“Robert,” Lisa said with relief, recognizing his voice as he closed the terrace doors, enclosing them in darkness.

“Dammit Lisa, I am doing my best to keep you safe,” he muttered as he struck a match and used it to light a candle on a nearby table before continuing. “But it would help if you would use some common sense and not throw yourself into danger at every turn.”

“Throw myself into danger at every turn?” she gasped with amazement as he turned to glare at her.

“Yes,” he snapped with frustration. “Running off to tea in brothels, opening your window to kidnappers and disappearing to the gardens with a man who could be the one behind all your trouble. What the hell are you thinking?”

“I didn’t know Mrs. Morgan ran a brothel!” Lisa protested with outrage. “And I certainly didn’t open the window for that man, I just wanted some fresh air and—dammit! I didn’t want to leave the ballroom tonight. And I didn’t want him mauling me as he was. In fact I was struggling to get free.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t look like you were struggling in Pembroke’s arms down there in the gardens,” he snarled. “You looked as cozy as a two-bit—”

His words broke off in surprise as her hand connected with his cheek in a sharp slap that echoed in the sudden silence.

Lisa was rather shocked that she’d done it. She hadn’t intended to, didn’t even realize she was going to until her hand connected with his face. Now she watched Robert raise a hand to the cheek she’d hit, and arch an eyebrow as he rubbed it.

“Interesting. You’ll slap me, where you didn’t slap him, yet claim you were unwilling. I guess that says just how unwilling you really were.”

Lisa’s hand flew up again, but this time he caught it.

“Once will do,” he growled, holding her by the wrist firmly. “Try it again and I shall have to punish you.”

In response, Lisa let her other hand fly. She was so mad she wanted to flail at him; hit, slap, scratch and even pull hair. But she suspected it wasn’t just anger at Robert for what he’d nearly said. She was furious that he was too obtuse to love her, angry that she’d felt so helpless in Lord Pembroke’s hold until she’d broken free. Mad as hell that a woman she’d thought was a friend had tried to kidnap and drug her, primp and present her for the pleasure of some unknown man, and downright enraged that that unknown man thought he could and should be able to ravish and marry her if he so chose, against her will or not. She was mad about everything, and Robert was a handy target, so she let her other hand fly too.