Forbidden Fire by Heather Graham

hansom cab. He was enjoying himself. There was a great deal of beauty and elegance here in the heart of the city. He paused before a new house going up and critically studied its lines. It would be a beautiful home.
    He frowned then, thinking of the postponed meetings he was going to have to reschedule when he returned home. He’d been hired to design an office building. The site was to be upon some of the newly reclaimed land in the marina area, and he was having a hell of time convincing the owners that if they chose to build there, their costs would go up. He felt uneasy about building on the land—it was all fill. Deep pilings would be necessary, and a great deal of steel. And it would also have to be a building capable of sway. Tremors often swept the city, and a certain amount of sway was necessary to keep the structures from cracking. He had been watching buildings go up ever since he was a boy. And he had known even then that more than anything else in the world, he wanted to build. And he had hated the store for standing in the way of that dream.
    It was late, he realized, really late. He started to walk in the direction of Hyde Park, and as the moon flared its soft light upon him to join with the glow of the gas lamps, he suddenly raised his hand to note the thin white band around his pinkie where he had removed the signet ring in the middle of his wedding ceremony.
    He stopped cold, feeling ill, feeling a heat sweep over him. For what seemed like the thousandth time that day he demanded harshly of himself just what in hell he had done.
    And why, in God’s name, had he done it?
    He paused and leaned against a fence and closed his eyes tightly. He had vowed on the day when he had stood in the drizzling cemetery and watched as Diana’s coffin was sealed into the family mausoleum that he would never marry again, never call another woman his wife. They had loved one another too deeply, too fiercely. She had been the most gentle woman he had ever met, so gentle that she had left life behind her with barely a whisper.
    It had been a long time before he had managed to touch another woman, and then, perhaps, he had managed to rationalize things in his mind. It was all right to find women entertaining and amusing, and it was even all right to form certain relationships, as long as they were kept in their proper perspective. As long as the women were never his wife, as long as he need never rouse himself to offer love.
    And he had been managing just fine.…
    Now there was this chit of a girl in his life. He had accepted the responsibility that Sir Thomas had begged of him, but he had never expected this.
    His mouth set in a grim line of anger. She wanted her inheritance enough to beg and plead. She had sold herself, just as surely as the finest courtesan in London or the most jaded street girl in San Francisco. She’d used logic, indignation, a touch of pathos and even fury, and somehow, she had sparked something dark and dangerous in his heart. He had said no, he had meant no. And then suddenly he had been out pounding the streets in a state of total dishabille, digging up the Honorable Mr. Blackstone—
    And exchanging wedding vows.
    What was it that she did that could cause him to feel such a passion of fury in his heart and soul? He didn’t want to hurt her. By God, she was Sir Thomas’s daughter.
    No, he didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to be near her. He had just wanted to go on living, allowing her to roam his house and giving her the freedom of her own life. And she, in turn, should have politely avoided him, stayed out of his way, and behaved graciously and kindly to guests within his home. It could have worked.
    But he’d lost his temper and married her …
    He pushed away from the fence, still furious with himself as he strode down the street, heading for his room.
    He hated her, suddenly and intensely, and what she had goaded him into doing.
    He paused