The next two mornings went well…too well. Though Lucas would never wish ill will on his fellow man, he needed something more severe than a sick boy with a fever to shake Edwina loose.

Where was a good amputation when you needed one?

He knew his thoughts were unfair. Edwina, if born a man, would make a fine surgeon, perhaps one of the best. She absorbed information quickly and asked all the appropriate questions. She challenged Lucas to explain every step in detail, and taking his earlier advice, questioned his actions when they did not align with what she read in the texts. This led to a long discussion regarding blood-letting, a common practice amongst physicians to treat all sorts of ailments, and one which Lucas detested, as he stated to Edwina that blood-letting only weakened the patient to the point of no return. The discussion ended when Lucas said, “The practice killed more patients than it ever saved.”

And just this morning when young Jamie Croft was dry heaving into her skirts, Edwina did not recoil in disgust, but gently patted the boy on the head and reassured him that all would be well. They dosed the feverish boy with several cups of willow bark tea and cooled his skin with wet towels until his fever began to abate.

“A morning well done,” Edwina said, her face bright with satisfaction, as she stepped out into the weak sunlight. Jamie Croft slept soundly inside with his tearful mother watching over him. Mrs. Croft lost a daughter to a fever only three months before and thanked Lucas and Edwina profusely when Jamie blinked his eyes open after hours of tossing and turning and called out weakly for his mother.

Lucas grunted.

“What has you in a temper? Your patients are thriving.” A sly smile crossed her face. “Or, shall I say, our patients?”

Lucas found that Edwina was right, they had become friends of sorts. Not necessarily friends that kissed, as Lucas reined in every impulse to do just that.

But there was an ease in each other’s presence that Lucas found gratifying, almost reassuring. He could speak to her about his work and she found his words fascinating, and, in turn, he found everything about Edwina to be fascinating. No more than the courage, tenacity, and intelligence she’d shown with each passing day.

Before these past few days, Lucas had only spent mere, though explosive, moments in Edwina’s company. Now, he found himself with her for several hours every morning and the experience was disconcerting. He was drawn to her, his eyes finding her the moment he stepped into any room and his hands reaching out to her for no other reason other than to touch her.

And, it must stop.

It was nearly eleven, the time that Edwina set to meet with her carriage to take her back to Mayfair and back home to Bridgerton House. Without speaking, they both began making their way to the coffeehouse where her carriage would meet her.

"How is your courtship with Miss Ursula?" Edwina asked, falling into step with Lucas's long strides. From the first morning, Edwina wore the Bridgerton maid uniform and a white mobcap that hid her dark hair whenever she accompanied him on his rounds. A dark tendril escaped the cap, falling loose against her cheek. She blew at it with puckered lips every time it fell near her eyes. The action was driving Lucas mad. He reached out, surprising her, and tucked the errant lock back under to cap lest he was compelled to something else with her lips entirely.

While Lucas spent every morning with Edwina as they made their rounds through the slums of Whitechapel, Spitalfields, and Covent Garden, he spent every afternoon ferrying Miss Ursula, and oftentimes her brother, Mr. Silva, to various ton activities. Rides through Hyde Park, trips to the Royal Art Museum, and one evening dancing under the lanterns at Vauxhall Gardens.

"Surprisingly well," Lucas replied. It was no less than the truth. He was surprised to find Miss Ursula pleasant company. She seemed to take a genuine interest in Lucas's work as a surgeon. Though, he could never imagine the young lady accompanying him on his rounds as Edwina did. Miss Ursula's interest resided only on the surface. He could not say with confidence how she would fare caring for a sick child like Jamie Croft. But, it did not matter. Lucas would never ask his wife to participate in his work.

Edwina's eyes lit with interest as she cupped her hand to her ear and cocked her head. "Are those wedding bells I hear?"

Lucas suppressed a smile. "Perhaps, it is your own wedding bells. Lumley nearly declared himself the other day." This was the first time Lucas brought up the intimate scene he interrupted in the family parlor of Bridgerton House. The one where Lumley found himself on one knee before Edwina and Lucas found himself nearly jumping out of his skin with jealousy.

"We are not here to discuss my marriage prospects."

"Are you going to accept him?"

Edwina shrugged. "Yes, I believe I will. He loves me."

Lucas noticed that Edwina did not say that she loved Lumley. He rejoiced silently at her unspoken admission.

"And, what of Miss Ursula?" she asked.

"You are very eager to see me wed."

"Why not? Our agreement was that I find you a wife before the end of the Season. Thus far, I've held up my share of the bargain. You only need to propose and Miss Ursula will be yours. You are an earl. You are not looking for love. She is sensible enough to understand that, though I am sure affection will grow between you two in time."

"How can you be so certain?" Lucas asked. He was not an affectionate man and no one has ever claimed him as such so to hear the possibility from Edwina's lips was surprising.

"You have oceans of love within you, Lucas. I've seen it in how you care for your patients. When you let the walls around your heart fall, Miss Ursula will be lucky to have your love and devotion." Edwina's voice trembled on her last words.

Lucas looked down and was surprised to see Edwina blink back tears. "Any woman would consider herself fortunate," she said, finishing her thought.

Edwina hastened her steps to her carriage and did not wait for Lucas to hand her up into her seat. He held the door open for a moment longer, watching as Edwina diligently avoided looking at him, her face tight with emotion.

"Edwina–"

"I will see tomorrow morning," she said, cutting him off. Lucas nodded, closed the door, and watched the carriage drive off.

Did he dare hope that Edwina possessed feelings for him? And, if she did, what could he do about it?

Nothing, he thought, his chest filling with sorrow and resentment of what could never be. Absolutely nothing.

***

" Didi , how did you know you were in love with Anthony?"

Kate put down the bolt of dark green muslin. It was midmorning and Edwina and Kate decided to visit Madame Delacroix's so that Edwina could squeeze in a final fitting of her costume before the Hastings masquerade ball the next night. Madame Delacroix gently pulled the tunic over Edwina’s head and disappeared into the backroom to make a few final adjustments. "Is this about Lord Lumley?" she paused. "Or, Lord Greymoor?"

“Lord Greymoor is not courting me. We’re simply friends.” Edwina said it more to herself than to Kate. She needed to remind herself that it was all a ploy, that Lucas only needed her to find him a wife, and he was only fulfilling his end of the bargain by teaching her medicine. There was nothing more between them, yet, her heart ached whenever she thought of him, and she hurt whenever they spoke of a future apart with him married to Miss Ursula or another lady and her to Lord Lumley.

Edwina was taken by surprise by the strength of her emotions when parting with Lucas earlier in the day. She knew with conviction that Lucas would marry, and at the progress he was making, to Miss Ursula Silva. She'd already heard the rumors spreading about the ton on the possible match and helped flame them herself whenever the opportunity presented itself.

So, why, why did she struggle to keep from sinking into despair when Lucas stated that his courtship with Miss Ursula was going well. Why did she nearly embarrass herself by collapsing into a weepy mess in front of him?

And, worse of all, why did she want to beg Lucas to choose her instead?

Her, not Ursula.

Why did it matter to her at all?

Edwina feared that she was quickly crossing the line between friendship and something more. And, the something more, terrified her.

Please, don't let this be love.

“Friends? How do you come to be friends with the Earl of Greymoor?”

“Men and women can be friends. Look at Colin and Penelope Featherington.”

Kate gave her an exasperating look. “Colin and Penelope have known one another for years, and up until last year, Penelope was a bosom friend of Eloise and a regular guest at Bridgerton House. You’ve only known Lord Greymoor since Lady Danbury’s ball.”

Edwina remained silent.

Kate’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing!”

Kate's face softened. "Tell me whenever you are ready. I will not pry. But, to answer your question..." Kate's face took on a wistful expression, before she said, "It was probably during our first argument outside Lady Danbury's conservatory ball. There was a spark in his eyes, a passion, and I knew that the attraction I felt for him was perilous, that it could easily turn into love in time. I was blind to it at the time, of course, but I believe that I knew deep inside myself that Anthony was a dangerous man only in that I could find myself easily in love with him."

"Which proved to be true," Edwina said.

"I simply could not stop thinking about him after that encounter." Kate laughed, before continuing, "Anthony literally plagued my mind. Every thought was about him, about how to keep him away from you. I didn't realize it then, but I believe that subconsciously I was already in love with him and could not bear the idea of him being married to anyone, especially my own sister. But, I held my tongue for all the reasons that I thought were right at the time, but were wrong for all of us in the end."

"No," Edwina said. "Not in the end. You have Anthony now, and he has you."

"But, you have no one," Kate replied.

Edwina shrugged, hoping to appear as if it did not matter. "I believe now that I would be happier being with no one than being with Anthony." She grinned. "It would be like marrying a brother."

"Or, a male version of me," Kate said, blanching.

Edwina laughed. "Your words, not mine."

"Are you truly happy, bon ?" Kate said, approaching her and taking Edwina's hands into her own. "Lord Lumley loves you, I believe. But, do you love him?"

"I do not know," Edwina said. "I do not think of him like you think of Anthony. He does not plague my mind."

Kate frowned. "And, how about Lord Greymoor?"

Edwina fell silent. She feared that if she was not in love with Lucas, she was nearly there.

And, she would never again love a man who did not love her return.

***

Lucas waited until Miss Ursula settled in her seat before he took the seat immediately to her left. Mr. Wesley Silva, her brother, took one of the empty seats behind them.

When Lucas stopped by the Silva household earlier he had no intention of inviting Miss Ursula for a night at the theater. But the conversation during that half hour meandered through his lecture at the College, to her love of dancing (he properly asked for her first waltz at the Hastings ball), to Mr. Silva’s fondness of the theater. He had inquired quite pointedly if Lucas maintained a box there, so much so that it would have been impolitic to not invite the siblings out to the next show.

The Orpheum Theater located on Drury Lane was popular amongst the younger set of the ton for its outrageous performances and scandalously clad actresses. Despite the risque costume designs and outlandish acting style, the theater was making a concerted effort to be taken seriously alongside its peers. This Season marked the addition of Estelle De Leon, a young ingenue turned breakout prima donna. Her rise to fame centered around her brilliant rendition of Lady Macbeth and the allure of Miss De Leon’s renowned beauty and the power she wielded in taking lovers on a whim. She was no man’s mistress, as, mysteriously, she appeared to possess a fortune of her own. As rumor had it, her liaisons were of her own choosing, and thus far in the Season, she was painfully selective. Young bucks clamored at her dressing door after each show eager for her to bestow her favor on one of them.

Lucas was informed of all this while at Mondrich’s earlier in the evening. The gentlemen at the table elbowed one another, placing bets in Mondrich’s books as to who would finally slay Miss De Leon, take her to bed, and keep her there. Lucas was disgusted by the topic and quickly excused himself. Miss De Leon was of no concern to him, but he wished her better than the slavering imbeciles that seemed to make up a large portion of the gentlemen of the ton .

“Do you find the view tolerable?”

The theater was beautifully designed, the wood carvings indicating different scenarios of dreams and nightmares. Idyllic, pastoral scenes of naked nymphs frolicking with fantastical beasts were etched in one wall only to be juxtaposed by demons cavorting with their prey on the other. Thick, crimson drapes lined each private box and gold leaf decorated the walls, creating a sumptuous aura of extravagance.

The private boxes on the upper level were reserved for the peerage. Lucas was unsurprised to discover that the earls of Greymoor maintained a box. To possess a box at the theater was another indicator of wealth and power.

Below them, the floor crowded with the untitled members of the ton . The floor was so dense with the press of attendees that they were forced to stand shoulder to shoulder. Gentlemen clad in dark evening wear circled within the tight space with the brightly colored ladies draped on their arms. The cacophony of chatter and laughter echoed up into the box creating a din that Lucas found irritating. He did not begrudge the ton seeking their evening entertainment, but he did begrudge the fact that he was forced to take part in it.

“Oh, it is absolutely splendid!” Miss Ursula leaned over the balcony. Lucas saw several heads crane awkwardly to stare into his box. He was still an oddity–a newly minted earl. And, an oddity that was currying favor with the most desirable debutante of the Season.

“And, Mr. Silva? Your seat is to your comfort?”

“You possess a brilliant view. It is perfectly situated over the center of the stage. The acoustics will make it easier to hear the actors over the chattering of the crowd. It is a pity that Estelle De Leon won’t be treading the boards tonight. I’ve heard nothing but praise for her performance of Lady Macbeth.”

Miss Ursula sent her brother a quelling look.

Mr. Silva cleared his throat and winked at his sister. “I’ve always wondered what the stage would look like from this perspective.”

An odd observation, Lucas thought. Lucas was about to ask the young man what he meant when Miss Ursula, who was peering through her opera glasses, exhaled a squeak of excitement.

“Look there is Miss Sharma! And Lord Lumley!” Miss Ursula waved across the theater.

Both men turned. A few boxes down from his, Lucas’s eyes were drawn to Edwina, who was dressed in a bright yellow ball gown similar to the one she wore the night of the assembly. Similar, but different. The color was more yellow than golden, like a daffodil. Even Lucas learned in his brief foray into the ton that it was faux pas to wear the same ball gown twice in a Season. The wealthiest only wore a ball gown once in its lifetime.

Edwina waved back and even from the distance he could see the clear amusement on her face when her eyes landed on him. A silent message passed between them. Edwina was determined to see Lucas wed to Miss Ursula and was pleased to see them together. Lucas frowned in consternation.

“Is everything all right?” Miss Ursula asked. Lucas was about to reassure her that everything was fine when he realized the question was directed at her brother.

Mr. Silva and Lord Lumley were glaring at one another across the distance of the theater. Lucas felt the annoyance radiating off of the younger man's body.

“Quite fine, sister.” Mr. Silva dragged his attention away from Lumley and back to the stage, his mouth tight with agitation. He nodded at the stage. “The show is about to begin.”

The theater darkened as ushers moved up and down the theater dousing out the candles. Despite the darkness, Lucas could make out Edwina’s form in her yellow ball gown. His body tightened as she leaned over the balcony, the pillows of her breast pushed up against the bodice of her gown. Edwina was well endowed and whether or not she was coquettish enough to play up her assets to capture Lumley’s attention, he knew not. Only that Lucas was enraptured and felt the possessive drive to blind every man present.

His thoughts turned to the night in Edwina’s room, how his own hands cupped each of her breasts, his fingers brushed against her nipples until they peaked into hard points under his ministrations, and–

Lucas shifted uncomfortably, drawing Miss Ursula’s attention. She leaned towards him, her lips to his ears. “I want to thank you, Lord Greymoor, for the invitation tonight."

"It is of no consequence."

Miss Ursula's green eyes glowed up at him and she moved slightly closer to him until their arms brushed. The young lady was bold and Lucas appreciated her clear intent. He was wooing her. She knew it, he knew it, even Mr. Silva knew it. There was no need for coyness.

Though the action was flirtatious, there was nothing but naïveté behind it. The girl was a decade younger than Lucas, an innocent, and the thought of taking her to bed recoiled him.

She was no more than a child.

Edwina, on the other hand, was only two years older than Miss Ursula. But, in the past few days in her company, Lucas saw the woman that she was. Edwina was bold and caring, courageous and stubborn to a fault. And with time, she would mature like fine wine, growing more beautiful as her hair turned from black to gray and wrinkles lined her face.

And, damned if Lucas didn’t want to know that version of Edwina, to be there by her side as they grew old together.

A dangerous desire.

Despite his best efforts, Lucas's attention wavered from the stage throughout the first act. He watched Edwina surreptitiously as she pointedly ignored him and watched the play unfold on the stage. Every once and while, Lumley would lean in close to whisper in her ear and she would turn her face and smile at him or respond in kind. Lucas noticed that they sat hand in hand, their fingers interlaced in the shadows.

Lumley leaned in close once again, but instead of a whisper, he pressed a kiss against Edwina's nape. He caught her by surprise and even in the darkness, Lucas saw her flush. Lumley was whispering again and Edwina bowed her head before looking up and catching Lucas's eye.

Lucas's jaw tightened as he forced his gaze away from her. His head ached and the box suddenly felt too small to breathe.

The curtain dropped on the stage and candles were being lit. The rustling of gowns and the guffaws of men filled the air as people went to seek out refreshments and company. A night at the theater was rarely about the play, as Edwina had told him before, but like a promenade, an opportunity to mingle, to be seen.

"Intermission. Prepare to be inundated, love," Mr. Silva said to his sister, with the aggrieved sigh of the much put upon older brother. "The fawning swains will be at your feet in mere moments."

Lucas stood, reaching down to help Miss Ursula to her feet. He knew his role. As Miss Ursula's primary suitor, he was meant to stand guard over his prize, like a dog with a bone. He was supposed to sniff and snarl at the young pups who dared approach what he has claimed as his own. But, as Lord Fife entered the Lucas's box with a glass of lemonade proffered to Miss Ursula, and several more gentlemen sidled into the small space behind him, Lucas felt the overwhelming urge to escape.

"If you will excuse me," he said as he bowed over Miss Ursula's hand, the surprise plain on her face. The siblings exchanged a startled glance. He left the box, pushing past the crowd of men both younger and older than him, and hurried in search of refuge.

They could take his damned box for all he cared. They could take Miss Ursula too. All he needed was air.

Lucas walked straight to a balcony that he noticed earlier and pushed open the doors. The cool night air hit his senses and the relief was immediate. He felt his headache begin to fade.

"Lucas?" a voice called out from the doorway. Edwina stepped through, the light from within casting her features in shadow. "Are you well?"

Lucas ignored her question, turning his back to her as he braced himself against the balustrade. "You should not be out here."

"No one knows I am out here with you. Your reputation is safe with me." Edwina smiled teasingly as she came to stand next to him, their arms barely touching. "Now, do not ignore my question. I saw you rush out here. Is there something amiss?"

God, yes, he thought. Miss Ursula is not you. He should be the one sitting beside Edwina, the one holding her hand, causing her to blush with whispered promises of ravenous pleasures, kissing her, touching her.

Him, not Lumley.

"No," he lied. And he would lie again and again before he admitted to Edwina how he truly felt. This possessiveness was driving him mad. He did not know what to make of it. Edwina was not his and never would be. Why could he not let her go?

All he wanted to do was gather her into his arms and kiss and touch her until he heard her call out his name over and over again. All he wanted to do was to spend the rest of his days pleasuring her, being with her, lov–

"You are agitated. I understand that Miss Ursula is popular, she has many suitors, but I've seen how she looks at you. She favors you above them all. Your courtship needn't be long. Wait a week and propose. I am certain she will accept your suit. With a special license, you can be married before the end of the Season. If you wish to call for banns, it'll only be a few more weeks of waiting. You will get what you want."

"And you will as well," Lucas snapped.

Edwina sat back with alarm at his tone. "Yes...we will get what we both agreed upon."

"What if it is no longer what I want?" Lucas asked, turning his body to face Edwina. His hand reached out to cup Edwina's face as if on its own accord. He watched as she swallowed, her eyes wide in the darkness.

"What do you–"

"Edwina?"

Lucas promptly dropped his hand and stepped away from Edwina as Lumley walked through the doorway. He eyed Lucas with a lack of concern that could only be found in a man confident in his lady's affections. "The show is ready to begin again. Are you ready to return?" He held out his hand.

Don't take it, Lucas thought desperately. Stay.

Edwina looked between both men, indecision writ on her face, before she began to reach out for Lumley's outstretched hand.

Several cries of alarm sounded out through the open door, breaking the silence that descended on the balcony. A rush of ladies and gentlemen filled the hallway.

Lucas followed Lumley and Edwina through the door. "What has happened?" he asked a passing dandy who was struggling to keep his escort from being crushed.

"One of the actresses, Lady Macbeth, has collapsed on stage. They claim that she is not breathing."

"My evening is ruined!" the lady in his arms complained. "You promised me a good time, Freddie, and now a girl is dead!"

Lucas forced his way through the crowd and ran down a flight of stairs to the orchestra level. People milled around him, some in a hurry to escape to their next diversion as it was clear the show would not go on, others lingering to catch the grim spectacle of the prone body on stage so that they may gossip about it for days to come. To think that Lady Macbeth died two acts before she was meant to–the nerve of the actress.

Lucas leapt onto the stage and was unsurprised that Edwina had followed him with Lumley close behind her.

"I'm a surgeon," Lucas announced, pushing people aside. He found Mr. Silva crouched over the young woman, hugging her limp body to his. He was clearly distraught.

"Mr. Silva, please release her," Lucas said gently. Mr. Silva looked up at him in surprise as if not realizing that he was before half the ton . "I am a surgeon," Lucas repeated, reminding the man of his profession. "Let me help."

Mr. Silva nodded, swallowing hard, and released the woman.

The actress was young, younger than Lucas had assumed under the layers of paint on her face. She was probably no older than Edwina, maybe no older than Miss Ursula.

"Will she be all right?" Miss Ursula asked. She stood over her brother's hunched shoulders.

Lucas pressed his fingers against the prone woman's throat and felt a faint heartbeat. Edwina knelt down next to him and took the actress's hand into her own, her fingers on the wrist.

"She is not dead," Edwina said. "Her heart is still beating, though it is weak."

Lucas nodded in agreement. "She fainted. Her corset is too tight."

Mr. Silva fumbled into his pocket and flipped open a pocket knife and passed it to Lucas. He sliced through the costume then hacked at the cords, cutting the woman free, and tearing the corset away. Lumley had the foresight to remove his coat and place it over the young woman's naked breasts.

"Does anyone have any smelling salts?" Edwina asked.

"Yes." Miss Ursula reached into her reticule and passed a bottle to her brother. Mr. Silva uncorked it and waved it under the actress's nose.

"Beatrice, damn you, wake up!" Mr. Silva tapped at her face lightly. "You are making a fool of yourself." Even though he was scolding her, his voice was shaky with fear.

"She will be fine in a moment. Clear the space." Before Edwina turned to usher the crowd away, Beatrice gasped out a shuddering breath.

"Oh, thank God," Mr. Silva said. "I am so sorry. I should not have left–"

"Estelle?" The woman blinked up in confusion. Mr. Silva shook his head sharply as if to silence her.

"What do you advise?" Lumley asked Lucas as both men stood.

"She will need her rest, but, in a few moments she will be fine. A fainting spell. I suggest that she is properly fitted next time for her costume. The corset is much too small for her frame." Based on Lucas's assessment, the corset was originally designed for a less endowed female. Beatrice, once released from her fabric prison, possessed curves that would have never fit into the costume without risking burst seams, or, as the case may be, fainting spells.

"I will take her back to the dressing room." Mr. Silva knelt down and hooked his arms under Beatrice. He struggled to lift her.

"Allow me," Lumley said, scooping up the girl with ease. Beatrice looked dazzled in Lumley's arms. Lumley hesitated for a moment before turning to Lucas. "If I may beg a favor, Lord Greymoor, can you escort Miss Sharma home?" He looked over at Mr. Silva, who tensed under Lumley's reproachful gaze. "I shall remain here until the young woman is fully recovered."

***

Edwina was not surprised that Lord Lumley decided to remain behind to care for the young actress. Lumley was a patron of the arts and a member of the board of several theaters and perhaps he was familiar with young Beatrice.

But, it seemed that it was due to Mr. Silva’s presence that Lumley remained behind. Earlier in the evening, Edwina felt Lumley stiffen when his eyes caught Mr. Silva’s across the theater. Lumley seemed to bristle with disapproval while Mr. Silva glared back with resentment.

"Certainly," Lucas said, turning to Edwina. He smiled down at her and Edwina felt her heart flutter wildly as she took his arm as they made their exit. The theater had emptied quickly and Lucas’s carriage pulled to the front of the theater without issue.

“I do hope the young woman will be well,” Edwina said as Lucas helped her into her seat before turning to speak with his coachman. He then took the seat opposite of hers. The carriage jostled into motion.

“She will be,” Lucas replied confidently, though he said nothing more. He watched her carefully in the darkness, one leg propped casually over the other, though there was a tenseness in the way he sat. As if he was willing himself not to close the small gap between them.

Edwina nodded. The air seemed to thicken. She could feel his gaze on her, causing her skin to prickle with heat and awareness. What did Lucas mean when he said that he no longer wished to marry Miss Ursula? Had he meant that he did not wish to marry at all?

Or, her heart tightened in her chest, did he wish to marry her?

Edwina peered out into the darkness, trying desperately to dislodge the sense of hope that filled her. Lucas has not declared his love much less mentioned an affection for her. Last Season, Anthony had done more to show his intentions than Lucas had, though Edwina did not know what to make of all their kisses. Or, that one night in her bedroom.

“Where are we going?” Edwina asked. She didn’t recognize the street.

“You wanted to see the College, did you not?”

Edwina stilled, anticipation welling inside her. “You said women were not allowed.” Though, Edwina was not going to argue further with Lucas. She did not know what possessed him to change his mind, to go against the dictates of the College, and she did not care. She longed for this moment, to be with Lucas in a space that he called his own.

“It is vacant at this hour. We will be alone.”

Edwina felt a thrill run up her spine at his words. Alone with Lucas. The last time they were alone together…Edwina felt her breath catch as the memory of his hands on her body assailed her. Of the pleasure he wrought with a few, masterful strokes.

“Alone, Edwina. With me. Is it what you want?” His dark eyes glinted from the shadows. They promised a night of wickedness.

“Yes,” she replied, breathless.