"Err...um..." Lord Patrick cleared his throat.

"Yes?" Amy enquired, gazing up at him with big, curious, innocent eyes. "You were saying?"

Lord Patrick's gaze flitted between Flo, Jo, Grace, Leona, Aggie, and the homicidal rabbit with big, fluffy ears. "Ehem, well..."

"Yes?" she urged. "Do go on. I'm all ears." She pointed to Throatripper. "And even if I weren't, I have help."

Lord Patrick's noble eyebrow twitched.

Wicked, scheming, impudent little...

...incredibly smart and beautiful woman.

Dang! Curse his good breeding and education! Why couldn't he even lie to himself?

But it really was undeniable. Here he was, ready to challenge the woman and get his revenge—and she pulled out five underage children and a cute rabbit as meat shields. Wicked. Devious. Even evil. But, no doubt, the smartest and most effective plan he had ever seen.

"Aye," Jo piped up, gazing up at him with the most dangerous set of puppy-dog eyes ever seen in jolly old England. "What did ye wanna tell us?"

"Um..." I wanted to grab this bloody woman right next to you and pound her into the ground? No, that probably wouldn't go over well. Subject change time! Urgent! Subject change time! "Let's not talk about that for the moment. I would be far more interested to hear why you are all here." He sent a piercing stare at Amy. "Is there any particular reason for that?"

"Oh, of course there is!" The feisty wench beamed up at him, as if she could hear no evil, see no evil, think no evil. "You remember that your mother was kind enough to offer me her tutelage in becoming a well-behaved lady, don't you? Well, I thought such lessons would also be enormously beneficial for others besides myself." She hugged the five twerps to her like a mother hen would her chicks. They looked so much like a happy little family. Patrick felt a tug in his heart, and instinctively wanted to step forward to join—

No! No, don't you dare fall for her evil schemes!

"So?" he squeezed out, trying to ignore the strange ache in his heart that for some reason refused to go away despite the fact that Miss Amy Weston was evil incarnate.

"So, naturally, I invited these lovely little ladies—" She gave the girls another squeeze. "—over to share your mother's wisdom. Why, did you think there might have been some other reason for their presence?"

Patrick clenched and unclenched his fists.

Breathe, he told himself. Breathe. It is not gentlemanly to deck a damsel in front of five underage children. That would probably not fall under "sparring".

Plus, he still felt the urge to join the group hug. Darn it!

"That's so kind of you," he told her with the fakest smile since the invention of counterfeits. "Especially since my house isn't the best place for children right now. Some animal seems to have left its...business in the garden."

"Oh dear! Not a mole, I hope? I hear they can ruin a nice lawn quite easily."

"No." Leaning forward, he stared straight into her eyes. "I suspect something more along the lines of a mischievous green-eyed feline."

"You don't say?" A smile tugged at the corners of Amy's mouth. Why oh why did that smile have to be so beautiful? Focus, Patrick. Focus. Remember the mountain of feces in the garden. Such a thing should be rather hard to forget. "We shall have to investigate later. Now, why don't you tell us why you have graced us with your presence, Your Lordship?"

"Why don't you send the children out into the garden?" he suggested, doing his best to keep his voice calm. "Then I can explain it fully and completely."

"All right."

Lord Patrick blinked. Surely he'd just misheard, right?

"What?"

"I said all right."

"Just like that?"

"Of course." Beaming, she patted the girls on their heads. "Girls, why don't you run along? The two of us have something to discuss which is only for adults."

"Something that requires a bed, some rope and a blindfold?" Flo enquired with a perfectly innocent face.

"Out! Out, all of you!" Making a shooing motion, Amy pushed the five of them in the direction of the French windows that led to the garden. With an evil cackle Flo and and her wicked little minions ran outside, probably to set a bush on fire or steal the gilded fountain or something. Lord Patrick sincerely hoped his mother had the silverware locked away and the safe well hidden. "And don't come back before I call you!"

The glass doors closed behind them, cutting off the sound of maniacal giggling. Amy simply stood there for a moment with her back to him. Lord Patrick watched her elegant silhouette outlined against the bright window with hawk-like intensity.

"What now, Miss Amy?"

"Now?" She turned around, grinning like an alley cat. "Now I can finally stop talkin' like some posh twit! Thank God! I didn't think I could 'ave kept dat up for another bloody minute!"

"Well, I'm glad you are so happy," he told her, flexing his fingers. "Because I don't think it will last long."

"Oh, ye don't, do ye?"

"Oh yes." The tension between them was almost tangible, electricity crackling in an arc between them. He was intensely aware of the way her figure was hugged by the beautiful new dress his thrice dratted mother had insisted on having made for her. As if she wasn't distracting enough already! "Oh yes, Miss Amy. You really shouldn't have sent your guard detail outside. I think it is time for the two of us to settle our accounts, don't you? Why don't we have another sparring session?"

Amy's emerald eyes twinkled. "I could always call da girls back in, ye know? Or better yet, some of yer mother's servants. I'm sure they'd love to see a brute of a man punch a poor, defenseless damsel, and wouldn't at all report it to Her Ladyship."

Lord Patrick simply stood there for a moment, stewing in his own anger. In his humble opinion as an experienced gourmet, it was not the best stew he had ever tasted.

But she was right, darn it! He was unable to touch her! He was unable to get his revenge!

Suddenly, he halted in mid-thought.

Unable to touch her? Well...not quite.

A wicked grin spread over his face. Then, before he could think better of it, he leapt forward and, enveloping her in a tight embrace, pressed his lips to hers in a fiery kiss.

***

"Mmmeeep!"

Amy was pretty sure the squeal that escaped her lips was rather unladylike. But right now, she didn't bloody care! Her lips were far too occupied with the ones that were currently pressing against hers. How...when...why?

"Well?" The raspy voice of a certain lord reached her ears. "You wanted to call the girls back in, didn't you? You wanted the servants to report my revenge to Her Ladyship. Go ahead, why don't you?"

That sneaky son of a...!

She was going to get back at him for this. She definitely was! That is, as soon as she could pry herself away from his embrace, and call her brain back from wherever it seemed to have wandered off to.

"Hmm..." A low rumble came from the chest of the man who was still holding her in his arms. The lord who was holding her in his arms. "I am beginning to understand why my mother chose you as my bride-to-be."

Colour rushed to Amy's cheeks. Don't let 'im get ta ye, Amy! Don't let him bloody get ta ye! 'e's just playin' with ye!

Well...maybe she wanted to play with him a little, too. Maybe, just for the moment, she wanted to pretend that this was real, that she was really being held by a man who cared for her.

There would always be enough time later to dump another pile of crap in his garden.

"Come here!" he growled. Capturing the back of her head in an unbreakable grip, he pulled her closer until their two bodies were tightly mashed together. Amy could feel every ridge and crevice of his muscles, could sense every hot breath of his on her face. "It's time for you to receive your punishment!"

A moan rose from Amy's throat. The voice in the back of her head that told her that this wasn't real, that he was just playing with her, grew smaller and smaller, until it disappeared altogether.

The voice that told her to dump more crap in his garden was still there, though.

Amy grinned. He wanted to play with her?

Well, two can play dat game, mate!

Right then, he tensed, as if sensing her smile. Not unlikely, considering her lips were still being devoured by his.

"What are you up to, Miss Amy?" he demanded.

"Up?" She blinked at him innocently. "Nothing. But something else might soon be."

Then Amy reached down, caressing his thigh, all the way up to his...

"Ah!"

Amy grinned.

Let's see 'ow ye like it when I turn da tables, shall we?

He had kissed her in the knowledge she would never call anyone in, never tell his mother, because that would only make the dowager duchess ecstatic and all the more determined to push for the madness that would be a marriage between the two of them. But there was one little problem with this revenge plan of his: he'd never had the ruthlessness, or the lack of morals, to go all the way. He was a true gentleman.

She, on the other hand...

Amy's grin widened.

Being bad is so good.

"So this is what you want?" she cooed into his ear. "To seduce me, and be caught by your mother's maids? My, my, Lord Patrick Day. I never knew you were such a voyeur."

She could practically feel the heat rushing into his face. "N-no! That's not what I meant at all! I would never—"

Amy had to fight hard to not break out into an evil cackle. A true gentleman indeed!

"Oh, I see." She nodded wisely, standing on her tiptoes to nibble on his ear. "So, it's da secrecy of da thing dat does it for ye? Knowing dat, even if it's unlikely, any moment someone could come in and catch us in da act?"

"N-no! And stop eating my ear!"

"Are ye sure about dat?" Amy whispered, continuing to nibble and tease. "Are ye really sure?"

"Nnngaaah...!"

"I'll take dat as a 'no', I think. Very well, den. Let's get down ta business, shall we?"

In a blink, she had hooked one foot behind His Lordship's leg. She gave it a hard tug, and the next moment, Lord Patrick fell backwards, straight onto a chaise longue conveniently placed along the wall of the hallway.

"Well now," she purred, bending down over her prey. "Time for the fun to begin."

***

Lord Patrick Day felt his heart pound like a jackhammer inside his chest and, for about the dozenth time this day, cursed himself for coming up with this idiotic plan. Trying to use seduction, of all things, as a tool against Miss Amy Weston? Really?

Just then, the lady of the night's burning lips placed a searing kiss upon his neck. His Lordship cursed again. Maybe it would help, and he would miraculously be rescued from this disaster of a situation.

Thirteenth time is the charm, right?

Another kiss was branded on his skin, sending his blood pounding through his body in a wild maelstrom.

No, apparently it isn't.

"Something the matter?" whispered the voice of his fiancée. "You seem quite stiff, Your Lordship."

No! Not fiancée! That woman is most definitely not betrothed to you, and you are absolutely not supposed to rip her clothes off and ravish her!

"N-not at all," he squeezed out between clenched teeth.

"Oh, but I think ye are." Rearing above him, she smiled down at him. Lord Patrick had never ever seen a smile like that before, and most likely wouldn't ever again, unless he went to hell to visit a succubus. "Let's try somethin' to relax ye, shall we?"

Suddenly, he felt something soft on his collarbone. Something suspiciously reminiscent of female fingers. A moment later, the top button of his shirt popped open.

"This is what you consider 'relaxing'?" he managed.

"Well, I can guarantee ye dat ye'll be very relaxed once I'm done." He saw her smirk, then felt her hand trail down past his pectorals, over his abdomen and into the forbidden zone English gentlemen were prohibited from mentioning out loud. "Or at least a certain part of ye will."

He couldn't help it. His body jerked, instinctively arching upward under her touch. "Stop this! This...this isn't something we should be doing! Especially not here, not now!"

"Oh?" Caressing his cheek, Amy placed a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth. "You want to wait until after the wedding? That's so sweet!"

Why had he considered it a good idea again to tangle with this woman? He probably could have infiltrated the East End and freed hundreds of kidnapped children from vicious, murderous gangs all by himself. Even if it probably would have cost him his right arm, it would have been worth it.

"That," he growled, "is not what I was referring to! I am not in the habit of conducting illicit affairs in the hallway of my mother's townhouse!"

"You aren't?"

Blast her for sounding so surprised!

"No, I am not!"

"Well then..." The smirk above him was far too enchanting for his continued health. "Let's forget about 'abits, den. Time ta try out something new."

Something new? He snorted. As if, after everything she'd done, there was anything left with which she could surprise him. What could she possibly do that might—

That was when her exploratory fingers reached his backside, poking and prodding.

What the...!

She couldn't possibly...!

Poke!

That was it. Lord Patrick cracked.

Grabbing hold of Amy's shoulders in an iron grip, he tore her off her feet, whirling the two of them around and slamming her into the plush chaise longue. His eyes burned down at her with the ferocity of a gentleman who knew exactly what she was going to do and wished he could bleach his mind.

"You...you...!"

"Aye?" Innocently, Amy batted her eyelashes up at him.

Lord Patrick's eyes narrowed, his jaw set in sudden determination. "You were right. It is time to try out something new. You wanted some seduction? Well...then you'll get it!"

He plunged down towards her.

--------------------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

A little belatedly, summer has arrived in my neighborhood. I'm currently seeking shelter in the cellar from the sweltering heat. I hope things are more pleasant at your place of residence :)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob