"Why am I portrayed such an ogre, Bella? You have no fear of me. True?"

"No. Why should I be?" she retorted brusquely. "I'd only be worried if my reputation was in tatters and you told someone."

"Come now, Bella, do you really believe I'd do a thing like that?"

"If anyone saw us at the gazebo, or this morning..."

"You still believe me a scoundrel, Bella, don't you?"

"What does it matter now?"

He came to stand quite close, gazing intently at her face. A whiff of his cologne, a unique, faint odor of his maleness, emanated from his clothing and reminded her of the torrid kisses they shared at the gazebo.

"If you think that, it must be because you're trying to force a proposal from me."

"Wh--at!" Her cheeks flamed. Hazel eyes fired a volley of gold lightning at him as she spit out a tirade of angry words. "How dare you? Oh, you're truly low, Horatio! You're very much mistaken if you've taken that into that thick skull of yours, sirrah!" She was almost infuriated enough to slap his face--hard. But she held back. "Keep your marriage candidates in mind instead of badgering me. And your teeth in your mouth, too," she added, spewing a few more angry words at him.

"Why? Why won't you consider a marriage of convenience, Bella?"

Again, she tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arm in a bruising hold.

"You must be addled, Horatio. I explained what kind of life I want, and it's not a marriage of convenience." She pulled away and turned her back.

"Bella..."

"Just let me go, Horatio," she said, glancing over her shoulder, feeling sick to her stomach. "We've had this discussion before. We both know it won't work."

"One would think you're overset," he said, smiling wickedly, taunting her.

"And why are you being so arrogant and offensive?" she snapped back. "We don't have anything to discuss. You...you're going to age much faster, my lord, if you keep on deviling me."

He laughed openly. "Bella, I only thought you and I were of a size that fit well together..."

Fire flashed in the amber depths of her eyes. "What? You wish to marry me for my dimensions? Like your horse, perhaps?" She was outraged. She rolled her eyes. "I don't believe this!"

He had moved away from her and was braced in the doorway with his arms spread. His breath of shoulders and torso, and his male stance and presence was both provoking and overpowering.

"I heard one of the twins likened me to a big bear. Who can tell? A good-sized hairy bear might suit a certain lady." His eyebrows wiggled, and he grinned again, just as wickedly. "As well as being...umm...very huggable."

She snorted. Her eyes opened wide. "Wh--at?" She repeated.

Then the ridiculousness of the entire conversation dawned on her. "I really don't believe this!" Anabel burst out in a round of undiluted laughter, unable to stop.

It cleared the air, wiped away her anger, and sweetened her attitude.

This man was made of many moods, an enigma whose depths she had yet to plumb, Anabel realized. He could be stern and tender. Other times, volatile and uncompromising. And sometimes, even likeable, charming--and witty.

It was a shame she'd never have time to know him better. Too bad there'd never be anything between them.

"Horatio, have you gone mad?" She went on laughing, her ire washed away. "You? Huggable?"

"Have I nonplussed the well-educated, direct speaking Miss Satterley?" His grin matched hers.

Anabel took another step backward.

His eyes had taken on a new light, but his lips remained smiling. Feeling lighthearted, a leaden weight no longer burdened Horatio--or his conscience.

Regaining her equanimity, Anabel needed to say something. "As I was saying, Horatio," Anabel swallowed in mid-sentence, "about Lady Carlene..."

Her voice trailed off into silence.

He was looking at her very strangely. His booted legs moved on lazy strides, closing the distance between them. Anabel saw there was no way she could get by him to leave.

She heard herself start to babble. "I've heard you growl more than once, Horatio, so you must not..."

He said nothing, kept coming with that same intense expression on his face.

Soon the backs of her knees pressed against the feather mattress of the twins' four-poster. He was less than an arm's length away. She saw the simmering heat in his eyes.

He leaned toward her. "I'm not at all like a nasty bear, Bella. Let me show you."