How about if I just show you?

My own words, thrown back at me, echoed in my head like the harp of a fallen angel. Did he really mean what I thought he meant?

This can't be happening. Those words can't have come from the lips of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. He never wanted to before! He never...

But then a sliver of moonlight cut through the darkness, falling upon his stone-hard, serious face – and I knew. I knew I had heard right. I knew that those delicious words wouldn't be the only incredible thing to come tonight.

The backs of my legs hit the bed. Suddenly I was falling. The soft down engulfed me and I lay on my back, gazing up at Mr Ambrose towering above me.

'Lillian.'

My name on his lips was a plea. A command. It was everything and more.

Reaching up with one trembling hand, I touched his chest and licked my lips, tasting the unfamiliar word before I spoke it.

'Rikkard.'

He moved. Or did I? It was hard to tell when a moment later we collided with a force too great for any heart to survive. Clutching at each other, we rolled across the king-sized bed, hands tugging at each other's clothes, lips seeking lips.

This is crazy! This can't be happening! Not with Mr Rikkard Stone-Cold Ambrose!

But if this wasn't him and me, who then? Some strange doppelganger with a pounding heart alive with love? If so, who was the man above me? The stone-hard, powerful, perfect man whose hands were tearing at my clothes in a frenzy? Surely it couldn't be the one I truly wanted.

'Lillian!'

That voice, breathing my name...

His voice.

'Please!' And that had sounded like my voice. 'Please! I need you!'

Yes, it had really sounded like me. But I would never admit such a thing.

Then came the broken whisper out of the darkness:

'I need you too, Lilly.'

All right, that proved it. Whoever this was who was quickly and efficiently tearing off my clothing, it was not Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

Or at least that was what I thought until his lips brushed my ear and whispered: 'I love you.'

I shook under the force of those three words. Such unimportant words, my mind had always told me – until that moment. In that moment, my world shattered and reformed, and suddenly they were more important than anything else. More important than solid chocolate. More important than life. More important than my desire for a raise.

'Love you, too!'

There was that voice again, that voice sounding just like mine. But why did it sound so breathless? Maybe it had something to do with the mouth leaving a trail of burning kisses down my throat?

'Please, Sir... Please, now.'

'Yes.'

Strong, familiar fingers found the neckline of my dress, encountering resistance. A ripping sound came out of the darkness. Was he tearing off clothes? Was I? Was it a freak storm?

I didn't really care, because the storm of desire rising inside me was strong enough for both of us. The night around us was silent and black as pitch, but inside of me, a fire was burning, and the mingled sounds of our gasps fanned the flames with every breath we took. Cloth tore. Silk brushed my skin as my dress slid away to disappear, torn and discarded, into the shadows. Cool air tickled me and, instinctively, I pressed myself closer against him, feeling...

Bare skin.

Bare skin over strong, hard, muscles.

A heady feeling rushed up inside of me. This was actually happening! This wasn't just a bit of hanky-panky in the office, or a kiss in the heat of the jungle. We were together, in a bed, on the verge of...

I couldn't quite think the word. Not yet. But I could feel it. Feel the need burning inside me. Feel his skin burn into mine with a heat I would never have thought this iceberg capable of.

'Lillian.'

A thrill raced down my spine. Would I ever get tired of the sound of my name on his lips?

A moment later, his mouth claimed mine and gave me the answer: yes! There were so much more interesting things for his lips to do than talking. Hot things. Needy things. Things that left me panting and pleading for more.

'Please...!'

'Soon.'

Breaking the kiss, he reached out with one hand and cupped my face in the gentlest gesture I had ever seen him make, except perhaps the time he'd handled that Ming vase worth over two hundred thousand pounds.

Bloody hell! Was I feeling jealous of a piece of pottery?

I was!

Ha, just you wait, you stupid little vase! I'll show you! I bet you couldn't do this, could you?

My hands flew up into the shadows. Grabbing him by the lapels, I jerked him down towards me. His supporting arm slipped and he toppled onto the bed. We rolled over until I came to rest on top, where I belonged.

'What are you doing?' he demanded.

'What do you think?' Pressing a heated kiss to the corner of his mouth, I took a tighter hold on his lapels, and tugged. There was a ripping sound and buttons scattered in all directions.

'Miss Linton!'

My cheek pressed softly against his, I whispered, 'You called me Lillian just now.'

There was a moment of silence. Then, in a voice that was slightly hoarser than usual, he said:

'That will take money to repair!'

'Deduct it from my salary. I don't care!' Moisture pricked the corner of my eye, but right now, that didn't matter to me. Right now, I didn't need or want to keep my defences up. I let the single tear trickle down my cheek, unashamed. My hands curled into the last layer of cloth that lay between us, and tugged it off. 'It was worth it. You're worth it.'

Silence.

And not the cold kind.

The dumbstruck kind.

As it extended and spread through the darkness like a blanket of snow, enveloping us, I suddenly realised something: that just now had probably been the first time in a very long time that anyone had told Mr Rikkard Ambrose he was worth it – worth anything.

Oh, I was sure he got more compliments than there were stars in the sky, from sycophants and lickspittles who wanted to ingratiate themselves with the richest man of the British Empire. But a truly heartfelt compliment from someone who knew him and cared?

When was the last time he had heard one?

Better question, Lilly: when was the last time that someone who really knows him was crazy enough to care?

'You are!' The words spilled out of my mouth before I could think twice about them. Grasping his face, I moved closer until even in the darkness, I could see into his eyes. 'You are worth it! You may be a stubborn, chauvinistic, cold-hearted, ruthless, self-righteous son of a bachelor–'

'Don't flatter me too much, Miss Linton.'

'–but you're a good man. Well, to me, anyway. Sometimes. Mostly.'

'Are you quite sure that you are in love with me?'

'Yes!'

'Just checking.'

Instead of answering, I kissed him again. Long and hard and with all my heart. Then, slowly, I let my lips wander. First over his cheek, then across his stone-hard jaw, and further down to where, usually, his ten-year-old mint-condition tailcoat was to be found. Now there was no tailcoat. No nothing. There was only him.

And he...

He was really truly mine?

I got my answer when strong arms slid around my shoulders, pulling me closer until my cheek was cradled against his rock-hard chest.

Safety.

Warmth.

Love.

Never in my life before had anyone made me feel like this – like a small child, and at the same time like the strongest most beautiful woman alive. I couldn't keep the smile from tugging at the corners of my mouth. Was this real? Was Mr Ambrose, Mr Rikkard Stone Face Ambrose actually making me smile?

He was. And it felt wonderful in more ways than I could have dreamed of. I had expected the intoxicating rush of this encounter, had expected to feel heat and need and passion – but never in a million years would I have expected how close it would make me feel. Close to him. Close to his heart.

Let's not forget his body, shall we?

Good point.

Tentatively, I reached out. Feeling almost like a naughty child touching an invaluable artwork, my fingers brushed against his chest. He was so hard, so smooth, I might really have thought he was a sculpture hewn from stone if I hadn't felt him tremble beneath me.

'I'm sure,' I repeated, my words a whispered breath against his skin. 'I love you.'

His arms tightened around me. 'Adequate.'

I couldn't help grinning like a fool. My greedy fingers continued to explore. I couldn't see a thing, couldn't catch a single glimpse of his perfection – but that didn't matter. Because no matter how perfect he might look, how chiselled his muscles might appear in bright daylight, it was nothing compared to how they felt, bare to the touch. Heat rose inside me to meet his ice and stone. I wanted more. Touch more. Feel more. It wasn't enough. It would never be.

'Corset!'

My breathless demand was hardly audible, but he caught it. A second later, his fingers were at the back of my corset, tearing open lacings as if they were no more substantial than cobwebs. The bloody cumbersome thing fell away, and I was free! Free to move, free to feel, free to do terrifying and wonderful things.

'Come!'

I didn't have the best track record when it came to obeying commands coming from Mr Rikkard Ambrose – but that one I obeyed without hesitation. Gripping his broad shoulders as if they were a lifeline, I closed the distance between us, just as he grabbed me to do the same. We clashed like ice and fire, like rock and not-so-solid chocolate. With only a thin chemise between us, his chest dug into me almost painfully hard. Almost. And if there was a bit of pain, it was the kind that only made you want more.

'Miss Linton...you are...!'

His voice trailed off, and the silence said more than a million words could ever have. His hands slid up under my chemise, worshipping me, tentatively exploring every single inch. In every touch, I could feel the truth: I was his love, and he was mine.

'I know,' I whispered to my man in the shadows. 'I feel the same.'

Safely wrapped in darkness, I let my fingers travel farther and farther, clinging to him while his strong arms held me and his hands continued to worship me. His body was like a beautiful landscape made from bedrock. Hard ridges and shallow dips, smooth plains that I wanted to kiss a thousand times. I revelled in every single inch. Felt them. Claimed them. And as I did, slowly a realisation began to sink in:

He's real, Lilly. He's really real, and he's yours.

Tentatively, I moved both my hands until they were lying lightly on his chest. The strong beats of his heart under my hands fired my blood, making my own heart thump faster with a feeling for which there was only one word.

Love.

It was love. Both in his heart and mine. And whatever the morning brought, I wanted this night with him.

Bending down, I pressed a gentle kiss on his chest, eliciting a groan from deep inside him.

'Miss Linton...Lillian–'

'Shh!' Quickly, I covered his mouth with a single finger. I didn't want to hear if by chance he had any more reasonable, well-thought-out objections to our night together. I was not in a very reasonable mood. 'Remember what they say? Silence is golden.'

'And you,' he told me, his sea-coloured eyes finding me even in the pitch-black darkness, 'are diamond.'

His words nearly made my heart burst. Bending down, I retaliated in kind, pressing a gentle kiss just above his heart.

That did it. Whatever restraint he'd still possessed before was gone. A growl erupted from his chest, and suddenly I was on my back, Mr Rikkard Ambrose was above me, gleaming in a sliver of moonlight. Holy Mammon! If I'd thought he was beautiful before, that was nothing compared to the sight of him hovering above me, the remnants of his shirt hanging in tatters around his waist, muscles shining in the silver moonlight. The storm in his eyes had abruptly turned into a hurricane, ready to devour anything that came into its path.

Me! Me! Take me!

The words were as clear on my face as they were in my head, and Mr Rikkard Ambrose – he was not one for wasting time. Ravenously, he plunged down and claimed my mouth in a searing kiss. Capturing both my wrists with one powerful hand he pinned them to the bed, taking charge, riding the wave of passion rising in us both. I bowed under him, losing my mind and my body. Losing them to him, and never wanting them back.

'Tell me you're mine!' he commanded.

'I'm yours!' For tonight. Just tonight.

'Tell me you want this!'

It felt like a command. It sounded like a command. But from the way his free hand reached out of the shadows to caress my cheek, I knew it wasn't. He was asking in the only way Rikkard Ambrose could.

Turning my face into his hand, I pressed a soft kiss onto his palm.

'Yes.'

With a primal noise of satisfaction, he slid his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me up for a kiss that rocked me to my core. I hardly heard the ripping noise, hardly noticed a thing until cool air touched my skin and I realised: It's done. The last barrier between us is gone.

He released my hands.

Silence fell. Reverent silence. Silence filled with love.

Reaching up, I tenderly caressed his face.

'This...this is my first time. Will you do something for me?'

Even through the darkness, I could see the storm roiling in his eyes. 'Anything.'

'Oh. Good.' Quickly, I reached over to my bedside table, pulled one of the little items I had in stock for just such an eventuality out of the drawer and pressed it into his hand. 'Put this on, will you?'