Adrian paced the length of his bedchamber, his mind racing and his body thrumming with restless energy. Sleep was a distant prospect, kept away by the memory of Olivia's face, the feel of her in his arms as they danced, the heat of her gaze as she stared at him from across the room.

As if that wasn't enough, seeing her again had brought back the images of their time together on his ship. The way she'd looked in the golden glow of the lantern light, the soft sighs that had escaped her lips as he'd trailed kisses down her neck, the perfect fit of her body against his own. He groaned. This would not do.

He had tried to forget her. Tried to push away the pain of her abandonment and focus on the life he'd built himself on the sea. But it had not been the same. The nights had been lonely, her absence in his bed too obvious. How had he got used to her so quickly? He'd spent years alone in his cabin, and a few mere weeks sharing it with Olivia, and he never wanted to sleep alone again.

In the first few weeks after she left, he'd thrown himself into his work, spending long hours with Hawkins planning their routes and dealing with the daily tasks of running the ship. He'd foolishly thought that if he could just keep his mind occupied, if he could fill every waking moment with duty and distraction, he could forget the feel of Olivia in his arms, the taste of her on his lips.

It had been a futile endeavour.

She haunted his dreams. She haunted his every waking moment. Everywhere he turned, he saw reminders of her—in the empty space beside him in bed, in the chess board in the day cabin, in the lingering scent of her rose water on his pillow.

He'd even considered seeking solace in the arms of other women, losing himself in the fleeting comfort of a warm body and a soft touch. As a former rake, he was not a stranger to such things, but the thought had filled him with revulsion. It just felt...wrong. Like it was a betrayal, a cheap and tawdry attempt to replace something irreplaceable.

Because that's what Olivia was. Irreplaceable.

She had captured his heart and his soul in a way that no one else ever had. Not even Catherine had left him feeling this...bereft. This betrayed. Because he had thought Olivia was different. But she'd left him too. Chasing after another man...one who might not even care for her.

Somehow, that stung even more.

And yet, he couldn't forget about her. So here he was, like a bloody fool. Back in England. In Tilbury. At a bloody week-long house party. All just to see her again, and...what? Win her back? Punish her? Get a final answer to why exactly she left?

He wasn't sure. Just knew he couldn't leave things the way they were. If nothing else, she owed him an explanation. A proper goodbye.

But if seeing her tonight had proved anything, it was that she was as stubborn as ever. And that he still wanted her. Craved her. The months apart had done nothing to dull the desire that pulsed through his veins, the need to feel her, taste her, lose himself in her.

Bloody hell.

With a growl of frustration, he tugged at his cravat, the silk suddenly suffocating. He needed air, needed space to clear his head, to regain some semblance of control over the rioting emotions that threatened to consume him.

He needed a distraction. Anything. Putting his shoes back on, he slipped out into the darkened hallway. The house was silent, the guests long since retired to their rooms, and he relished the quiet. If he remembered correctly, there was a sizeable library downstairs. Perhaps a book would help his mind settle. Something to distract his mind from thoughts of Olivia.

As he entered the room moments later, the scent of leather and parchment enveloped him, the familiar smell soothing. He's always enjoyed reading, even as a child. Escaping into the adventures of others until he was old enough to create his own. The library was large with tall bookcases reaching toward the ceiling. Books filled every shelf, their spines glinting in the flickering light. Shadows pooled in the corners, the darkness broken only by the dying embers in the grate, casting a warm, intimate glow over the room.

But he was not alone. There, illuminated by the dancing flames, was Olivia, her slender form draped in a dressing gown of the palest green, her dark hair cascading down her back in a riot of curls.

For a moment, he simply stared, drinking in the sight of her. She looked soft and rumpled, her guard lowered in the dark of the night. His fingers itched to reach out, to trail over the delicate curve of her cheek, to bury themselves in the silk of her hair.

But then she turned, her eyes widening as she caught sight of him, and the spell was broken. Her spine straightened, her chin lifting in that familiar gesture of defiance, and he felt his own defences snap back into place, the anger and hurt rushing back in a bitter flood.

"Lord Warble," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "I didn't expect to find anyone else awake at this hour."

He stepped further into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him with a soft click. The sound was unnaturally loud in the hushed stillness of the library, a reminder of the intimacy of their surroundings.

"Nor I, Miss Newton. But then, you seem to have a habit of appearing where you're least expected."

Her eyes flashed, her fingers tightening around the book in her hands. He could see the pulse fluttering wildly at the base of her throat and could hear the hitch in her breathing. "If my presence here offends you, I can easily take my leave."

"And run away again?" The words were out before he could stop them, the bitterness and accusation dripping from every syllable. "How true to form."

She flinched, and he could have sworn there was a flicker of pain darting across her face before she masked it with a cool glare. "That's unfair. But what I do and where I go is none of your concern."

"Unfair?" He laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound that echoed off the shelves. "You left me, Olivia. Left me without a word. Without a backward glance. Like I meant nothing to you."

"That's not..." She shook her head, her grip on the book so tight he thought it might break. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?" He advanced on her, his blood thrumming as anger and desire mixed, twisting his gut in knots. He could feel the heat of her, could catch the faint scent of rosewater that always clung to her skin. "Tell me, Olivia. Make me understand why you ran. Why you chose him over me."

Her eyes met his, wide and dark in the flickering light, and he wished he could read them. Wished he could decipher the emotions swirling in their depths. "I didn't...I never meant to hurt you."

"But you did." The words were rawer than he intended, admitting to more than he had meant to. "Do you have any idea what you did to me? How it felt to return to my cabin to find you gone? To realise that everything we shared, everything I thought we had, meant nothing to you?"

"No, I..." She shook her head, her dark hair dancing around her face. "Adrian... It didn't mean nothing."

Closing the distance between them, he lifted his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing over the velvet softness of her lower lip. He could feel her tremble at his touch, could see the flare of heat in her eyes before she shuttered it away. "Then why did you leave?"

"I was scared." Her voice cracked on the last word. "Scared of what I felt for you...of how much I wanted you. It was too much. Too intense. I couldn't... I didn't know how to handle it."

"So you ran." His other hand found the curve of her waist, pulling her closer. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through him, his body instantly remembering the feel of her. "Ran back to your safe, comfortable life, to the man who's never really seen you. Never truly known you."

"Dash isn't...it's not like that." But there was a note of uncertainty in her voice, a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

"Isn't it?" He leaned in, his lips a whisper from hers. He could feel the pounding of her heart—or was it his?—and could almost taste her. "Tell me, Olivia, when he touches you, does it feel like this? When he kisses you, does it set your soul on fire?"

Her breath hitched and her eyes fluttered close. "Adrian..."

His name was a plea on her lips, an entreaty and a prayer all in one. It undid him, the last threads of his control snapping like gossamer silk. He closed the final distance between them, his mouth claiming hers in a fierce, desperate kiss.

For a moment, she froze, her body stiff and unyielding against his. But then, with a moan that set his blood on fire, she melted into him, her arms coming up to slide around his neck, her lips parting under his.

It was everything he remembered and more—the taste of her, the feel of her, the way she fit so perfectly against him. He poured all of his longing, all of his pent-up desire into the kiss, his hands roaming over her back, her hips, her hair.

But just as he was about to deepen the kiss, to lose himself completely in the intoxicating reality of her, a sudden creak sounded from beyond the library door, the unmistakable tread of footsteps in the hall.

They were not the only ones awake at this hour.

Olivia jerked away from him as if burnt, her chest heaving and her eyes wide with shock and panic. "I... I can't... We can't..."

And then she was gone. Fleeing him... once again.

He stared after her, his heart pounding, his body on fire with unspent desire. She had kissed him back. For a brief moment, she had been his again, had given herself over to the passion that burned between them.

But then, true to form, she had run. Again. Just like she had all those months ago.

The anger and frustration surged back, mingling with the bitter tang of rejection. But this time, there was something else, too. A flicker of hope, of grim determination.

She still wanted him. The kiss had proven that, had shown him that he wasn't the only one still affected by their nearness. But she was fighting it, clinging to her fear and her misplaced loyalty to a man who—by all accounts—had never truly seen her. Not the way Adrian saw her.

He would have to show her she was wrong. He would break through her defences, shatter the illusions she'd built up about herself and Dash. He would make her confront the truth of her own heart, even if it meant playing a little dirty, pushing her to her limits and beyond.

It was time for a new game. A new challenge. He would make her question everything she believed, would make her burn and ache and yearn until she had no choice but to admit that it was him she wanted--him she needed.

And if, in the process, he made her suffer just a little for the pain she'd put him through...well, that was only fair, wasn't it? After all, all was fair in love and war. And this was both.

With a grim smile, he straightened his jacket and made his way out of the library, his steps purposeful and resolute. He had a path forward now.

It was time for another round of their games. And he intended to win.

~~~~~

Author's Note: I'm sorry to say that there won't be a chapter next week. November has been a hectic month with a lot of work, and I have a deadline for 1 December that I need to hit. We should be back for our scheduled Friday chapter the following week (6 December). ♥