What is she doing here? Even as she steps out the car, she wonders just what has brought her back to Haxby Park - and to Richard. The truth was that Richard Carlisle frightened her. Beneath that charming veneer, he was a powerful and dangerous man. And she was a married woman.

And yet...she missed him. She missed the way he challenged her, the way he deferred to her judgement, the confidence he gave her. And goodness, the way he kissed her...This was a man who knew what he was doing, what he wanted...

And he wanted her.

She had telephoned on a whim, surprised to hear him answer, surprised to hear herself agreeing to meet him. The arrangement was made for the day after the Servants' Ball - she hoped she would not be missed after the festivities.

She steps through the heavy wooden doors of Haxby Park and into the vast entrance hall. He is waiting for her.

"Well..." She sees the unsubtle sweep of his eyes - not so much undressing as planning...The heat rushes unbidden to her cheeks. When was the last time Robert had looked at her quite like that?

He gestures to the drawing room, chivalrously stepping aside to allow her to walk in first and look around. The room is everything she had envisioned - gleaming wooden floors; rich oriental rugs; dark, fashionable rococo furniture; translucent swirls of green and gold wallpaper.

"It's perfect, Richard."

"So you approve?" She rolls her eyes playfully at his teasing - he had refused to order or buy anything at Haxby without seeking her approval.

He strolls into the middle of the room, towards a tray holding a bottle of brandy and two snifters.

"Do you remember?" he asks as he splashes brandy into each glass.

"Yes." On her first day at Haxby, he had proudly held up the ornate bottle up to the light. This dates back to the Battle of Waterloo, he had declared. I plan to open it when Haxby is finished.

"We have something to celebrate."

She takes the glass he holds out. They are standing close together now - too close - yet she is unable to move. She watches in fascination as he takes a gulp of the amber liquor, watches the way he swirls it round his mouth, the way his tongue taps against his teeth as he tastes it...She should not be finding this so erotic.

"It doesn't taste any different." He holds the glass up and inspects the contents suspiciously.

"What were you expecting?"

"Well, for a one hundred year-old brandy..."

"The age of the brandy doesn't matter. It's the time in the barrel before it's bottled that's important."

She cannot help but smirk when he lets out a disappointed snort and sets the glass back down. "Do you want it?" He gestures to the untouched glass in her hand.

"Not really..." She notices the dangerous glint in his eyes as he takes the glass; her body automatically tenses as she anticipates his embrace...

He pulls her towards him with an eagerness that makes her gasp. His arms circle her waist, she tastes the heat of brandy as his tongue glides over her lips and pushes into her mouth...Even as her body responds, her mind screams at her to stop...

"Richard...I.." She jerks her head away, hands pushing against his forearms to put some distance between them. "This can't happen...I..." She traces the path of his tongue on her lips while trying to come up with something coherent...She sees him staring at her lips, hears his sharp intake of breath...

"Don't. Do. That." His fingers dig into her waist.

"Sorry." She stops immediately.

"Cora..." His voice is hoarse. She can feel the tension in his arms and the way his hands still grip her waist. "I'm not going to force you. I'm many things, but I'm not..."

"I know," she replies softly. She looks into her eyes as he strokes her cheek with the back of his hand, leans in to kiss her again...This time the kiss is soft and gentle, and her resolve crumbles. She matches his light touch, feeling his murmured appreciation against her lips, hearing a groan when her tongue slips into his mouth. The warm rush of pleasure creeps up her spine as her mind tries to rationalise what she is doing... Robert can't find out...god! But Robert's never done this, never got it so exactly, exquisitely right...He can't find out...

She lets out a frustrated sigh when he breaks the kiss and moves to her neck. "Does your husband kiss you like that?" he whispers in her ear. She knows the answer he wants, yet still feels a stab of guilt when she replies:

"No."

He presses a satisfied kiss below her ear. She bites her lip as he moves down her neck, each touch pushing thoughts of Robert further out of her mind. While his hands on her back press her closer to him, his body pushes her back towards...her legs hit the back of the sofa...

"Richard!" she hisses, struggling out of his embrace. It is bad enough, without doing it... "Not here, darling." She kisses him lightly, running her fingers over the lapels of his jacket. "Let's go upstairs. Please."

To be continued...in the next chapter :-) Will change the rating in the next few days.

I find vaguely M-rated stuff difficult to write, so I'd appreciate any feedback and/or constructive criticism.