He dismissed his valet, tore off his clothes, and donned a robe. Then did nothing. He stood in the middle of his room and stared at the bathroom door, and didn’t take a single step toward it.

It was going to be locked, he knew it was, and he didn’t want to find that out for certain. And if it was, he knew he’d be up all night, trying it again and again, in hope that she just hadn’t got around to opening it yet, when if it wasn’t open by now, it probably wasn’t going to get opened at all. Either way, it was going to be a long night.

Everything in him insisted he open that door immediately, yet he was so loath to face the disappointment of it being locked that it was an actual fear. Another emotion she was making him feel . . .

How in the bloody hell had this become so important to him? She was just a lovely conquest, wasn’t she? She would be an hour or two of pleasure, no more. She would also be another notch in his campaign of revenge, though that was a point that didn’t seem to matter much now, was no more than a sop for his conscience.

He didn’t like this hold she had on him, when he didn’t understand what it was. The seducer had become the seduced. He wanted her now at any cost and that frightened him. He should leave her be. He should get her out of his house even, put her back in her own if necessary, anything to get her beyond his manipulation. With her here and so accessible, she actually had more control over him than he did her. That had been proven today when she had held his emotions, his every thought, his body, all at her whim. Thank God she was too innocent to know how to use that against him.

Larissa stood there in the bathroom for nearly an hour, staring at the lock on the connecting door. She wasn’t going to turn it. Rational thought had prevailed, even though it was making her miserable. She’d marry Vincent, yes, but she must have his proposal first. That was the proper order to go about these things.

But the promised “pleasure unimagined” wouldn’t leave her thoughts either, which was why she was still standing there, abject over her decision, and unaware that she was trying to find a way to get around it. Her pulse was racing as she imaginined him on the other side of that door, waiting.

Surely he had realized himself by now that a proposal was required before they indulge in any more pleasure of any sort, let alone the kind she was sure he had in mind. He could have intended to ask her tonight, though. She could be denying them both for no good reason.