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Her nephew had nearly died, and he was disgruntled because he believed she wanted to leave?

He didn’t even know if she’d be a capable housekeeper. She didn’t know if she would either. Which frightened her, because that was truly her last respectable resort.

She firmed her mouth. “My lord—”

“Chester,” he corrected, entwining a hand in her hair while something as hot and potent as the fire behind her flared in his gaze.

Oh no, you don’t. I’m not falling for that again. I may have lost my heart, but my virtue is intact.

Summoning her most professional mien, she refused to allow him to see how he affected her. “I’m grateful for the position, but even you must realize it’s not my first choice.”

“What would be your first choice, Eden?” His gaze deepened, holding her reluctant attention. “If you could have your heart’s desire, have any wish granted, what would it be?”

He kissed her nose, the act so tender and endearing, tears threatened.

Why did it have to be this man who penetrated her heart? Who was able to make her feel all the things she couldn’t for Vicar Wright? A man far beyond her reach?

“I know what mine is,” he murmured.

He kept wrapping her hair around his hand, drawing her face closer and closer to his until only a couple of inches separated their mouths.

And of course, though she ordered her gaze to stay locked with his, the dratted, traitorous thing dipped to his sculpted lips. Lips she craved to taste again.

This was dangerous, sharing innermost secrets. A ridiculous game of fancies and dreams. It spoke of an intimacy forbidden to her.

He was the next Duke of DeCourcy.

She was his bastard housekeeper.

It didn’t take a scholar to decipher the obvious.

“I’ll go first,” he said, tracing a finger from her ear, along her jaw, and to her chin, which he gently tipped upward. “My greatest wish is that you have your greatest wish.”

Could he have said anything more unselfish? More moving? More perfect?

Another layer of self-protection crumbled.

She opened her mouth to respond but no words came forth.

What could she say?

That her greatest wish was to be with him? Forever?

Then his mouth was on hers again, and she forgot her vows to remain aloof and impervious to him. Forgot she was beneath his touch and that she could never hope for more.

Whether it was the scare he’d had earlier, or that he’d lost hold of the rigid restraint keeping his passion in check, she couldn’t say. He was like a man long starved, holding her face in both hands, raining kisses over her eyes and cheeks and mouth.

He released her face and gripped her bottom with one hand, lifting her into the rigid hardness pressing into her belly, and at the same time cupped her head, angling it so he had access to her neck and chest. The low bodice of her simple gown gave him access to much more.

His lips met hers again, and such a rush of sensation ambushed her, her knees came unhinged. She opened her mouth to his ravenous onslaught, finding an answering hunger billowing through her.

“Eden, say you’ll be mine,” he whispered against her cheek. “I know you want me as much as I want you.”

That cooled her rampant ardor.

She must make him understand; she would never be any man’s plaything.

Never.

“My lord, aren’t you forgetting about Miss Bickford? Your soon-to-be betrothed?”