“Who do you belong to?” he demanded, his voice quietly threatening.

She forced herself to breathe, forced herself to meet his eyes—eyes gray and ominous as a rising storm.

“You, sir,” she answered through teeth gritting against the sudden violation.

“And this,” he said, spreading his fingers open inside her. She felt herself growing wet at his touch and had to curse her betraying body for being so endlessly responsive to him. “Who does this belong to?”

“You, sir.”

“Mine to keep?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mine to give away?”

She swallowed before answering. “Yes, sir.”

“And mine to come claim again?”

Tears tried to form in her eyes but she forced them down. She nodded and whispered, “Yes, sir.”

Slowly he pulled his fingers out of her. She sat up and straightened her skirt while he wiped her wetness off his hand with a black handkerchief.

“Now,” he said without bothering to look at her, “you’ve had your say.”

Eleanor said nothing else as the limo pulled into the long, winding driveway of a snow-covered colonial manor. At least he’s got a nice house, Eleanor told herself. She’d almost expected it to look like a prison. But still, a pretty home was cold comfort for spending a week alone with a man she’d never met.

The limo stopped at the front door and a man, presumably Daniel, came out to greet them. She stood to the side shivering as she let the old friends exchange greetings and handshakes. Out of the corner of her eyes she studied Daniel. She guessed he was thirty-six or thirty-seven; he certainly looked no older. And, she grudgingly conceded, he was very handsome. Far from the thin pale hermit she’d imagined, he was well-muscled with a face as chiseled as an old Hollywood movie idol. His blond hair made him seem slightly less threatening but when he turned his attention to her, she stiffened in fear. His eyes were neither cold nor cruel, but flush with sorrow. The sadness rendered him immediately human to her and that was the last thing she wanted or needed. To get through this week, she needed to keep her guard up. She’d let him have her body if he demanded it of her. She’d give him nothing else.

“So this is Eleanor,” Daniel said as he offered her his hand. She shook it briskly and quickly before dropping it and pulling her arms tight in around her.

“My Eleanor, yes,” he said with a smile of affection and pride. His obvious love for her didn’t stop her from still thinking of him as just him. Faced with the reality of the week ahead, she was more furious at him than ever.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Daniel said. “It’ll be nice to have a houseguest again. I’ve been a bit of a Miss Havisham lately.”

Eleanor bit her lip not wanting to laugh at his astute, if ridiculous, literary reference. She hadn’t expected him to be a Dickens fan.