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  “Passion is always important. And you’re a bloody fool if you don’t think so.”

  “I agree it’s important, but unlike you, I also know that feelings matter just as much, if not more. Miss Heely might well give in to her passions, sooner than she would have due to your interference, but in the end, in order for their relationship to last longer than one night, more than her body must be engaged. She needs to know Mr. Gallagher-- ”

  “Based on what occurred against that bookcase,” I said, jerking my head in that direction, “where Mr. Gallagher gave Miss Heely the orgasm of her life, I’d say she knows him very well.”

  Color flooded her cheeks and unmistakable anger flared in her eyes. “That is not what I meant. And that’s exactly why you’ve failed in all your previous attempts to free yourself from Pre-Pearly Gate.” She skewered me with a look that conveyed both disappointment and disgust. “You know nothing of True Love. And do you know why?”

  “I’m certain you’re about to tell me.”

  “It’s because you’ve never loved anyone other than yourself. And that isn’t love. That’s nothing but narcissism. Ego. Pride. And utter selfishness.”

  Her words seemed to freeze my insides, entombing them in ice. I knew I was a prideful, selfish bastard so her assessment of my failings was hardly a news flash. Still, hearing her state them so baldly filled me with a sensation that felt precisely like… hurt.

  “I’m well aware of your low opinion of me and we’ve previously established I’m completely unlovable, something I’ve known since my earliest memories,” I said in my frostiest tone. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to fail at getting these two humans to mate. And then I’ll be in Heaven-- figuratively, and literally because I’ll never have to see the likes of you again.”

  I could actually see the tension swirling in the air between us, radiating in a churning arc of fiery crimson sparkles. She brushed them away with an impatient hand. “Once again you’ve proven my point regarding your lack of knowledge of both love and women because just getting them to mate is not going to accomplish your goal.”

  Whereas only seconds ago her judgment had chilled me, it now flooded me with a white-hot anger the likes of which I’d never before known. And the way she was looking at me, as if I were something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe, only served to infuriate me further.

  “I am bloody well sick and tired of you harping on this idiotic theory that I know nothing of women. I’d wager I spent more time in the company of females than you spent on Earth before your demise. Believe me, I know plenty. And I’m telling you, even if Miss Heely experienced an ‘oooh, I shouldn’t have done that’ moment, she was secretly thrilled to have that man’s hard body pressed against her, his tongue in her mouth, and his fingers inside her.”

  Gratified when her color deepened, I continued, “Indeed, your insistence regarding my alleged ignorance makes me wonder if it’s your own ignorance regarding passion you’re attempting to hide. Let’s see… you died in 1924 at the age of… ” I quickly assessed her face, “I’m guessing twenty-two or three?”

  She hesitated then said, “Twenty-three.”

  “Had you been married?”

  “I cannot see how that is any of your business or in any way relevant to our conversation.”

  “I’ll take that as a no. Engaged?”

  “I cannot see how that’s-- ”

  “Any of my business, relevant to our conversation, blah, blah, blah. I’ll take that as another no. In fact, given your icy temperament, unfriendly demeanor, and utterly galling superiority complex, I’d venture to say you never even had a suitor. Unless of course the poor fellow was an escapee from Bedlam, for surely only an insane man would involve himself with a termagant like you. Yet given how few men ever escaped Bedlam, and of those even fewer who managed to travel to Italy, I’d bet the family estate there was never a suitor. Yet here you are, preaching that I know nothing of passion. Lecturing me on a subject about which you clearly know nothing.”

  The hypocrisy of that made me feel as if my blood boiled through my veins. I couldn’t recall ever experiencing such raw, profound anger. Such bone-deep frustration. It scraped at me, a rusty pitch fork against my insides, along with something else. Something I couldn’t name, although it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. Something I’d felt before, but not for a very long time. It prickled the edges of my memory, and combined with my rage it propelled me to advance a step toward her. She must have sensed my dangerous mood because, to my dark delight, wariness flickered in her eyes and she back up a step. Then another. Her shoulders hit the bookcase.

  I erased the distance between us in two quick strides and slapped my palms against the shelf on either side of her head, caging her in. I expected her to protest, to show some fear, but instead the wariness had left her eyes, replaced by a haughtiness that notched my temper even higher. How the bloody hell was it possible for a woman who stood at least half a foot shorter than me to look down her nose at me? And how was it that she appeared so perfectly calm and unruffled while I… I felt like a wet cat that had been dragged backwards through a thorny bush.

  She moistened her lips, zeroing my attention on her mouth. What a shame that such a carnal, plump mouth was wasted on this uptight harpy. An image slammed into my brain… of my humans. In this exact position, against the bookcase. Passionately kissing. Touching. Moaning with pleasure.

  Heat flooded my entire body, a flare of fire that ignited something inside me. Before I could decipher what it was, she lifted her chin a notch and said, “As it just so happens, Lord Ryland, I know a great deal about passion.”

  “Indeed?” Myriad dark emotions roiled through me, goading me, provoking me beyond all endurance, all magnified by her bloody calm indifference. “And here I would have believed it much more likely you’d never even been kissed.”

  Her narrowed gaze never wavered, although another layer of crimson stained her cheeks. “I was kissed. Many times.”

  Something that felt exactly like jealousy, but of course wasn’t stabbed me, propelling me into the dark abyss of swirling emotions and seething anger that yawned before me. “Then you won’t mind if I do this.”

  I yanked her into my arms and slammed my mouth down on hers.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Do you prefer red or white?” Liam asked, trying his damnedest to study The Lodge’s wine list-- no easy task when his eyeballs kept straying across the table to Emma. “Or maybe champagne?”

  “Merlot, please.”

  Liam chose a bottle and gave the waiter their order. With that out of the way, his eyeballs once again locked on Emma. He wracked his brain for something, anything to say other than I want to touch you, kiss you again and came up blank. So he decided to go with an unvarnished truth.

  “Looking at you and being able to form coherent sentences at the same time isn’t working out real well, Emma.”

  Even the restaurant’s low lighting couldn’t hide the wash of color that spread across her cheeks. “Flattery will get you nowhere.” Then she shook her head. “Actually, that’s a lie. It will get you… somewhere. I don’t know exactly where, but not… nowhere.” She flashed him a sheepish smile. “Talk about not being able to form a coherent sentence.”

  He laughed. “I thought that was pretty impressive.”

  “Clearly you’re easy to please.”

  “I think it’s more a case that you’re extremely pleasing.”

  She hiked up a brow. “More flattery.”

  “Yup. Back on the road to not… nowhere. But it’s sincerely meant.”

  “In that case I thank you.”

  She opened her menu and he did the same, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her to look at the printed words. The flames dancing in the huge fireplace of The Lodge’s cozy dining room cast her in an intriguing combination of shadows and golden glow. He watched her study the menu, taking in her shiny curls, smooth skin, gorgeous lips, and those nerdy glasses that magnified her bea
utiful eyes and turned him on to the point of pain. He gripped the menu tighter, determined not to give in to the overwhelming urge to touch her. Because the last time he’d touched her he’d completely lost control of himself, a situation he knew that had unsettled her. God knows it had unsettled him. He wasn’t going to screw this up.

  But just then an image flashed in his mind… of Emma leaning against her bookcase, back arched, skin flushed, nipples hard, a throaty moan escaping her kiss-swollen lips as she came. His muscles tensed as every drop of blood in his body seemed to pool in his groin.

  “Everything okay, Liam?”

  No. I’m as hard as cement and I’m supposed to be deciding on my meal but the only thing I’m hungry for is you. “Everything’s great. Why do you ask?”

  “You, um, groaned.”

  Just then the waiter returned with their wine, saving Liam from replying. As the waiter poured them each a glass, Liam shifted in his seat in an effort to relieve the strangulation occurring in his trousers. Damn, this was embarrassing. Like being fourteen and getting an unwanted boner because a hot girl walked by.

  After pouring, the waiter asked Emma for her order. Liam watched her glossy lips form the words, all the while imaging covering that plump mouth with his own. Touching his tongue to hers--

  “And for you, sir?”

  The waiter’s voice snapped Liam from his sensual musings. “What?”

  “Your order, sir.”

  “Order?”

  “Yes. What would you like for dinner?”

  “Oh. Right.” He closed his menu and handed it to the waiter. “I’ll, uh, have the same as her,” he said, nodding toward Emma.

  After the waiter departed Emma regarded him with an amused expression. “Do you know what I ordered for dinner?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “What if you don’t like my choice? Or are allergic or something?”

  “I’m not allergic to anything and as far as food goes, I like everything. Well, everything except Lima beans, so if you ordered them, I’m screwed. But as far as I’m concerned, this meal is less about what I’m eating and all about who I’m eating with.” He lifted his wine glass. “Here’s to… ” His voice trailed off as he tried to think of something other than “us” as that might scare her off, and that’s the last thing he wanted.

  “An enjoyable evening?” she suggested.

  “And enjoyable evening,” he agreed then touched the rim of his glass to hers. After tasting the merlot, he decided that given his difficulty forming coherent sentences his best strategy was to get her talking. “How did you come to be London’s librarian? You don’t sound like you’re originally from the south.”

  “I’m not. I was raised in Massachusetts.”

  “That’s a long way from London.”

  “Yes.” She took a sip of wine. “Which is exactly the point. The thousand miles between here and my family is a good buffer zone.”

  “Your parents and brother and sister?” he asked, recalling the photo on her book shelf.

  “That’s them.” She contemplated him over the rim of her glass. “Are you sure you want to know all this? I don’t want to bore you. We could talk about sports. Or cars. I’m no expert but I have a working knowledge of both topics.”

  “Good to know, but I’d rather talk about you,” he said, stating the simple truth. “I want to know everything about you, Emma. And you couldn’t possibly bore me.”

  She huffed out a quick laugh. “That remains to be seen. But in the interests of not putting you to sleep, I’ll give you the condensed version. I’m the proverbial black sheep of my family.”

  Liam’s brows shot up. “You’re kidding. I would have pegged you as the Golden Child.”

  “’Fraid not. With the exception of my dad, the family breathed a collective sigh of relief when I moved away. As did I. My parents are both brilliant. My dad is an astrophysicist, and my mother is one of the nation’s leading experts on property law. They’re both tenured professors at Harvard.”

  Holy crap. Based on that photo, he’d thought her parents looked scholarly. And Harvard no less. “Is that where you went to school?”

  “No. To the horror of my Harvard alum mother, I broke with tradition and went to Yale instead.”

  Liam nodded. “Yeah, I can see why she’d be horrified. Sheesh. Yale. What a crappy school.”

  Emma laughed. “It ignited a war-- after all, both my brother and sister were Harvard grads and it was expected I would go as well. But I wanted to get away from home, be on my own. And that meant not attending a school where both my parents taught and in a town where my academically gifted siblings had left their legacies. My ace in the hole was the fact that my dad’s a Yale graduate, so with him in my corner, I eventually won.”

  “Something tells me you’re pretty academically gifted yourself.”

  She shrugged. “I always enjoyed school, the atmosphere of learning, the challenge of discovering something new.”

  “Do your brother and sister still live in Massachusetts?”

  “Yes. They both fulfilled their potential by earning doctorates in their respective fields. Jennifer is a microbiologist and married to the foremost cardiologist in Boston. John is a chemical engineer. His wife is one of my mother’s former students, graduated first in her class and recently made partner at Boston’s most prestigious law firm. So, if you add up my rebellious streak, my appalling lack of a Ph.D., my insignificant job, my disastrous dating history which has subsequently led to my lack of a mate who is tops in his chosen field, I am basically a disgrace to the Heely name.”

  Liam could only shake his head. “Seriously? They all think that?”

  “My uber type-A tiger-mom? Definitely. And she’s always quick to remind me of my failings whenever we speak, so we chat as infrequently as I can manage it. I was never particularly close with Jennifer and John, but some of that stems from the fact that they’re eight years older. Plus they have that whole twin bond between them. So there was never much room for me. The rest of it has to do with the fact that they share my mother’s dim view of my career choice and inexcusable lack of advanced education.”

  Liam could only shake his head and offer up a quick prayer of thanks for his own supportive family. “What about your dad?”

  “We get along very well. He’s respectful of my choices and when we don’t see eye to eye, we simply agree to disagree. He’s your stereotypical absent-minded professor.” She gave a quick laugh. “Very fond of patting the kids on the head and calling us by the wrong name. Until about three years ago his work was his entire life.”

  “What happened three years ago?”

  “He divorced my mother. She didn’t take it well. Six months later Dad met Mandy and three months after that he married her. Mom didn’t take that well, either.”

  “Is Mandy also a scientist?”

  Emma’s lips twitched. “Not even close. Mandy owns a florist shop in Cambridge. One day Dad was lost in thought and wandered into Mandy’s store by mistake. Thought it was the dry cleaner. And the rest, as they say, is history.” She chuckled. “You can imagine my very educated mother’s horror that my dad would take up with someone who’d attended community college. Heh, heh, heh.”

  Liam grinned. “That’s an evil laugh if I’ve ever heard one.”

  “Apparently I have an evil streak.” She raised her brows. “Does that alarm you?”

  “No. I don’t scare easily. Does the fact that I attended community college alarm you?”

  “Not a bit.” One corner of her mouth quirked upward. “I don’t scare easily.”

  “Good. So, do you like Mandy?”

  Emma nodded. “I love her. She’s a few years younger than my dad. Was widowed five years ago and has one grown son who lives in Texas. She’s friendly and fun, energetic and warm, and she smiles all the time. She’s the complete opposite of my very serious, very formidable mother. I’ve never seen my dad so happy. He’s like a little kid who just discovered Santa and candy
. It’s really nice to see. Outwardly it might appear they have little in common, but their core values are totally in sync and their personalities complement each other perfectly. She’s fascinated by my dad’s intellect, and he simply adores everything about her. Ying and yang.”

  “Has your mother remarried?”

  “No. As far as I know, she hasn’t even gone on a date. She’s married to her work. Always has been.” Her expression turned serious. “I do love her. She’s my mother, and she’s not a bad person-- you know, no murders or anything. That I know of. But she’s very difficult. A brilliant, career-driven perfectionist who expects, actually demands, that everyone around her live up to the very exacting standards she sets for herself. Good qualities for a lawyer, but not so much for exuding warm fuzzies to a family. I spent the first eighteen years of my life trying to meet her expectations. It wasn’t until I went away to college that I began discovering me. And life in general.”

  “And what did you discover?”

  She paused to take another sip of her wine then said, “I discovered fun. Laughter. That there was more to life than textbooks and studying. More on tv than documentaries. That parties could be enjoyable events rather than solely career networking opportunities. That people actually celebrated birthdays with gifts and cake.”

  “What did you think birthdays were celebrated with?”

  “Nothing. It wasn’t something we did. It was just another day on the calendar. Another day to study, to read, to do schoolwork.”

  Liam could only stare. “You’re telling me you didn’t have birthday parties?”

  “No parties. No cake. No candles. No happy birthday song.”

  “That’s… ” He shook his head, filled with sympathy for her as memories of his various childhood birthday celebrations flashed through his mind. “I don’t know. Really sad.”

  “True, although I didn’t really know what I was missing until I left home. I had my first birthday party freshman year. I cut myself a big-ass piece of cake with extra frosting and ate it in eighteen bites-- one for each year.” A smile flirted with the corner of her lips. “It was the best, most satisfying piece of cake I’d ever eaten.”