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“Shakespeare?” She knew how fond he was of the Bard, but this time she wasn’t really sure.
    He nodded. “Richard II.”
    Ariel sipped her tea, then carefully set the cup back down in its saucer. “I should love to see it performed sometime.”
    â€œThen I shall make it a point to take you.” He reached out and caught both of her hands. “My dearest Ariel. You must know the way I feel.”
    She glanced down at the hands holding hers, soft, pale hands, the hands of a gentleman. Her heart beat almost painfully. Surely it was too soon for him to speak of marriage.
    â€œI don’t … don’t know what to say.”
    Phillip glanced to the door, which Ariel hadn’t realized was closed, eased her nearer, then pulled her into his arms. “I realize we haven’t known each other long, but sometimes, when two people share such a strong attraction, time isn’t important. I must kiss you, my darling Ariel. I have thought of nothing else since the moment I first saw you. I’ve gone half-mad thinking about it.”
    Ariel felt suddenly uneasy. As Phillip had said, they’d been seeing each other for little more than a week. “Phillip, I don’t think—”
    His lips cut off her words. She had never been kissed before, but she had dreamed about it often. Though the sensation was pleasant, there was none of the fire she had imagined, none of the glorious passion. She gasped as she felt Phillip’s hand on the underside of her breast, and he took full advantage, sliding his tongue inside her mouth.
    Shock jolted through her. What was he thinking of to take such liberties? Did he believe she was the sort of woman who would allow a man she barely knew to touch her so intimately? Determined to end the kiss, she tried to twist free, shoving her hands against his chest just as Phillip abruptly jerked away, surging to his feet so fast he nearly knocked her off the sofa.
    He was breathing hard, his hands tightly clenched. “Greville…” was all he said.
    She hadn’t heard the door swing open. Now, as she struggled to comprehend what was happening, she saw that a man stood just inside the drawing room. He was several inches taller than Phillip, with a dark complexion and jet-black hair. His mouth was set, his jaw clenched so hard it appeared cast in stone. Eyes the color of pewter sliced into her like a knife blade.
    â€œWho … who are you?” she asked, the icy chill of his gaze making it difficult to force out the words.
    â€œI believe your … companion … knows well enough who I am.”
    Phillip turned confused blue eyes in her direction. “I thought you said Greville was your cousin.”
    â€œI said that, but this isn’t—”
    The tall man made a stiff, formal bow of his head. “Justin Ross, Fifth Earl of Greville, at your service, madam.” Rage, barely controlled, dripped from every word. When he turned those fierce gray eyes on Phillip, she could have sworn he flinched. “Miss Summers and I have business to discuss,” the earl said curtly. “I believe, Mr. Marlin, it is in your best interest to leave.”
    Wordlessly Phillip rose from the sofa, his pale hands still clenched into fists. A blast of cold seemed to pervade the room as the two men stared at each other. Phillip clamped his jaw, turned, and walked toward the door.
    â€œPhillip … wait!” But he only kept on walking, out of the room and down the hall, his footsteps a chilling, hollow echo as they receded.
    Ariel fixed her attention on the man beside the door. “I don’t … don’t understand what is happening.”
    His smile could have frozen steel. “What is happening, my dear, is that my father, the fourth Earl of Greville, was good enough to die some two years past, leaving his title to me.”
    Ariel nervously wet her lips. “The earl … the earl is