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.But Jeannette was uninitiated in the ways of love.And he had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.She needed a nobleman and a wedding.“Show me what it is like to make love with you,” she said.“Let me feel you inside me before it is too late, and I am doomed to never know.”The enticement echoed in Treynor’s ears, challenging everything he believed himself to be.“Perhaps another day,” he managed, but it felt like he might burst if he didn’t take her.“When you know your own mind.”“But I do,” she protested.“This is exactly what I wanted the first night I met you.”He grimaced at the thought of how that night had gone and tried to move back.He wanted to slow the rapid pounding of his heart, but the temptation of her body shackled him to the bed.“I did not mean to hurt you that night,” she whispered.“Then you know very little about the anatomy of a man.”“Show me.” She touched his hardness through the fabric of his uniform, and he gasped at the sensation.“I don’t think you want to do that.” He meant to move her hand away but ended up covering it with his own.“I may not be able to stop myself.”“Do not worry, I will stop you.”There wasn’t a shred of commitment in her words, but they were enough to make Treynor teeter on the edge of indecision.The feeling of her naked breasts against his chest would be worth the cost of drawing closer to the flame—worth almost any cost.He pulled her against him, marveling at the pleasure of such a simple thing.Jeannette seemed to like the contact as much as he did.She gave him a sultry smile, wound her arms around his neck, and turned her face up to receive his kiss.Treynor took his time with her lips, then gently explored her small, straight teeth and velvety tongue.She responded tentatively at first, until she grew confident in what she was doing.Then her lovemaking took on a wild abandon that stole his breath.When he felt her quiver against him, his hands moved to finish with their clothing.But this last barrier was all that stopped him from possessing her completely.Were he to remove it, he knew he’d be powerless against the animal inside him.“Damn it!” he groaned.“What?” She gazed up at him as if thoroughly confused as to why he might be unhappy.Staring at Jeannette’s wide eyes and her lips, swollen from his kisses, Treynor knew he couldn’t win.His conscience wouldn’t allow him to proceed; his need wouldn’t allow him to stop.Finally, he extricated himself from her arms and stepped away.She blinked at him in surprise.“Where are you going?”“Anywhere but here.”“You’re not leaving.”“Yes.” He quickly buttoned his jacket.“But I must be the stupidest bastard in the world.”The war between his mind and his body was making him angrier by the minute.Why did his damned conscience have to intervene at a moment like this? At the very peak of sexual desire? How long had it been since he’d wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Jeannette?Never came the answer.And that terrified him.God, he prayed, not her.Anyone but her.Silently, he railed at himself and cursed Jeannette, too.But, considering the situation, only one thing could set his world right again—besides another fifteen minutes with the count’s daughter.He needed a good brawl.Fortunately, he knew several members of the crew who’d be happy to oblige.*Helen crumpled the letter in one hand and tossed it into the wastepaper basket below the mahogany secretary where she sat in her study.She’d spent all evening composing the lines that had covered the perfumed sheet.Yet there seemed to be no good way to express what she had wanted, for many years now, to tell her son.She stared out the second-story window near her desk at the moonlit, snow-covered box hedges and Greek statues in the gardens below and thought back to their last interview at the cottage near Liskeard.Treynor had been livid with rage.She’d made him that way.But she’d only been striking out at herself.By behaving as he expected her to—by being what he thought she was—she ensured his continued rejection and no longer needed to fear it.Dipping her quill into the inkwell, she pulled her gaze away from the glistening snow and shadowy, leafless trees to start again.She’d never spoken of Treynor’s true father.His name wasn’t recorded in any journal or previous letters—none that she hadn’t destroyed.Even her husband, the marquess, did not know the truth.She’d had a short affair with their stable master, but that had come at least a month after the pregnancy, as a purposeful cover
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