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An icy blast raged through the hallway as
soon as she opened the door, so strong that it pulled the heavy
wood from her hands.

She could barely see anything in the flurry
of white lashing down in front of her. The ground was already
blanketed in thick snow and it was falling heavier by the
minute.

Mariah gulped in fright, standing back to
allow a footman to bolt the door.

"Miss Bolton."

The sound of Mr. Haverton's voice had her
head whipping round to face him, a worried frown tightening her
forehead.

"Where are you going?" he asked sternly.

"I thought it was best that I should leave
now, Mr. Haverton, before the storm worsened."

He stared at her incredulously before shaking
his head.

"Tell me you are not serious. You cannot
travel in that."

"What choice do I have? I must return home.
I've already asked Fernshaw to have the gig prepared."

She drew to a halt as Mr. Haverton began
shaking his head.

"I caught up to him on his way out to the
stable. I told him what I'm telling you; there is no way you are
leaving this house in that weather."

"But, but — I — y-you can't—"Mariah
spluttered to stop, gazing at him in amazement, trying desperately
not to be distracted from her ire by the sheer force of his
magnetism, by the inexplicable and powerful pull she felt toward
him whenever he was near.

Haverton frowned at her for a moment before
his expression cleared, and he smiled pleasantly.

"An eloquent argument, Miss Bolton but my
decision remains unchanged."

Mariah rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. This
wouldn't do. She couldn't stay here all night. She just couldn't.
"Mr. Haverton, surely you understand. I cannot stay in this house
alone with a man. I will be ruined."

"I would rather you were ruined than dead,
Miss Bolton. Besides, you said yourself your mother doesn't even
know I'm here."

"Earlier today she did not know. But you said
you'd been in town searching for me. And in that case, she already
knows and is no doubt awaiting my return so she can pump me for
information and then murder me."

Mariah did not appreciate his sudden bark of
laughter one bit.

"'Tis not funny, sir. You have no idea what
she's like."

"No, nor do I want to by the sounds of it.
But I cannot allow you to travel in such weather, Miss Bolton. I
couldn't in good conscience let anyone travel in that. I especially
can't allow you to."

"Why especially me?" she demanded hotly. Was
he accusing her of being less capable than someone else?

He shook his head, smiling bemusedly and
shaking his head. But as he stepped forward, the smile fell from
his face and suddenly his eyes blazed with an unholy fire.
"Because, contrary to first impressions; I am not a monster, and I
do care for the general safety of the people I know. And I am
starting to care very much about you."

"You don't even know me," she argued
breathlessly.

Mariah thought that if she could talk him
into being sensible about whatever this was between them, then at
least one of them would be. Because she certainly wasn't going to
be.

His lips twitched as he answered her. "I know
you well enough to know that you are a constant source of
irritation, bewilderment and frustration."

Mariah frowned. That wasn't terribly
romantic. It wasn't that she
wanted
him to be romantic, of
course. But still.

"Oh, well. Sorry," she answered lamely, not
really sure what to say in the face of a list of her faults.

"You must be wondering why I care in that
case, hmm?" he asked, a sly smile on his mouth.

Maria was feeling decidedly miffed and her
ego was very much bruised.

"I don't care to know why you care," she
answered snippily, confusing even herself with the convoluted
statement and apparently amusing him greatly.

"Do you know, I thought that these weeks
leading up to Christmas would be quiet and uneventful? I couldn't
have been more wrong."

Mariah sighed and tried to calm her rising
temper.

"Really, Mr. Haverton if my presence is so
irritating and, and bewildering—"

"And frustrating," he supplied helpfully.

"And frustrating," she said with a glare,
"then I rather wonder at you insisting that I stay. I appreciate
that I'm not quiet but once again, I feel I must point out
you
sought
me
out. Not the other way around."

"Miss Bolton, please do not misunderstand.
Your presence is all of those things but that is not to say that I
do not want you here. You are irritating because you do not let me
sulk as I should like. You are bewildering because, well, you're
you."

This earned another scowl. But he ignored
it.

"And you are frustrating because whether I'm
right here beside you or on the other side of the house, or even
the other side of the village, I cannot stop thinking about doing
this."

She knew it was coming and she wanted it more
than she wanted her next breath.

As soon as his strong arms wrapped round her,
she was lost.

His kiss was just as powerful as yesterday's.
Perhaps even more so.

Two days. She had known him only two days and
had been kissed as many times by him.

She was a shameless wanton.

And she didn't care a jot.

The sound of approaching footsteps penetrated
the fog of Mariah's brain but it did not stop her from wrapping her
arms round his neck, running her fingers through his silky hair as
she had longed to do every time she saw him do it. Apparently
though, he was either a lot less affected by their kiss, or he was
infinitely more sensible than she for he gently prised her fingers
from his person and set her away from him.

Mariah felt the loss of contact and
instinctively moved toward him but he stumbled back, issuing an
oath as he went.

"Good God woman, you're as tempting as sin
itself."

Mariah smiled at his compliment and took
another step toward him but he took another back.

"Stay where you are," he bellowed, almost
making her jump out of her skin.

Why was he shouting at her? Surely he wasn't
angry.
He
had kissed
her
, after all.

"I'm sorry, I just – if you come near me I'm
not going to be able to stop and somebody is coming."

Mariah smiled again. All the longing she felt
for him just increased with his words.

"For God's sake Mariah, don't look at me like
that," he hissed and she blinked in surprise. He had used her given
name and it did funny things to her stomach to hear it on his
lips.

"Like what?"

"Like you want my hands on you as much as I
do," he said bluntly.

Good heavens. The man was going to have her
heart bursting clean out of her.

A tap on the door signalled the arrival of
Fernshaw.

"Sir," he said, his face totally
expressionless, "the room has been prepared."

"Thank you, Fernshaw," Mr. Haverton sounded
remarkably calm given what had just transpired.

Without another word, the old butler bowed
and left, rather tellingly leaving the door open behind him.

Mr. Haverton smiled wickedly. "It seems you
have a protector in Fernshaw, my dear."

"I do?"

"Leaving the door open," he explained,
nodding towards it, "no doubt to ensure that I don't attack you
where you stand."

"He should mind his own business," Mariah
grumbled unthinkingly, wanting more than anything to feel his hands
on her again.

His bark of laughter drew a rueful smile from
her own lips.

"My housekeeper Mrs. Jones doesn't arrive
until the end of next week, so in her absence I'll have one of the
maids show you to your room. I would offer to do so myself but I
don't think that's very safe," he said bluntly, eliciting a gasp of
completely inappropriate excitement from her. "Besides, I think I
need some time alone to, er, recover from our activities."

Mariah had no idea what he meant but the
mention of their "activities" was enough to heat her blood all over
again.

"Will you join me for dinner?" he asked, all
politeness.

"Well, I have to really, don't I?" she
answered in that unthinking way again.

"You flatterer, you."

She ignored him.

"My mother will be beside herself with
worry," Mariah said, secretly thrilled at the thoughts of staying
here with him but not wanting to show it.

"As soon as it is safe I will send word," he
said gently, "but nobody would expect you to travel in that."

"You haven't met my mother," Mariah
mumbled.

At that moment the maid arrived to escort
Mariah to a guest room.

"Until dinner," Haverton said, raising her
hand to his mouth to place a soft kiss on the back of it.

Mariah was suddenly overcome with a rush of
tender emotions that had no business making themselves known after
a two day acquaintance.

She nodded and fairly flew out of the room,
causing the maid to increase her pace dramatically.

The sooner Mariah was alone, the sooner she
could breathe properly.

The room to which Mariah was shown had
obviously been cleaned, but just as obviously had not been
redecorated in many years.

Though a roaring fire brought a welcome heat
to it, the paper-hangings were faded and even worn in places and
held an air of neglect.

"I am sorry, ma'am," said Dora, the maid who
was escorting her. "We weren't expecting no guests yet."

Mariah smiled at Dora and quirked a brow.
"Ma'am?" she repeated. "Dora Hall I have known you since you were a
babe. What is all this 'ma'am' nonsense?

Dora grinned and sighed in relief. "I'm just
trying to do me job properly, Miss Bolton."

"You're doing an excellent job. Just don't
call me ma'am!"

Dora laughed then sobered as she looked at
Mariah with worry etched on her face. "Your mum is going to be that
angry, Miss Bolton, when she finds out you're here alone with Mr.
Haverton."

Mariah grimaced.

"I know, but what can I do? I know Mama would
expect me to risk frostbite and certain death to get home but she
is the only person outside of Bedlam to do so."

Dora laughed, though it was hesitant. The
entire village knew better than to laugh at Mrs. Bolton.

"Would you like me to stay with you in here
tonight? As a witness, like."

"A witness? Good heaven's Dora the man is
hardly going to sneak into my bedchamber."
More's the pity.
"I shall be quite alright."

"Well, if you're sure?"

"I am. Quite sure."

"Very well, Mariah," said Dora cheerfully and
Mariah was pleased that she'd dropped the stiff formality of 'Miss
Bolton'.

"Mr. Haverton has instructed that you should
have a bath brought up and a fresh gown for dinner," Dora
continued.

"Well, that's very nice of him but where on
earth am I to get a fresh gown from?"

"Oh, the lady's trunks arrived with Mr.
Haverton, or at least some of them did. He said she would not mind
if you were to use one."

Mariah's heart skittered to a halt at Dora's
words and she felt as if her stomach had dropped to her kid
boots.

The lady?

Her mind whirled as she thought of the
ramifications of Dora's words.

But she'd asked him! He'd said he was not
married.

Mariah thought sickeningly of the letter she
had read that day Mrs. Yates had visited with the request that she
tend to the library.

Mrs. Yates had made it quite clear that he
was unattached. And he himself had
said
as much.

And yet, the letter had said 'they' and not
'he'.

"Oh, my God," Mariah whispered, not knowing
she had spoken aloud. He had lied about not being married. The cad!
What was he about? What sort of sick game was he playing with
her?

"Mariah, are you alright? You look as though
you've seen a ghost."

Dora's voice sounded very far away but Mariah
gulped in a breath of air and tried her very best to act
normally.

"Yes, j-just tired I think."

"Of course," clucked Dora, "you've been
working every so hard on that library today. A nice warm bath and a
nap before dinner should set you to rights."

The downstairs maids arrived with a copper
tub and set about filling it with pots of water.

Mariah allowed Dora and the maids to scramble
about readying her bath without saying a word.

Dora left the room to return in minutes,
holding up the finest gown Mariah had ever seen, exclaiming that
the colour would look stunning on Mariah and asking if she should
have it pressed for dinner.

Mariah nodded feeling numb and not even
really seeing the dress.

Who would own such fine gowns if not the lady
of the house?

The bath served to revive Mariah's spirits a
little and, to her surprise, she actually did fall into a fitful
sleep for an hour or two, rising quickly when Dora came to assist
her with dressing.

Mariah's first thought was to plead a
headache and refuse to go down to dinner.

But as her initial shock had abated, a
furious anger had replaced it instead.

She had done nothing wrong!

Why should she hide away while that swine
went about kissing women who weren't his wife and dragging innocent
young girls into his debauchery?

"Would you like me to do your hair, Mariah?"
asked Dora eagerly.

Mariah looked at Dora, a steely determination
making her stand stiff as a board. "Yes, I would" she said with
determination, "and I want you to make me look my absolute
best."

Mariah arrived downstairs
just
as the clock chimed the hour.

She was a bundle of nerves but was relieved
to note that her hand was steady as she waited for the footman to
open the door to the drawing room.