"He's unconscious," Fiona whispered to Nate. "He might die if you hit him more."

"He deserves it," Nate muttered, debating whether to heed her words.

"He does," she surprised him by saying. "But you don't deserve the consequences."

"What consequences? I'm a Duke and he's a Baron."

"Yes. And while I'm sure you might not hang, it will result in scandal and heartache for your mother. It might also affect your relationship with Lady Sophia."

"He dared to impugn your honour, he tried to rape you!"

Fiona flinched a little, the reminder of what might have happened not a pleasant one.

"I must defend your honour," he said more stubbornly.

"It's not yours to defend, your grace," she said softly, but Nate didn't miss the wistfulness in her voice. It only served to increase the pain in his chest.

"As your employer, it is," he said firmly.

"I just want him gone from here. Please..."

"Alright," he sighed heavily and got up. He dusted his clothes although they were beyond repair. The Baron mumbled something, beginning to wake up.

He opened his eyes and sneered at Fiona but his look turned fearful when Nate nudged his side with his boot.

"I want you away from my house, you hear me? If you so much as think about hurting a hair on Miss Butterworth's head even if she chooses to leave my employment in the future, I will kill you. Now get up, pack your bags and take your sorry ass out of here," Nate said menacingly.

The Baron nodded and got up to do his bidding—although he made a hideous sight...his nose was still bleeding and his face was beginning to swell.

"Wait."

He turned around, his eyes wide.

"You will apologise to her."

"There's no way in hell I'm apologising to this bitch—" he began but Nate cut him off with another punch.

"You will address her with nothing but respect," he roared.

"I'm sorry," Redgrave mumbled, nursing his newly injured jaw and ran off.

"I'm sorry you had to see that and I'm sorry he was able to get you alone this way. I never imagined he'd stoop so low," Nate murmured and walked towards where Fiona stood.

"Thank you for believing me," she smiled hesitantly.

Nate cupped her chin, his hand gentle—unlike how it had been when he'd been packing punches onto the Baron's face.

"You have no idea of how I feel about you, do you?" he asked, his voice laden with amusement.

"And let's keep it that way," she whispered.

"We should. But I can't hold myself back when it's you...I lose the control that I pride myself over. Why do you think I kissed you all those times? I have tried to resist you but—"

"Why are you telling me all this now?" she gasped, her eyes wide with hurt and something else—hope.

"So you understand when I kiss you again. And I have to do that, if only to make sure it wipes off the memory of Redgrave," he said softly and held her face in his palms as gently as he would if she were made of glass.

Fiona swallowed. She opened her mouth to say that this was wrong, that kissing would be a mistake. But no sound emerged. He was right...she needed a new memory to replace that of the Baron's. And while his kisses only reminded her of how she couldn't have him, it made her forget—if only for a few seconds.

"You don't find my kisses repulsive, do you?" He asked. Fiona almost laughed. Repulsive, indeed!

She shook her head slowly.

"Good," he murmured and then took her lips in a kiss that stole her breath.

For all his seriousness and gentlemanly veneer, her Duke was a quite talented kisser. The way his hands roamed her body bespoke of an inner restlessness.

Fiona realised he'd been scared too. She was beginning to understand him.

And he needed this kiss just as much as she did.

So she allowed her eye lids to lower and her hands to wrap about his neck. And then she gave herself up to him with a low moan.

When they pulled back, both of them were breathing hard.

"I can't get enough of you," he said hoarsely and lowered his head again.

Fiona let herself enjoy it while it lasted. He was rousing in her a tempest and she could feel it consuming her. Her toes curled in her slippers and her knees went weak.

But she didn't have to worry about falling to the ground in a heap because he was holding her tight. She was practically plastered to him!

He slowly moved her backwards until she was pressed up against a wall.

She noted more than just the movement of his mouth on hers. She felt his strong thighs pressed up against hers and her breasts tingled where they touched his chest.

Most of all, she noticed what part of his anatomy was pressed against her belly.

Goodness gracious.

Oh but she was wicked. Because it didn't repulse her or scare her—she felt powerful and curious...excited even.

"Your grace," she whispered, unsure of what to do.

"Call me Nate," he growled, his breathing harsh.

"Nate," she tested the name on her tongue. But he only growled again and began to kiss her.

"I want you so much," he said fiercely.

Pretty words, she thought to herself but refrained from responding. She didn't want to spoil this moment with conversation.

He jumped away from her when they heard a sound.

A young footman walked in, taking in the scene before him with wide eyes. It seemed unlikely that he wouldn't figure it all out.

Fiona was positive her coiffure was falling apart and that her lips were swollen. Nate looked no better—his hair was a mess (she didn't feel very guilty about it though) and his cravat was twisted.

Not to mention, they were both breathing hard.

"I'll be on my way, I just came—" he was stuttering but Nate cut him off.

"There's no need, Miss Butterworth and I were just leaving," he said calmly and offered her his arm.

She took it and they swept out of the stables as if the Duke didn't just have her against the wall a few seconds ago.

Once they were sure they were far from the footman, they burst out laughing.

"That was close," she grinned.

"Very," he chuckled, recovering slightly.

"But this can't happen again," she added more seriously. "And I'm not just saying this. I needed comfort and you comforted me, end of the story."

Nate nodded solemnly, the prospect of not being able to kiss Fiona whenever he wished (which was always) was a dull one.

But she was right. It wouldn't do if he were disloyal to his betrothed. He couldn't forget his responsibilities for a few minutes of heaven with Fiona.

And this alliance was important for his dukedom.

Or so he kept telling himself.