, her figure much as he remembered Louisa’s.

      ‘What else does the collection offer? Which ones are your favourites? Do you have a healthy appreciation of the masculine form?’

      Louisa’s tongue flicked out and moistened her lips. Her hands pressed harder against the table and her pupils flared slightly. Her breath emerged as a hiss before she seemed to regain control and reached for the drawer again. ‘That is a personal question. Are we now moving to the personal, Lord Chesterholm?’

      ‘Everything between us is personal, Louisa. But I can answer the question. You once watched me bathe.’

      ‘You have no interest in the cameos.’ She gripped the drawer so tightly that her knuckles shone white. ‘Why lie? Why not tell the truth? You intend to seduce me, but you will fail, sir.’

      Her tongue flicked over her lips and he knew she remembered. It was enough for now. Soon, they would repeat the performance. Slowly. With candlelight flickering, red rose petals shimmering on the water and the soap sliding over her naked back as she sighed. Jonathon forced his mind from the image.