I stared at him.

And then I stared at him some more.

Finally, Mr Ambrose cocked his head. 'An answer, Miss Linton?'

'Now?' My voice was half-growl, half-whisper. 'You've had the whole evening to ask me to dance, and you choose to do it now?'

'Yes.'

'Yes? Yes? That's all you've got to say for yourself?'

'Yes.'

And before I could think of a comeback to that magnificent statement, he had captured my arm with his and was leading me off to the dancefloor.

'Hey!' I protested. 'I haven't said yes, yet!'

Mr Ambrose gave me a cold look that told me he read more into my words than just one dance. 'I know.'

Oh dear...

He was angry. The kind of arctic anger which only Mr Ambrose and a Canadian blizzard were capable of. And in his anger, he was only more beautiful.

'The last dance, My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen!' The liveried servant in front of the musicians clapped his hands and stepped into the shadows.

Mr Ambrose held out his hand to me. Before I could think about it, my fingers had already closed around his.

What is happening? He's been an arse to me! Why should I do this? Why should I...

The remainder of that question slipped out of my mind when I was whirled around with consummate skill, and dipped back. A strong arm came up behind me to catch me just before I fell. Breathing hard, I gazed up into the stunningly perfect face of Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

'Shall we?'

I felt as if I were dreaming. Only...was this a dream or a nightmare? Was he only doing this to humiliate me further? To get his revenge for my refusal?

But it wasn't revenge I saw burning in his eyes. It was the cold fire of desire.

'I feel that I am making an objectively true statement,' he whispered, 'when I say that you look beautiful.' His eyes slid up and down my form, caressing every curve, and I shivered under his scrutiny. 'Especially in that dress.'

Ah yes. The dress.

I felt heat burn in the tips of my ears. Suddenly, my choice of gown didn't seem like such a good idea anymore.

'Adaira picked it,' I hurriedly asserted. Well, it was mostly true.

'Indeed?' He leaned forward, his gaze becoming somehow even more intense. My knees felt as if they would buckle any second. 'And did she decide on that colour, too?'

'No,' I muttered, glancing down at the ball gown that was a fascinatingly deep, dark sea-coloured shade somewhere between blue, green and grey – the exact same colour as his eyes. 'That was my decision.'

'I see.' So quickly I had no time to protest, he pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it. When it was over, the only evidence it had ever happened was the burning brand on the back of my hand. Tingles travelled up my arm, and somehow, it felt as if I'd been permanently marked. 'It's...adequate.'

'Why, thank you so much for the compliment, Sir.'

'You're welcome, Miss Linton.'

The musicians struck the first notes of the dance. Breathless, I felt Mr Ambrose's arms tighten around me. He was really going to do it. He was going to dance with me.

'Why?' I demanded in a whisper.

Why did you do this? Why the last dance, not the first? Is that all I am to you? An afterthought?

He seemed to read all those silent questions in my eyes. Twirling me into the first move of the dance, his cold gaze speared me with the force of a crashing glacier.

'The first dance for the first woman I knew, the last one for the last. You may not have been the first woman in my life, Miss Linton – but I promise you, you will be the last. There won't be anyone else as long as I live.'

For a moment, I forgot to breathe. Good God that was...

That was so Mr Ambrose. Ignoring me the whole evening, and then trying to pass it off as romantic.

And do you know what the worst thing was?

It worked. It bloody worked, curse him! And oh, how very well! All I wanted to do right then and there was to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him until I passed out. And he knew it, too, dammit! There was victory in his eyes, victory and power.

Instantly, I felt the fire of rebellion rise in my belly. 'The last woman in your life, eh? So does that mean you intend to remain celibate for the rest of your life, Sir?'

He met my eyes head-on, not a hint of shame on his granite face as he said, 'Not at all, Miss Linton. Quite the opposite, in fact.'

I felt heat rise to my face. Blast! That had backfired! Quickly, I glanced around.

'Mr Ambrose! Remember where you are!'

'I know exactly where I am. I'm in a ballroom at Battlewood Hall dancing the waltz, and you are in my arms.'

Before I could reply, he whirled me around to a trill in the music, and suddenly, I was bent backward again, and he was leaning over me, his hot breath caressing my skin.

Breathe, Lilly! Breathe!

'Well, you may feel like I'm the one,' I whispered. 'But what if I don't? I could decide to take another lover any time. Ten, in fact. Ten dozen, if I wanted.'

If I ever stopped loving you.

In a flash, he pulled me up again and whirled me the other way, his hands pulling me along like magic.

'Over my dead body, Miss Linton!'

'That could be arranged!'

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. 'Interpreting emotions is not my forte, Miss Linton–'

'You don't say.'

'–but can it be that for some reason you feel aggravated?'

At first I wanted to snap back at him, to thump his thick head against a wall, anything – but then I took a deep breath and did something a thousand times harder: I told him the truth.

'Yes. There is a reason.' I lowered my head, so he wouldn't see my face. 'You didn't ask me for the first dance!'

There was a moment of silence. Then...

'You didn't give me any reason to believe I would get it if I asked.'

'What?'

Incredulous, I stared up into his dark, ice-cold eyes, and for a moment saw something there I had never seen before. Was it...could it be hurt?

No! No, that couldn't be! For it to be hurt, Mr Ambrose would have to be able to have real feelings!

Feelings like love, you mean?

Good point.

I wet my lips, trying to find the right words. 'Just because...just because I said no to marriage doesn't mean I said no to everything. I want you. I need you. You make me crazy, and sometimes I want to kill you – but I couldn't imagine my life without you.' One corner of my mouth quirked up. 'Especially without that monthly pay cheque of yours.'

It was a joke, meant to lighten the mood. So his next words hit me like the blade of a dagger, sharp, hard and cold.

'That's all you want me for? My money?'

The cold demand shoved past all my defences straight into my chest. I was about to retaliate with a barrage of insults of my own, when I saw that uncertain shimmer in his eyes again, and suddenly the truth began to dawn on me.

'That's what all this is about?' My voice was no more than a whisper. 'You think I don't love you?'

Whirling me around, he pulled me close until our faces were only inches apart. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

'It's a reasonable conclusion to come to, don't you think? I asked you to marry me. I asked you to be mine, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish. And you said no.'

'But that doesn't mean I don't...! How would you even get the idea into your head that...? You know how I feel! Of course you know! I mean, I told y–'

The word stuck in my throat as I realised something.

I had never told him.

He had told me about his feelings. Mr Rikkard Ambrose, the living incarnation of stubborn silence, had wrenched open his jaws and confessed his love to me – and I had forgotten to say 'Ditto!'

Oops.

'Ehem...Well...' I cleared my throat. 'I may have made a slight oversight.'

'Indeed, Miss Linton?'

'Indeed, Sir.'

Around us, the musicians struck up the last chords of the dance. We turned into a final whirl, and then, suddenly, the dancers were slowing down, and the first candles at the edge of the dance floor were guttering out. The night was coming to an end.

'Well, Miss Linton?' His face even more beautiful now that it was half-cast in shadow, Rikkard Ambrose stared down at me with enough intensity to make my bones melt. 'What is it that you've forgotten to tell me?'

I opened my mouth to reply – but in that very moment, the music ended, and the last candles guttered out. Laughing voices disappeared out of the room, down the corridor, and a moment later we were alone in the darkness, broken only by thin slivers of moonlight.

The end.

The end of the ball. The end of the night.

The end for us as well?

I cleared my throat.

'I...I should go.'

Cast in shadows as it was, the chiselled face of Rikkard Ambrose was even more of a mystery. He didn't display one single emotion.

'Yes. Yes, you should.'

Neither of us moved.

'Like right now. We should leave right now. The servants may see us if we stay here alone. There will be talk. We should leave, Mr Ambrose.'

'Yes. Yes, we should.'

Still, neither of us moved. Still, we kept staring at each other.

'Why aren't you leaving, Mr Ambrose?' I accused.

'Why aren't you, Miss Linton?'

Silence.

A silence full of words that were dying to be spoken. Some had already died and ascended to heaven on beams of moonlight.

'Miss Linton...I...'

'Yes?'

Slowly, torturously, he reached up, brushing his hand against my cheek.

'Lillian...'

My whole body quivered under his gentle touch. Images flashed through my head, silly ideas, crazy ideas, wonderful ideas, all of them completely impossible. I couldn't! I simply couldn't! But...

'Lillian,' he said again, and once more touched my cheek.

Just a simple little touch.

And I broke.

'Not here.' Hidden by the spreading shadows, I swiftly reached up to catch his hand and give it a gentle squeeze that meant so much more than a simple touch. 'Not here.'

What the heck? What are you talking about, Lilly? You have to move! If his mother sees you...

And then I was moving.

Only...it wasn't away from him.

Strong, familiar hands took hold of me, and swept me off the dancefloor, straight into a shadowy alcove. Before I could ask him what we were doing there, he had pulled aside a curtain, revealing a small door leading out of the ballroom.

'How–'

'The advantages of growing up in a place,' he cut me off. 'Come.'

'Anywhere!' I heard a breathless whisper. Was that girlish promise in the dark me speaking? No. I could never be so foolish and reckless!

Lilly, have you met yourself?

There was a tidal wave building inside me, one strong enough to sweep away the greatest of rocks and the most monumental icebergs. And my heart danced atop the waves, lost in the storm. All I could do was be pulled along as he drew me down the corridor faster and faster, towards the inevitable end. Halfway to my room we slid around a corner, bumped into a wall and slammed into each other. His arms came up around me to catch me, and suddenly we were kissing, and just for a second, I didn't care where we were or what we were doing, or who might walk in on us.

Even his mother?

All right, maybe I did care.

'We...we can't do this,' I whispered against his lips. 'Not here.'

'Agreed,' he told me, and kissed me so hard I saw stars.

'We have to stop,' I told him, and kissed him back so hard he probably saw £ signs.

'Indeed.'

'Then why aren't you stopping?'

'Why aren't you?' he asked, and kissed me again. Damn him! And damn me, too, for letting him! For desperately wanting more!

In dire need, I reached for a special weapon—the magic word.

'Please,' I whispered.

I felt his body shudder.

'Miss Linton...!'

'Please. I need more. But...not here.'

A growl erupted from his chest, and his grip on me tightened. But even that didn't work. Okay. Time for my last resort. Time for the real magic word.

'Now!'

He growled, and suddenly, I was moving again. I did my best to control my grin as he swept me through the dark hallways of Battlewood, but I didn't have much success. The magic word had worked! We moved faster than ever, Mr Ambrose pulling me along, arm in an iron grip around my waist. I was more than eager to keep up, but with his long strides eating up the ground as if it were nothing, it wasn't easy. Finally, he simply swept me up in his arms and carried me along. I gave a half-yelp, half-sigh of pleasure. I didn't even think of protesting, that's how far gone I was.

'Impatient, Sir?' I murmured against his chest.

'You know what they say.' Penetrating the darkness, cold, dark, sea-coloured eyes met mine. 'Knowledge is Power is Time is Money.'

How was it possible that those words made my insides heat? They were the coldest, most callous, calculating words that had ever been invented in the history of humankind, and yet, and yet...

It was him. It was Mr Ambrose, and the fact that the words came from his lips. That tidal wave inside me rose up again, ready to swallow me whole.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of dark brown through the shadows – and Mr Ambrose stopped.

'We're here.'

Here? Where?

Oh, right. My room. I had been so captivated by his eyes that for the moment I had completely forgotten where we were going.

Slowly, he set me down. I reached behind me and felt the smooth wood of the door at my back. The logical part of my brain screamed at me to find the damn doorknob, get inside and lock the door, but I couldn't. Mr Ambrose stood so close...I could feel his icy energy radiating off him, could feel his arctic gaze burning into me. If only I could see his eyes. If only I could read his expression. But it was far too dark for that.

Something thudded against the wood to my left, and a second later to my right. I couldn't see, but I knew: they were Mr Ambrose's arms, caging me in with his hands on either side of the doorframe. There was nowhere for me to run, no way for me to escape him.

As if I really wanted to.

'Now...where were we, Miss Linton?'

He moved closer. I couldn't really see it in the shadows, but I felt it. Felt him.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit weak in the knees. 'Um...well...'

'Ah, I remember.' His voice was smooth as a freshly polished iceberg, and ten times as dangerous. It was a voice that could make kings quiver in their boots. 'You were just about to tell me how you feel about me, Miss Linton.'

'Was I?'

'Yes. You were.'

His tone was hard. Uncompromising. Commanding.

I swallowed again. My throat was bone dry. Why in heaven's name was this so hard?

'How about,' I whispered, standing up on my tiptoes until my eyes were on a level with his, 'if I just show you?'

And I kissed him.

Not with fire.

Not with passion.

With love.

Softly.

Slowly.

Silently.

And Mr Rikkard Ambrose, the arctic iceberg in human form, melted under my touch. He made a sound in the back of his throat I had never heard before – a needy sound.

Mr Rikkard Ambrose needing something?

Oh, sure, he wanted lots of things – money, power, the one hundred and seventy-hour work week – but need? He'd never really needed anything before. Yet to judge by the way his arms slid around me, pulling me so close I could hardly breathe, he needed me now. He needed me with a vengeance!

Breaking away from his mouth, I placed another gentle kiss on his cheek. The words began to tumble out of me, and there was nothing in the world I could have done about it.

'I.'

One more kiss, on his other cheek.

'Love.'

And a third that I somehow, stretching up farther than I would have thought possible, managed to press on his forehead.

'You.'

His arms tightened even more, cutting off my air completely. I didn't mind in the least. Oh, exquisite, fantabulous suffocation! Wouldn't it be spiffing to die this way? Why care that my life would be over, as long as I was in his arms?

'Again!' His voice was more cold and commanding than I had ever heard it – and I loved it! Loved him. 'Say it again!'

That was Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Always get two for the price of one.

'I love you.'

His lips claimed mine for one fiery, fierce, heart-wrenching second. 'Again!'

A laugh escaped me, echoing in the dark hallway. It was a laugh that felt lighter and happier than any in my life. 'Again? How many times until you've had enough?'

His hand captured my chin, turning my face straight towards him. Through the shadows I could just barely make out the dark, sea-coloured pools of his eyes. 'What makes you think I'll ever have enough of you? Now...' Leaning forward until his forehead touched mine and his eyes were burrowing into my soul, he whispered: 'Say. It. Again.'

Feeling a wave of need sweep over me, I gazed into those dark eyes – and the words left my mouth before I could catch them.

'Come inside, and I will.'

The offer hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. Inside. Into my bedroom.

For a long moment there was nothing but silence. Then...

'Miss Linton!'

'Yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir?'

'You can't seriously be suggesting that I...!'

Standing up on my tiptoes, I pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

'Oh yes, I can.'

His body shuddered under my touch.

'I know what you're trying to do!'

'Do you?' Slowly, I let my lips slide from his cheek, down over his lips, onto his throat in a gentle caress. 'Do you really?'

Because I didn't. Someone else had taken control of my body. Someone brave and fearless not just on the outside, but on the inside, too. Someone who wasn't afraid to grab what she wanted when it was right in front of her.

Mr Ambrose slammed his fist into the wall. 'I can't! I'm a gentleman! A gentleman mustn't....a gentleman can't...'

'And I am a lady,' I heard myself tell him. 'I know we mustn't. I know we can't.'

'I have to leave.'

'I know. Me, too.'

'Then go! Go now, before it's too la–'

His words drowned as I reclaimed his lips. Fumbling for the doorknob behind me, I twisted, and kicked the door open. Half-dragging, half falling, I pulled him into the room. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have been able to move him an inch. But right now...

I had just admitted to loving a man. And he loved me back.

Circumstances weren't normal.

Not at all.

'It's already too late,' I told his shadowy form towering above me in the darkness. 'It's been too late for a good, long time.'

'I must leave.' His protest was nothing but a raspy whisper now. 'Right now! It's time to say good night.'

I pressed my forehead to his. 'Oh, it will be a good night, all right. A very good one.'

Under my touch, I could feel his entire body harden, his muscles tensing deliciously. Capturing his face in my hands, I leaned forward, until our lips brushed against each other. 'I love you.'

All I got in return was silence. Silence and that soul-piercing, dangerous look of his.

'Well?' I swallowed. I needed to hear him say it again. 'Do you still love me, too?'