'Will you not tell me where we are going my lord?' Sybrina was sure the route looked familiar to her.

'We're going to Cavendish Castle,' he smiled handsomely.

'But the Countess will be there and your staff,' Sybrina exclaimed.

'The Countess is out visiting. My staff are discreet. I pay them highly to be so.'

Sybrina was pleased she would not have to deal with the dowager. She could still remember the dowager's critical head to toe inspection, when she'd last visited.

'You won't ride with me in an open carriage. You're too ashamed to be seen with me in public. So I have no choice but to entertain you in my private home,' he declared.

'Why couldn't we have just have had a meal at Mother Agnes'?''

'With Mother Agnes' ever watchful eye on me and every other person demanding your attention. I don't think so.'

It was true. She never had a moment to herself in the orphanage. Either the cook, or the grounds men, or one of the children had some need that demanded her time. He was very observant, was this man.

'What are we going to do?' Sybrina asked nervously.

'We're going to have a meal and enjoy each others' company,' his eyes locked with hers. 'Perhaps you will play the pianoforte for me. I believe you have a beautiful voice as well,' he grinned.

Now who's been feeding him information? Harriet!

'I don't think I want to play my lord,' she murmured.

'If you play, I'll sing,' he offered.

He had an endearing baritone voice. She could just imagine herself sitting at the piano, him sitting next to her. Their shoulders brushing. His lips so close to her cheek. Her lips so close to that irresistible scar__. Uneasily her eyes roamed over him, as he sat across from her in his carriage. His hands rested casually on his thighs. His shoulders leaned in a relaxed manner against the backrest of the seat. He looked lazily across at her, his eyes half closed, but she was sure he was still able to watch her like a hawk. Sybrina swallowed nervously, and dragged her eyes away to stare out the window.

'So you've lived a long time at the orphanage?' he enquired a little later, when she thought he was possibly falling asleep.

'No, just less than a year,' Sybrina breathed heavily.

'You're an orphan?' his voice was soft, compassionate.

'Are you going to enter your powerful greys in the Circus Maximus chariot race my lord?'

He smiled, intrigued at her artful dodging of his question.

What are you hiding madam. That you're a poorly maiden from the wrong side of the track? Oddly your social and economic circumstances don't bother me, though it should.

'Do you think I should enter?' he drawled. 'My greys are powerful Arabian race horses. They would have an unfair advantage.'

'Rules should not disqualify one, because of __ prowess,' her eyes met his.

Is she referring to my horses or me? Could she be flirting with me?

'I'm looking forward to the opportunity then,' he responded right back. Whatever her innuendo insinuated.

It was just as well the chariot stopped, and his footman was there to assist them out, for she did not have a smart come back for him. Sybrina inhaled deeply, not feeling confident to do battle with the dowager if she arrived back. She would certainly not approve of her being there unchaperoned. She would most certainly make her objections felt about the likes of someone from the orphanage presuming to attract the attention of her heir, more to Sybrina's point a rake! Frighteningly a rake, that seemed to make her feel and desire what a maiden should not.

Sybrina was led straight to a private dining parlour that had already been set for two. The room was cozy, with the midday sun streaming in from the huge windows. The room was artfully decorated, displaying the Earl's wealth. Expensive velvet curtains. Comfortable Persian carpets. Teakwood furniture that glowed as if somebody had been polishing it for hours. Sybrina stood at the foot of the table nervously. She felt the Earl's overpowering presence behind her. Her fingers pressed tightly onto the back of the chair. Every nerve in her body felt taut like the strings of a bow. Should she sit? Should she stand? A lady waited for a gentleman to draw a chair for her.

'May I?' The Earl drew huskily from behind her. His hands clasped over hers on the chair, instead of moving the chair like he should have.

Sybrina knew she should have pulled her hands out the way. She knew she should have answered in the affirmative, when he offered to seat her, but she stood there motionless. Her eyes shut, she felt his body heat deflect onto her. His gentle breath caressed against her earlobe. A mixture of his exclusive cologne and his body scent tinged her nostrils. Aware of the footman standing discreetly somewhere behind the Earl, Sybrina summoned some self control.

'Yes, thank you,' she whispered.

When she was seated, the footman appeared with a tray and a bottle of wine at the Earl's chair. He accepted the glass, with his eyes on her. Still looking at her, he lifted it to his lips, tasted the wine and nodded. Sybrina gulped from the glass when it was offered to her. Again she noted, the wine was magnificent. Or was it that her parched throat was grateful for the relief the wine provided.

'The wine is truly splendid Lord Chauncey,' she complimented.

'I'm glad you approve. It's from my own cellar,' he boasted.

Their first course was served. Sybrina thought it may have been cream of tomato soup. She did not know. She kept feeding the spoon to her mouth, but her eyes kept straying to the Earl across the table. The presence of the footman precluded the conversation from getting personal. She vaguely remembered the Earl engage her about books, art, music. She hoped she'd answered intelligently. Even through the delicious main course of duck with apricots, sirloin and vegetables that tasted so crisp and delicious, she could hardly remember what the conversation entailed. Only that every time she raised her eyes, his was on her, and she'd quickly look away. Sybrina did not know if she should relax or have reason to be more nervous, when the footman cleared their plates, before serving dessert. The Earl had requested that to be served at the cushioned seats that seemed more private and where a large table did not separate them. She studied the display of fruit, cheese, biscuits and coffee that the footman had laid out before he departed.

Could she maintain her composure of sharing a seat with the Earl? Her attention span was nought. Her nerves were in tatters. As much as she knew that the polite society would frown upon her behaviour, secretly she knew she was enjoying herself. He was courteous, charming, good company, offered scintillating conversation, the parts she could remember. She also liked the edge, the adrenalin rush being with him afforded.

'Would you like to play?' he murmured, sliding next to her on the seat.

'No,' she whispered, unable to drag her eyes away from his.

'What would you like to do?' his husky voice enhanced the dark desire she saw in his eyes.

'I would__' Sybrina bit on her lower lip. Her pink tongue reached out, and slowly traced over her upper lip.

'God's teeth, Sybrina! Do you know what you're doing to me?' He groaned. His palm reached out and cupped her face.

'No my lord,' her innocent response could not belie the searing heat her body felt.

'You are so beautiful,' his thumb brushed her cheek, as his head drew closer to her.

Sybrina waited with baited breath. She did not know what she should do, but she wanted his lips on hers. She leaned closer, lifting her head, and his lips brushed hers.

Sybrina groaned when she felt his soft lips touch hers. He moved his lips over hers. She could smell the wine that they'd just enjoyed at the table. Her body screamed for more of his possession. What should she do? Her hand reached up and touched his shoulder. The Earl pressed his mouth closer over hers. Just softly teasing her lips with his. She loved what he was doing, and involuntarily her lips parted. He groaned pulling her to him. His tongue snaked out, caressing her lips. Sybrina wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him closer. 'Sybrina,' his lips crushed hers, his tongue pushed into her mouth. She gasped. Was he supposed to do that? Should she allow it? Oh yes, this was like being in heaven. She could not stop if she wanted to, not even for propriety's sake.

She kissed him back, opening her mouth, allowing his tongue into her mouth. Experimenting with her own tongue, entwining with his, enjoying that it drove him wild.

She knew it did. For he pulled her closer, his hands raked up and down her body. He was calling her name. Whispering sweet words of endearment. His hands untied her hair, until they were free to glide through her thick mane of hair.

'My Lord,' she groaned pulling him closer. Boldly a finger reached out and touched that scar, like she'd wanted to do from the first moment she'd laid eyes on him. He inhaled heavily as her fingers softly caressed his face. His mouth covered hers again, then slowly traced a path down her neck. Her voice complained when his lips left hers for too long, to plant soft kisses on her throat. He didn't disappoint her, swiftly bringing his lips back, plundering her mouth. Instead of his action cautioning her that she should stop, that only excited her more making her press her body against his chest.

She gasped at the arousal she felt when her breasts pressed against his jacket. Her bruised nipples ached so much, she wanted his mouth to kiss it better.

What is this wanton behaviour?

That did not stop her though, she moaned and groaned her pleasure crying out to him, 'My lord please__.'

'Call my name,' he demanded.

'W_what?' she whispered.

'Alexander. Call me Alexander,' he instructed.

No. What if he remembers the way I called his name at the ball?

Sybrina pulled away, and reluctantly drew her hands away from around his neck.

'I think you should take me home, my lord,'

'What!' he stared at her face.

She had to be joking. Two seconds ago she was begging for his love. Her eyes were blazing with desire. His eyes dropped to her rosy lips, they were swollen from his kisses. His hands were still on her waist. Experimentally, he slid his hands up close to her breast, his thumb was doing erotic things to her.

'My lord please don't,' she begged unconvincingly.

The door opened, the footman coughed discreetly.

'Yes?' Alexander questioned, barely hiding his annoyance.

'The Countess requests the pleasure of your company my lord.'

'I__I thought you said she was not here,' Sybrina jumped away from him.

'She must have just returned__'

Alexander dear, I need you to __,' the dowager stopped in mid sentence, as her eyes glared at Sybrina, summing up the situation accurately.

All Sybrina could do was lower her head until she could call back some sanity, then she stood to her feet with difficulty.

'Countess,' she murmured, 'good afternoon.'

'Her eyes were glacial. Her face was cold and unwelcoming, but etiquette demanded she respond to Sybrina.

'Ms. Trevick is it? I don't see your chaperone,' the dowager charged, looking pointedly around the room.

'Mamma, you were saying?' the Earl took charge.

'Lady Tessa took ill at the bridge game. I need you to escort her home,' she smiled glacially at Sybrina.

'I will discharge the head footman.'

'She's not in good health. He may not know how to deal__.'

'I will return with your grooms my lord,' Sybrina offered, wanting to escape the dowager.

'Yes, I think that suits,' the dowager smiled victoriously.

'Are you sure madam?' Alexander placed his palm on her hand. None too happy about her suggestion.

So she was back to madam.

'I'm sure she will be quiet all right. Do hurry Alexander,' his mother instructed, barely hiding her irritation.

The Earl looked at Sybrina for a long time, and reluctantly nodded. All right, I'll be in touch madam. I'll just have a word with my butler.'

'Thank you my lord,' she smiled and quickly looked away.

The Earl left. Sybrina could feel the icy atmosphere. It penetrated to her bones, making her feel the chill as if it was a cold night in winter.

Sybrina avoided looking at the dowager who continued to stare at her in disgust. She cringed inwardly when her eyes caught the contents on the table. Their coffee stood there ice cold and untouched as were the tray of eats.

'Would you bring a fresh pot of tea?' The Countess instructed the footman.

'Do sit down,' the dowager instructed Sybrina.

'Perhaps Lord Chauncey has already arranged the carriage__'

'It will leave when you're ready,' her toned brooked no argument.

'Yes, Countess,' Sybrina reluctantly took a seat.

'Ms. Trevick you look like you've been positively ravished,' the countess turned her nose distastefully.

Sybrina squirmed in embarrassment.

'It is most unbecoming that you are alone with a gentleman,' she spat out.

Sybrina silently agreed, thinking about the way she'd disgracefully pressed her body into the Earl's, unable to curb her wanton desire.

'You can perish any thought of trying to entrap the Earl into making an offer for you__.'

'No__ my lady. I have no such desire.'

'You don't? That's what they all say,' she decried.

'I assure you I have no desire to be wed to the Earl,' Sybrina spoke convincingly.

Something in Sybrina's eyes caught the countess's attention. For she spoke these words.

'That's good, because I expect a lady with a good dowry to become the Lady Cavendish, she looked down at Sybrina, clearly discounting her as a candidate for that role.

'Indeed!' Sybrina raised her chin and met the dowager's challenging stare.

'If you will excuse me countess,' Sybrina had had enough.

'I can see the reason my Alexander finds himself attracted to you.'

What? He doesn't. You're wrong.

'I assure you, you are mistaken,' Sybrina hurriedly spoke.

'He's never had an eye for docile maidens,' she smiled as she fondly thought about her son. 'No he likes them beautiful and with a fiery spirit. And you have them in spades. Don't you Ms. Trevick?'

Sybrina shook her head as if she was in disagreement.

'I don't care for your confidence, or intelligence and misplaced independence. You will never become the Countess of Cavendish castle,' she seethed. 'I will not allow it. He will marry a lady. Not some__some gold digger from an orphanage.'

'Have a pleasant day Countess. I shall see myself out,' Sybrina lifted her shoulders and with all the dignity she could muster, gracefully exited.

How dare she judge me that way?

Sybrina was livid as she paced around in her bed chamber. How dare the countess accuse Sybrina of wanting to trap the Earl into marriage? How dare she think so lowly of Sybrina.

You don't know me countess. I have no desire for marriage. I have no desire to become a door mat to any man.

So the dowager thought her son was attracted to Sybrina. Was he? Could he be?

She also unwittingly paid Sybrina a few compliments. She described her as beautiful, confident, intelligent. She knew she was confident. She got that from her amazing ability to succeed in whatever she put her hand to. She knew she was knowledgeable and well read on all matter of subjects. So she supposed she was intelligent, but beautiful? Nobody had ever told her she was beautiful. Certainly not her father, and she never knew another man. She'd never been with a man previously. Lord Chauncey was the only man to have dared to kiss her and to make her feel things. Things she secretly enjoyed and things she wanted him to do to her again.