An excerpt from THE GOLDEN LEOPARD
(October 2002, Onyx)

There was a click as the door latch lifted and a creak from unoiled hinges. She watched in the mirror as Duran entered the room with his usual indolent grace, closed the door behind him, and leaned his shoulders against it. She knew that pose all too well--one leg crossed over the other below the knees and arms folded at his chest.
 

Well, she had expected this, or something much like it. And better the scene play out here, in private. She was no longer so careless of her reputation as she once had been.
 

Deliberately, she took her time tying the ribbons of her bonnet.
 

"Hullo, Jessie." His voice was smooth and dark. "You are even more beautiful than I remembered."
 

"Lord Duran." She turned, making no hurry of it, and favored him with the polite, disinterested smile she reserved for clients who were unlikely to buy anything. "So it was you I glimpsed in the exhibition room. I had imagined so, but what with the crush, I could not be sure of it. You were certainly the last person I was expecting to see."
 

"Glimpsed?" He chuckled. "Confess it, princess. You stared as if I'd begun to sprout two horns and a tail."
 

"Did I? How rude of me." She moved a few steps closer so that he would not imagine she feared to approach him. "My mind must have been elsewhere at the time, but I do apologize for not making you welcome. It is always delightful to come upon a former acquaintance, especially in the summer. London is so thin of company this time of year. Remind me, will you? How long has it been since last we met?"
 

"Precisely six years, two months, eighteen days, twenty-three hours and--" He drew out his pocket watch and flicked it open. "--seven minutes."
 

"Rubbish!" She had a misbegotten urge to laugh. "You are making that up."
 

"Probably. It felt much longer than that. But I do remember most explicitly the time we spent together. I remember, in splendid detail, what we did together."
 

"Then your memory is far more vivid than mine, sir." She was pleased to have said that with commendable nonchalance, given the mental images he had conjured with a few simple words.
 

What we did.
 

"Cat got your tongue, princess? Or have you decided to pretend that we were never lovers?"
 

Ice gathered at her spine. A blessing. It held her erect and kept her cold. "Lovers? Well, I suppose so, although I have always thought that to be a ridiculous euphemism. But I have never been one to refine upon the past, and I certainly do not mean to revisit it. Were you hoping otherwise?"
 
 

He lifted his hands in a gesture of mock protest. "Not I. Hope is for those will not seize what they want. Should I still desire you, Jessie, I would do whatever it required to have you."
 

"Short of force, I trust?"
 

For the first time, one of her arrows struck home. His eyes narrowed, and his arms dropped to his sides. "That would be out of the question. As you very well know."
 

"Yes." What she most hated about Duran was the ease with which he could wring honesty from her. "I'm sorry. It was a meanspirited thing to say."
 

"Indeed. But you have every right to wish me to the devil. I expect you are doing so at this very moment." He cast her a benevolent smile. "It may console you to learn that your wish will be granted within a year. As a matter of fact, I could peg out at any time."
 

Had he picked up some deadly sickness in India? The very thought of it sent her heart plummeting. He might be a vast nuisance at close range, but a world without Duran somewhere in it would be oddly colorless.
 

He looked healthy enough. If anything, he was more tautly muscled than the man who used to sweep her up in his arms. But she sensed a different sort of strength in him now, as if he'd been tempered on an anvil.
 

"If you are ill," she said with studied calm, "I am sorry to hear it. Is that why you have returned to England?"
 

"You are concerned for my health? How very kind. But I'm perfectly well, save that my life is no longer my own." He made a sharp gesture as if dismissing the subject and slouched back against the door. "For the time being, my intentions are entirely honorable. The only proposition I have for you at the moment concerns a matter of business."
 

Business? Unaccountably insulted, she twisted the strings of her reticule between her fingers. "I already have more clients than I can possibly manage. But I'm sure that if you explain your requirements to Mr. Christie, he will refer you to someone who can be of assistance."
 

"I have, and he did. That's why I followed you upstairs. Christie has informed me that you are acquainted with every important collector of antiquities in England. By his account, you are the only one who can provide me the information I require."
 

"Mr. Christie said that?" A thrill of pride tingled at her fingers and toes. For the briefest moment, she let herself enjoy it.
 

"He added that I should expect no more from you than a list of names. In his opinion, you know everyone in society and nothing whatever about the profession you aspire to enter. More to the point, you are a female and therefore not to be taken seriously. He only indulges your hobby because of your connections."
 

Trust Hugo Duran to slam her back to earth without mercy.
 

At the least, he was consistent. The good will of others, he had always said, should never be taken into account when making important decisions. But at the time, she had thought he was referring to himself, warning her not to rely on him.
 

She had since learned to rely only on herself, and credited him with teaching her to survive even the most crushing disappointments. In another thirty or forty years, she might be grateful for the lesson. Meantime, the ice at her spine had begun to melt. Her confidence was seeping away. He was still so beautiful, damn him, and she was still so weak.
 

"I can certainly provide you a list," she said, pleased to hear an assured voice emerge from her clogged throat. "Put in writing a description of what you are looking for and post it to my secretary. Mr. Herbert will provide you her name and direction."
 

"I shall call on you tomorrow," he said as if she hadn't spoken. "Perhaps in time for breakfast. Do you remember how it used to be, Jessie? We could never have breakfast together."
 

"But that, I believe, is commonplace when engaging in a clandestine affair. And you needn't bother dropping by, for I shall not be at home."
 

He closed the space between them, moving so near that she felt his breath against her forehead when he spoke. "Don't run away, Jessie. I promise you'll not succeed."
 

When she tried to dodge around him, his hand grasped her forearm with just enough pressure to keep her in place. She looked down at the long, white-gloved fingers curled just below her elbow, shocked that he was touching her and astonished at what she saw.
 

His black coat sleeve had pulled back from his cuff, exposing a heavy gold bracelet coiled around his wrist. Not quite meeting at the center, the bracelet thickened on each side to form two knobs, each crowned with a large cabochon gem. An emerald and a ruby. Her gaze lifted to meet his eyes.
 

He looked amused. "Do you like it?"
 

"A charming bauble," she replied, withdrawing her arm. He did not try to hold her. "But a most peculiar affectation, Duran, even for you. Unless you wish to be laughed at?"
 

"Oh, I think no one will laugh at me, princess. Certainly not to my face. And I cannot remove it, you know. Not even when I bathe."
 

A flash of memory. Steam rising from the water. His lean body lounging in the copper tub while she rubbed lemony soap over his chest . . .
 

She shook her head, willing the vision gone. "I wish to leave now, Duran. Please step out of my way."
 

He bowed and moved aside. "Don't forget what I said, Jessie. When I call on you tomorrow, be there. Hear me out. And when you agree to help me, you may name your reward."

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