He hadn’t moved. She could see the coal-black sheen of his eyes from clear across the room. Then he started moving forward, slowly and deliberately. She could almost feel the tautness of his control, yet his voice sounded low. Velvet low. “You were a beautiful lady, Misha. I never saw you as anything other than a beautiful, sensitive, very special lady. Very, very young. Butterfly shy, easily frightened…” He was very close now, and she caught her breath as she realized he was reaching out for her.

“No.” The word was almost inaudible.

“Lonely…”

“Matthew-”

His fingers started, very gently, to thread through her hair. His thumb idly caressed the tender line of her jaw, raising her face to his. Through a blur of tears, she could see the smoldering passion in his charcoal eyes. “You were a girl then. Not nearly as beautiful as you are now. I wanted to protect you like an older brother when I saw things going so wrong. Don’t think I would have touched you then, Misha, because I never would have. Never,” he echoed.

Yet he did now. His lips gently met hers, soft, teasing, giving the briefest taste of him, hinting evocatively at the passion he was holding back. His huge palms cradled her face, and tenderly he brushed away the moisture beneath her eyes. Move away, Lorna, she told herself, but somehow she couldn’t obey that inner command. Nothing made sense. A sudden rush of disturbing emotions whispered through her, sensual feelings that couldn’t possibly belong to her. She’d never wanted Matthew. He’d never wanted her. Yet something crazy in his voice, that low, hypnotic, velvet voice of his, stirred up yearnings and desires and promises, the most irresistible of promises…

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you, Misha. Not the girl you were, but the woman you are. Can you understand that? It has nothing to do with another place and time. It has to do with now, the way you smile. The look in your eyes, Misha, the way you flare up, the way you vibrate with emotion…”