The Gold Coin (Colby's Coin 1)

Anastasia's heart began hammering against her ribs. "You're speaking from experience."

"Um-hum." His knuckles caressed her cheek, his forefinger slipping beneath her chin to tilt it upward. "I'm much the same way. I seize life with both hands, savor every opportunity it hands me." His gaze fell to her lips. "Every one."

He lowered his head, capturing her mouth beneath his.

This kiss was nothing like the one he'd given her last night; nothing like anything she'd ever experienced. It was intense, commanding, his lips molding and shaping hers, urging them apart, his hands gripping her shoulders, gliding down the sleeves of her gown, then settling on her waist, tugging her closer as he deepened the kiss.

Anastasia shivered as his tongue touched hers, then claimed it in a slow, purposeful melding she felt down to the soles of her feet.

She moaned, torn between dizziness and drowning, and clutched at Damen's waistcoat, much more for balance than resistance. The truth was, resistance was the farthest thing from her mind. Not when what was happening was so unbearably exquisite.

"Put your arms around me," Damen instructed hoarsely, seizing her arms and bringing them up and around his neck. "Yes. Like that." His own grasp tightened, one arm anchoring her at the waist, the other tangling in her already disheveled hair. "Now give me your mouth."

"Damen, I…"

"Kiss me." He gave her no time to reply before swallowing her words, tasting and awakening her in a way that made her entire body start to tremble.

She sank into the kiss, her fingertips feathering over the nape of his neck, discovering the damp strands of hair that lay against his cravat, and exploring their silky texture. In contrast, his body was hard and powerful, his muscles flexing beneath her touch, his entire frame taut even through the confines of his shirt and waistcoat.

As if sensing her thoughts, Damen sharpened her awareness of him, drawing her closer, then crushing her fully against the unyielding wall of his chest. Anastasia's breath expelled in a rush, her breasts tingling beneath the onslaught, her entire body shimmering to life.

The kiss burned on and on.

When they finally broke apart, it was long minutes later, and they stared at each other in mutual astonishment, their breath coming in harsh rasps.

"God," Damen muttered, half to himself. His fingers, of their own volition, continued sifting through her hair, letting damp strands trail across his palm, between his fingers, then watching as they feathered slowly to her shoulders. "I expected fireworks. But that—that was…" He shook his head, as if words escaped him.

Anastasia licked her lips, trying desperately to gain control of herself. She felt wobbly, as if she'd run a great distance, and her heart was racing its accord. Her skin felt hot and shivery all at once, and there was a dull ache inside her—one that made her feel strangely empty and yet simultaneously full. Worst of all was her reeling mind, which seemed unable to grasp even a thought, or much of anything else for that matter.

Damen framed her face between his palms, his expression still refle

cting amazement, his tone husky. "Are you all right?"

Reflexively, she nodded, although she doubted it was true. "I … yes."

A corner of his mouth lifted. "I'm not either."

"I'm not sure what just happened," Anastasia blurted out. A bright flush stained her cheeks. "I mean, I realize what happened, I just don't…"

"I understood what you meant." Damen's thumbs stroked her cheeks. "And I felt it, too."

Swallowing, Anastasia tried once again to collect herself, to right her upended emotions. "Our bank," she said, grabbing hold of the first coherent thought that flitted through her brain. "We should name it."

"Coward," Damen teased gently. But he followed her lead, letting his arms drop to his sides and taking a deliberate step away. "Very well, do you have a suggestion?"

"Yes." Anastasia was glad she'd mulled this over last night. There was no earthly way she could conjure up something profound in her current dazed state. "I think we should call it by the terms through which it was formed: Fidelity Union and Trust."

Damen's nod was almost instantaneous. "I agree. Lockewood and Colby. Fidelity Union and Trust. Fitting. Consider it done. I'll issue instructions to my assistant, have him draw up the papers with Fenshaw this very day. I'll look them over when I return to London tomorrow night. And you and I can sign them the next morning in my office."

"Wonderful." Anastasia averted her gaze, gripped Whisper's reins securely in her hand. "I think we should bring back the horses. It's nearly time for breakfast."

Silently, Damen studied her, and she could feel his steel-gray stare bore through her, even without turning her head for firsthand confirmation. "Fine," he said at length. "But we will talk about what happened here, Anastasia. Count on it."

* * *

George rose from behind his study desk, scanning the note he'd just penned.

Rouge, it read, Received your meager draft. Consider it an installment on our agreed-upon sum. Be advised that, as my costs have risen, so have yours. Therefore, the shipment you received was fair and adequate. Nonetheless, you'll be pleased to learn that I've found a new source of supply which will improve both the quality and the quantity. To demonstrate my good faith, a more extensive lot will be leaving in two to three weeks. The cost of that shipment is seven thousand five hundred pounds, including the fifteen hundred pounds due on the previous shipment. I'll advise you when the cargo is ready to sail. Rest assured, if you don't want the merchandise, another buyer will.—Medford