Ravensdale's Defiant Captive. Melanie Milburne

another pebble, even farther this time, as if all her pent up energy went into the throw. ‘I suppose no one without a university degree with honours need apply. So what do you talk about in bed? Quantum physics? Einstein’s theory of relativity?’

      He looked down at her upturned face with its mocking smile and impossibly cute dimples. What was it about her that made him feel this was all a front? He was all too familiar with theatrical talent. His parents were some of the best in the theatre. Even he had to acknowledge that. But this defiant tearaway was putting on an award-winning performance. ‘Why don’t you want the room Sophia prepared for you?’ he asked.

      Her eyes lost their cheeky sparkle and her expression became sulky again. ‘I don’t want to be shoved at the top of your grand old house like some freak you want to hide in case she does the wrong thing in front of your fancy guests. I suppose you’ll insist on me taking my meals in there or with the servants in the kitchen.’

      ‘I don’t have servants,’ Julius said. ‘I have staff. And, yes, they make their own arrangements over dining but that’s more out of convenience than convention.’ He paused for a beat before adding. ‘I expect you to dine with me each evening.’ Are you out of your mind? The less time you spend with her the better.

      ‘Why?’ she said with a surly look. ‘So you can criticise me when I use the wrong fork or knife?’

      ‘Why do you think everyone you meet is automatically against you?’

      She turned and looked at the lake rather than meet his gaze. He could see the flicker of a tiny muscle in her cheek as if she was grinding down on her molars. It was a while before she spoke and when she did it was with a voice that was pitched slightly lower than normal with a distinctly husky edge. ‘I don’t want that room.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘It’s...too posh.’

      ‘Fine,’ Julius said, mentally rolling his eyes. ‘You can choose your own room. God knows there are plenty to choose from.’

      ‘Thank you.’ It was not much more than a whisper of sound and she still wasn’t looking at him but there was something in her posture that suggested enormous relief. Her shoulders had lost their tense, bunched-up-to-her-ears look. Her spine was no longer ramrod straight. Her hands were not curled into tight fists or clutching pebbles but hanging loosely by her sides.

      He had a strong urge to reach out, take one of her hands and give it a reassuring squeeze but somehow refrained from doing so. Just. ‘Do you want to walk back with me or hang around down here for a little bit?’ he said.

      She turned her head to look at him. ‘Aren’t you worried I might run away when your back is turned?’

      He studied her for a moment, taking in her shuttered gaze and the pouty set to her mouth. ‘You’d be running towards prison if you do. Hardly something to look forward to, is it?’

      She bit down on her lower lip and turned to look at a water bird that had flown in to land in the centre of the lake, its paddling feet sending out concentric circles of disturbance. He watched as a slight breeze played with some loose tendrils of her hair and she absently brushed them back with one of her hands. His chest gave a sharp little squeeze when he saw her hand was shaking. There was no sign of the tough, angry girl. No sign of the brash guttersnipe. Right then she looked like your average girl next door who had suddenly found herself at an anxiety-inducing crossroads.

      Julius bent down, picked up a pebble and handed it to her. ‘My brother Jake holds the record down here. Seventeen skips.’

      She took the pebble from him but as her fingers touched his he felt an electric shock run up along his arm. She slowly raised her gaze to mesh with his. A pulsing moment passed when he lost all sense of time and place. It could have been seconds or minutes or even days.

      His eyes kept tracking to her mouth, the shape of it, the fullness of it that suggested passion and heat, and yet a strange sense of untouched innocence. He felt like a magnet was pulling his head down towards it. He had to fight every muscle and sinew and throbbing cell in his body to counter its force.

      He watched as the tip of her tongue slipped out between her lips and moistened the top lip, then the bottom one, leaving each one glistening with a tempting sheen. Blood rushed to his groin, thickening him with a rocket blast of lust.

      He had a sudden feeling he had been asleep all of his life until this moment. It was like coming out of cold storage. A slow melt was moving through his body; he could feel it all the way to his fingertips, the urge, the compulsion to touch, to feel her soft skin, sliding, stroking, moving against his own.

      His mind was not following its usual logical pathways. It was short-circuiting with erotic images, hot fantasies of him burying himself inside her body, bringing them both to completion in a matter of seconds.

      Could she sense the turmoil in him? Had she any idea of the effect she was having on him? He tried to read her expression but her eyelids were lowered over her eyes as she focussed on his mouth.

      He lifted his hand to her cheek, barely aware he was doing it until he felt the creamy softness of her skin against his palm, tilting her face so she had to meet his gaze. Those bewitching eyes made his pulse pound all the harder. Every beat of his heart felt like a hammer blow, each one sending a deep, resounding echo to his pelvis. Her skin felt like silk against his palm and fingers. Warm. Smooth. Sensuous. Her eyes contained a glint of anticipation, of expectation. Of triumph.

      He moved the pad of his thumb over the small, neat circle of her chin, watching as her pupils flared like pools of ink. Her lips were slightly apart, just enough for him to feel the soft waft of her vanilla-scented breath. How easy would it be to close the distance and touch his lips to hers? The urge to do so was strong, perhaps stronger than at any other time in his life, but he knew if he did it he would be crossing a line. Breaking a boundary. Inviting trouble.

      ‘I’m not going to do it,’ he said, dropping his hand from her face.

      Her look was all innocence. ‘What?’

      ‘You know what.’

      She met his eyes with a hard gleam in her own. ‘I could make you disregard those principles you’re clinging to. I could do it in a heartbeat.’

      Julius frowned until his eyebrows met. ‘Why are you trying to ruin your one chance of getting your life in order?’

      She glared at him. ‘I don’t need you to get my life in order. I don’t need anyone.’

      ‘How’s that been working out for you so far?’

      Her eyes were twin flashpoints of heat. ‘You know what I hate about men like you? You think just because you have it all, you can have it all.’

      ‘Look,’ Julius said. ‘I get this is a tough gig for you. You don’t want to be here. But what’s your alternative?’

      She pressed her lips together and looked at him mulishly. ‘I’m not the one who should be threatened with going to prison.’

      ‘Yes, well, apparently most prisons are full of innocent people,’ he said. ‘But according to our current laws you can’t steal or damage property or whatever else you did and not be punished for it.’

      She swung away. ‘I don’t have to listen to this.’

      ‘Holly.’ Julius caught her by the arm and turned her to face him. ‘I want to help you. Can’t you see that?’

      She gave him a disdainful look as she tested his hold. ‘How? By making me get used to all this luxury, only to be tossed back out on the streets as soon as the month is up?’

      Julius’s frown deepened. ‘Don’t you have a home to go to?’

      Her eyes skittered away from his. ‘Let go of my arm.’

      He loosened his hold but kept her tethered to him with the bracelet of his fingers. ‘No one is going to toss you anywhere,’ he said. What are you going