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“I—I chose some fabric for drapings, and worked with the carpenter on some platforms. The invitations came in today. I approved them.”
    “Good, we’re on schedule.”
    “When are you leaving?”
    “First thing in the morning. I’ll be back in a week or so. And I’ll keep in touch.” Because he could feel her begin to relax, he played with her hair. “You might want to see if Andrew will move back in so you’re not alone.”
    “I don’t mind being alone.”
    “I mind.” He picked her up, slid into the chair, and settled her on his lap. Since she wasn’t going to drink it, he took the glass of wine out of her hand and set it aside. “But since he’s not here at the moment . . .” He cupped the back of her neck and brought her mouth to his.
    He’d meant to leave it at that, a kiss, a nuzzle, a quiet moment. But the taste of her was warmer than he’d expected. The morning-in-the-woods scent of her skin more provocative than it should have been. He found himself nipping his teeth into that soft lower lip, licking at the little ache as she shivered once.
    And when her arms tightened around him and her mouth moved urgently under his, he lost himself, slipped into her, surrounded himself with her.
    Curves, lines, scent, flavors.
    His busy hands unfastened the buttons of her blouse, skimmed under to bare those shoulders, to trace hypnotically over the swell of her breasts.
    Sighs, moans, shudders.
    “I can’t get enough of you.” His words were more irritated than pleased. “I always think I have, then I only have to see you to want you.”
    And no one had ever wanted her like this. She felt herself falling, deep, deeper, into the rippling warm waters of a wide well of sensation. Just feelings, no thoughts, no reason. Just needs, basic as breath.
    His fingers played over her breasts, silky bird wings of motion. His tongue followed them as he shifted her, nudging her up until his mouth could close hotly over her so that the echoing tug low in her belly mirrored the aches. He caught her nipple in his teeth, a light bite, a small exquisite pain.
    Willing, eager, she arched back, giving herself to him, to the moment, delighting in his single focus.
    To feed on her.
    Just as intent, she took her hands over him, stroking, sliding, seeking, finding her way under his shirt to flesh. Sampling that flesh and feeding herself as they rolled from the chair to the rug.
    Her legs parted, trapping him in that erotic V, her hips arched so that heat pressed against heat, each movement tormenting them both.
    He needed to be in her, to fill her, to bury himself in her. The primal need to possess, to be possessed, had them both grappling with clothes, gasping for air as they tumbled over the floor.
    Then she was astride him, her body bent forward, her palms pressed to his chest so their mouths could tangle again. Slowly, slowly, he lifted her hips. Their eyes locked, both dark and glazed. Finally, finally, she lowered herself to him, took him in, held him there with muscles clamped and trembling.
    Then she rode, body arched back, hair flowing like wild red rain over her shoulders, her eyes narrowed to slits as pleasure overwhelmed. Speed ruled now. Here was energy, electric waves of power that swam into the blood, whipped at the heart, fueled the body to bursting.
    Faster, harder, deeper, with his fingers digging desperately into her hips, her breath expelling in harsh sobs. The orgasm lanced through her, the desperate edge of it racking her, wrecking her.
    Still he drove into her, his grip locking her to him as he pushed her higher with strong, steady thrusts.
    A roaring filled her head, like a sea warring with a gale, and the next wave was scorching, tossing her up on one long, hot sweep.
    She thought she heard someone scream.
    And he saw her, in that mindless moment, hair tumbled, body arched, arms lifted, her eyes half closed, her lips curved in a smile of sly female awareness.
    She was as priceless, as alluring and magnificent as The Dark Lady, and just as powerful. As his own release burst through him, he had one clear thought.
    Here was his destiny.
    Then his mind was wiped clean as the same wave caught him and flipped him over the edge.
    “Good God.” It was the best he could do. Never before had he lost himself so utterly in a woman or felt so bound to one. Though she still shuddered, she seemed to melt onto him, her body sliding down until her gasps were muffled against his throat.
    “Miranda.” He