Temptation and Surrender by Stephanie Laurens Page A

into the wall halfway between the courtyard and the back door.
    They had to be doors to the cellar.
    She studied them, then glanced along the rear façade, then turned to view the surrounding gardens, noting trees to help her fix her position.
    Eventually she brought her gaze back to the cellar doors. They were sturdy and had a small pane of thick glass set in their center; given the angle from which she was viewing them, she couldn’t see through.
    She was weighing going forward and peeking in—just enough to confirm the doors did indeed give access to the cellar—against the risk of someone coming out from the kitchen and seeing her, when a most peculiar panoply of sensations washed down her spine.
    Abruptly swinging around, she stepped up, back into the courtyard—and nearly plowed into a wall.
    A muscled male wall comprised of Jonas Tallent.
    Her heart didn’t just leap, it turned cartwheels. She instinctively inhaled, only to have the breath get stuck in her chest, doing her no good at all.
    Eyes wide, she took a hasty step sideways. “What are you doing here?” The words came out perilously close to a squeak.
    She swallowed and tried to steady her pounding heart, tried not to notice the alluring warmth that seemed to reach for her.
    How had he got so close? Without her knowing? She’d realized he was there, but far too late. Why hadn’t her witless senses noticed him and warned her, when they so consistently noticed him everywhere else? Why…?
    She was mentally babbling. Dragging in a huge breath, she held it and with an effort summoned a frown.
    Recalled too late how unwise it was to look into his eyes, into the fathomless, fascinating depths…she fell in, and they held her.
    He quirked one lazy brow at her. “I’d intended to ask you the same question.”
    She blinked. Question? He was standing half a foot away, towering over her—she could barely remember her name.
    His lips curved. “What are you doing here?”
    A hint of steel lay beneath the smooth words—enough to prod her instincts to action. She fought free of his spell, narrowed her eyes on his. “Did you follow me?”
    Her tone made the question an accusation. Jonas raised both his brows in reply. “Yes.” He held her gaze, then reached out and, with one finger, flicked back a gleaming brown curl at her temple. Sensed rather than saw her battle her reaction, felt an answering response that went marrow-deep.
    He kept his eyes on hers—jewel green lit with golden sparks. “Are you going to tell me what you’re searching for?”
    Those lovely eyes flared. “No!” Her lips compressed to a thin, tight line, then, eyes locked with his, she muttered, “I’m not searching for anything.”
    He inwardly sighed. He’d tried being subtle, but that hadn’t got him far. He’d tried being restrained; stepping back from her last night had taken more resolve than he’d known he possessed. Afterward, perhaps unsurprisingly, she’d inhabited his dreams, disturbing his rest.
    Yet here she was, still holding firm against him.
    Even if she was all but quivering with awareness.
    An awareness that in turn affected him. Perhaps…
    Heaving a melodramatic, put-upon sigh, he reached for her. Closed his hands about her upper arms and jerked her nearer. She uttered a strangled squeak as he released her—to slide his hands around her and link them, effectively caging her within his arms without having his hands on her.
    Without crushing her to him, as every instinct he possessed was urging.
    Instead of fighting or struggling, resisting in any way, she froze. Stopped breathing.
    Linked hands resting at the back of her waist, he smiled intently into her wide, shocked eyes. “I’m not going to let you go until you tell me all. Until you confess what it is that brought you to Colyton—which I strongly suspect is the thing you’re searching for.” He raised his brows. “Am I right?”
    Her eyes searched his. Her hands had instinctively risen, but she