Page 41 of A Potion for Passion

She shivered, dragged her hand away, and said in a shaky voice, “No, Lawrence. We must stop.”

“Why? Don’t tell me you don’t want me.” He dipped his head and nipped at one erect nipple through the thin stuff of her nightgown. “I can tell you do.”

Desire arrowed straight to her womb.

No, he had too much power. Power that would make her a mere plaything in his hands. Power to break her heart. “Please, stop,” she said on a gasp. “You’re going too fast for me.”

“I can slow down,” he offered, tracing his thumb over the other nipple. “And if your reluctance is from fear, don’t worry. I can avoid getting you with child.”

She drew in a shaky breath and thought again about the unfinished bonnet. It held a hatpin that would dampen his ardor if he refused to take no for an answer. She’d never stabbed a man before, but there was a first time for everything.

No, she was not frightened of an unwanted child. For it would not be unwanted.

The only thing that really frightened her was that her emotions were already too deep to salvage. “That’s not it,” she said. “And, yes, I do want you. I can’t hide that fact. But not here, not now. Not like this.”

His roving finger stilled and he took in a ragged breath. A muscle worked in his jaw. His eyes looked as hard and black as obsidian as he said, “I’m glad to hear you admit your desire, Madame Julietta. And I’ll take it as a promise. One day, you will be mine. Please don’t keep me waiting too long.”

He thrust himself off the bed and stalked to the door.

“Are you angry with me?” she asked, sitting up.

“No. I’m angry at myself. We both meant to keep our relationship strictly that of master and apprentice. I nearly destroyed that just now. I’m so sorry.”

Although it pained her to admit it, he was right. Only a few days of her planned sojourn remained, and she couldn’t bear it if awkwardness suddenly sprang up between them. “Are we still friends?” she asked in a small voice.

He turned to her, and his eyes seemed to flay the very flesh from her bones. The shock of desire burst over her once again. Was it too late to change her mind and sample the delights this man undoubtedly could bestow?

“Yes, we’re still friends,” he said solemnly. “But never forget, Miss Flora Hartington, we have unfinished business, you and I, and one day I will come to you and finish it.”