He told himself she was hard as stone and just as unfeeling. Then he remembered how soft, how sweet her lips had been when his own had tasted them.

So he cursed her and rode harder.

The skies threatened rain, but he ignored them. It was the first time in days he’d been able to get away from obligations long enough to take Dracula out for more than cursory exercise. The wind whistled in off the sea and set waves dancing high.

He wanted the storm. By God, he wanted the wind and the rain and the thunder.

He wanted Hannah.

Imbécile! Only a fool wanted a woman when there was nothing returned. Only a madman thought of ways to have what had already been denied. He’d told himself all this before, but still he caught himself dreaming of ways he could gather her up and take her somewhere until he found the right way to show her. . . . Show her what? Bennett asked himself. Show her that it was different with her?

What woman would believe it?

Dozens, he thought, and his own laughter echoed bitterly behind him. He could certainly attest to that. But now when it was true, when it mattered the most, this woman wouldn’t believe.

Because he’d acted like an idiot. Drawing the stallion to a halt, he stopped at a precipice over the sea and looked out. He’d pushed, too hard, too fast. It was humbling to admit he might have done so because he’d never met with a great deal of resistance before.

Women were drawn to him—because of the title and position. He wasn’t so vain or so foolish not to know it. But they were also drawn to him beeause he enjoyed them. He liked their softness, their humor, their vulnerabilities. It was also true that he hadn’t been intimate with as many as his reputation allowed, but there’d been enough women in his life for him to understand and appreciate that romance was a two-way street.

Hannah was young, inexperienced, sheltered. The term “Lady” wasn’t merely a title, but a way of life. As far as men were concerned, it was doubtful she’d taken herself away from her books long enough to form any strong relationships.

With another oath, Bennett dragged a hand through his wind-tossed hair. And what had he done? He’d tried to seduce her at a dinner party. How could he have expected a woman of her breeding and sensitivity to be anything less than insulted? It had been the clumsiest, and perhaps the crudest of propositions.

Dracula danced impatiently, but Bennett held him steady another moment as he watched the storm roll slowly from the horizon toward the shore.