Anna lifted herself on her elbows and shoved her hair from her face. She lay in the middle of a large, red curtained bed, so big that it could have easily slept six people. “Good heavens, this is your bedchamber!”

“So it is.” He came to stand by the bed, staring down at her with such an intent expression that hot color touched her cheeks.

She collected her wits and scooted off the bed, trying to right her clothing with trembling hands. “Are you mad?”

A strange light glinted in his eyes. “Oh, I’m mad. I’m beyond mad. And it’s all your fault.”

Anna couldn’t draw a breath. She stood facing him, intensely aware of the bed behind her. “Anthony, this is foolish. I’m leaving.”

“No,” he said, moving forward so that his knees held hers against the edge of the bed. “You aren’t going anywhere. We, my troublesome little governess, are going to settle this thing between us once and for all.”

Anna shoved him as hard as she could. Caught off guard, he staggered back a step. It was all Anna needed. She ran, making it halfway to the door before she was unceremoniously picked up, carried back to the bed, and tossed onto the counterpane again. This time Anthony joined her on the bed, his body covering hers.

She tried to push him away, but he captured her hands and held them over her head, his broad chest blocking the light from the windows. He leaned across her, his face inches from hers. “Stop it, Thraxton.”

“I’m not discussing anything in your bedchamber.”

“Fine. Then we’ll do something other than talk.” His gaze traveled down her face, lingering on her mouth, her chin, then below. “But you and I are staying here until we reach an agreement.”

“An agreement about what?” she asked through clenched teeth. His body heated her through her gown.

“We cannot ignore what is between us, Anna.”

Anna jutted her chin. “I am not attracted to you, Greyley.”

A warm smile settled on his lips. “Aren’t you?” He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, his heated breath sending hot chills across her skin. “Not even a little?”

She closed her eyes, but that made her immediately aware of how his chest rubbed against hers, of his hands about her wrists and the power of his body as it brushed her. She was burning with need, with the desire to touch him and be touched.

The silence about them grew and thickened. Anna moved restlessly, her hips pushing against his.

His breathing grew more strained. “God, Anna. Do you know what you do to me?”

“No,” Anna gasped, trying hard to still the thundering of her heart, the restless heat that was growing inside her. “We’ll talk,” she blurted out, suddenly desperate to put some space between them.

Anthony placed a single, warm kiss on her cheek. “I just came from seeing Charlotte. She has been reading some interesting books of late.”

Charlotte. Anna tried to ignore the fact that Anthony was now placing feather light kisses on her neck. “Mary Wollstonecraft wrote some marvelous—”