Nick's head whipped up, his fingers stilled in mid-caress. Lily was sitting cross-legged like a Turk on the pillows at the top of the bed, her wings behind her echoing the curved headboard, her hands draped across her bent knees. Why now? he thought wildly. Why in blazes did Lily have to come now? "Damnation," he rasped as he glared at her. "I thought you wished to make me happy." As she lay beneath him, Rose's eyes flew open, wounded and uncomprehending. "I thought I was making you happy, Nick, truly," she whispered uncertainly. "But if somehow I've done something wrong—" "Nay, sweetheart, not a blessed thing," murmured Nick quickly, sweeping his mouth down on hers to reassure her. He shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on Rose, not Lily. If he tried hard enough to ignore her, perhaps she'd give up and go away. "Of course I wish you to be happy, my dear captain," said Lily. "But you won't shed me until I've said my piece. Randy and virile you doubtless are, but lust alone isn't making you do this.
