Secret Ways

Her aunt's concern only heightened Lee's worry.

Restless and unable to clear her disturbing thoughts, she dressed in a cinnamon serge riding habit and made her way out to the stables. Noir and two other of Parklands's Thoroughbreds were already on the road to Newmarket. They'd had to hire a walker, a big man named Jack Johnson, to get the horses there, but the three racing days were important and the stakes were high, a prize that would be poured back into the development of the stable.

Parklands didn't race many horses, but Lee was proud to say the few they owned were winners.

Tomorrow morning, Caleb Tanner and Jimmy Murphy would be leaving for the event and the following day she and her aunt would make the journey.

The sun was high as Lee stood next to the fence, watching the mares and colts romp playfully in the field, but her mind kept returning to Mary and her worry that something dreadful might have occurred.

"What's the matter? You look like you lost your best friend."

She turned at the sound of Caleb Tanner's deep voice, looked up at him and sighed. "One of them, at any rate." She told him about Mary and the house in Buford Street, explained that the girl was five months gone with child, and that she had disappeared. Why she confided in Caleb she couldn't say, but she felt better once she had.

"I'm so worried about her. I wish I knew for certain that she is safe."

"You say the girl was a chambermaid here at Parklands?"

"Yes. That is how she met Freddie Hully, the boy who fathered her babe. He worked for the blacksmith in the village."

"What do you think could have happened to her?"

There was something in his tone that made her glance up at him. "I don't know. She had very little money. I can't imagine why she would have gone off the way she did."

"Perhaps Freddie came back and she simply ran away with him."

Lee pondered that, a thought that had also occurred to her. "I suppose it's possible." She gazed off toward the horses galloping across the field. The little sand-colored colt she called Loch kicked up its heels, then sprinted like fury across the meadow.

"Perhaps we'll hear from her," Lee said, her thoughts still on Mary. "I suppose it doesn't do the least bit of good to worry."

"No, not the least. Why don't I saddle Grand Coeur for you? A nice long ride ought to help clear your head."

"Yes, that's what I was hoping when I came out here."

His eyes remained on her face. "Perhaps today I could join you."

Even from a distance, she could see the hunger in his eyes, the heat he made no attempt to hide. She knew what he wanted. He had made himself more than clear. But she wasn't afraid of him and she was tired and worried and riding with Caleb would certainly turn her thoughts away from poor Mary.

"All right. I would be pleased if you would join me."

Caleb walked into the shadows of the barn, thinking of Vermillion and the invitation he had just received. She knew he wanted her. His imagination conjured images of her lush breasts and small waist, and how it would feel to have her naked and writhing beneath him. Desire for her clenched in his loins and he went painfully hard.

Caleb ignored a sweep of lust and forced the images away. He had other, more important matters to consider and he would do well to remember that. He thought of the woman, Mary Goodhouse, one of those he had seen through the window the day he had journeyed to London.

Had something really happened to the girl? Or had she simply slipped away with the lad who had got her with child?

Caleb thought of the secrets his superiors believed were being collected at Parklands and passed to the French. The girl had worked here as a chambermaid. Could there be some connection to her sudden disappearance? Tonight, he would send word of the missing girl to Colonel Cox through the contact that had been set up for him in the village. A silversmith named Cyrus Swift would see it done.

Caleb tightened the cinch of Lee's sidesaddle and checked the stirrup. In the meantime, Vermillion had invited him to accompany her. He went hard again and shifted to relieve the pressure against the front of his breeches.

His arousal remained as he finished saddling Grand Coeur and set to work on the bay, brushing the animal's coat, then setting the flat-seated saddle in place. Coeur nickered softly as he led both animals out into the courtyard.

The sun shone brightly overhead and thick white clouds floated in an azure sky. With the fields turned a brilliant emerald green and the trees leafed out along the hedgerows, it was the perfect day for riding.

The perfect afternoon for seduction.

Caleb lifted Vermillion into the sidesaddle, letting his hands linger at her waist, letting her see the desire in his eyes, making her wonder at his intentions. His heart was beating faster but so was hers—he could see the rapid flutter in the hollow at the base of her throat.

Since the morning in the stable when he had kissed her, every time he watched her ride out across the fields, it was all he could do not to follow. He knew she wanted him. Whenever they were together, the air around them seemed hotter, the distance between them smoldered with heat.

He couldn't help wondering, once they had reached the shelter of the trees, how she would respond if he dragged her down from her horse and into his arms, if he kissed her with the same unleashed passion he had shown her before.

Caleb cast her a glance that took in the heightened color of her cheeks. He meant to find out exactly what the lady would do and now seemed exactly the time. In the morning he would be off to Newmarket, there for the racing meet. Tonight he would send word of Mary's disappearance to Colonel Cox. In the meantime, seducing Vermillion into an afternoon's pleasure occupied the majority of his thoughts.

She looked over at him and smiled, and he thought that she looked almost shy. "I'm ready if you are."

It was a ruse, he knew, and yet he found her feigned innocence appealing. He nodded, thinking how pretty she looked in her cinnamon-colored riding skirt.

Wanting her.

Thinking that today he meant to have her.

She hadn't bothered putting her hair up today, just left it loose down her back and swept it up on the sides with small, tortoiseshell combs. Ruby strands teased his cheek as he lifted her into the sidesaddle and the pressure in his groin grew more painful. Wondering if she had noticed his obvious arousal, he walked over to the bay, shoved his boot into the metal stirrup, and swung up on the horse's back.

"Let's ride toward the north end of the field," he said. Toward the old shepherd's cabin. The building was a ruin, he had recently discovered, too far gone to serve his purpose, but there was a tiny secluded meadow just beyond the cabin that perfectly fit his plans.

"All right." Vermillion rode out first and Caleb followed, enjoying the sight of her mounted on the gray, admiring her control of the horse. She was a splendid rider. He smiled to think he intended to put the talent to a far more intimate use.

Ahead of him, Vermillion set a leisurely pace, taking a hedgerow here and there, guiding Grand Coeur over a stream with ease. When she started to turn in the wrong direction, he moved a little in front of her, blocking the way, turning them casually toward the place he had in mind.

"Let's go this way," he said and she smiled and followed.

It didn't take long to reach the shepherd's cabin. Vermillion rode on past and so did he. As soon as they reached the meadow, he drew rein on the bay and whirled the horse to face her.

"Why don't we give them a rest? It looks as if there's a spring just over there." He pointed in that direction. "And there's grass enough to keep them content."

"I could use a stretch myself."

He swung down from his mount, then swung her down off the sidesaddle, holding her a little closer than needed, letting her absorb the heat of him, letting her know what she did to his body. When a faint tremor ran through her, he let her go and walked away. Making his way back to his horse, he untied the blanket behind his saddle and drew two sets of hobbles out of the saddlebags. Placing a pair on each horse, he removed their headstalls, and sent them off to graze.

She watched him start walking toward her. He heard a little gasp of surprise as he tossed the blanket aside, reached out and hauled her into his arms. He didn't give her time to protest, just bent his head and took her lips. They were soft as silk, smooth and sweet as honey, and beneath his determined assault, he thought that they trembled.

It was a clever act, one he was beginning to enjoy. He teased the corners of her mouth, coaxing her to open for him, then took her deeply with his tongue. He'd been hard off and on all day, his groin heavy with need and pulsing with heat, his blood running thick and hot.

His hands slid down, over the soft sun-warmed velvet of her riding skirt. He cupped the globes of her bottom, tested the firmness, and lifted her against him, letting her feel how hard he was, letting her know what he meant to do.

For an instant her body stiffened and she drew a little away. Caleb claimed her lips again and very softly kissed her. He nibbled the corners of her mouth, enjoying the game, sliding his tongue into the sweet, moist cavern. He deepened the kiss and felt her tremble, coaxed her with each caress to give him what he wanted, and Vermillion responded, melting against him, sliding her arms up around his neck.

He wanted to drag her down in the grass and lift her skirts, wanted to cover her small, lush body and drive himself inside her. Instead he forced himself to go slow. He wanted this to be good for her, good for both of them. He didn't know how many men she'd had but he wanted to be among those she remembered. He didn't know why it was important, only that it was.

Caleb felt her fingers digging into his shoulders and deepened the kiss, claiming her lips first one way and then another, his hands working the black satin loops on the front of her jacket. He eased the fabric off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground at her feet. Vermillion seemed not to notice. The bodice of the gown was cut indecently low and it was easy to slide his fingers inside, to cup one of her pale, full breasts.

They were round and firmer than he had imagined, heavy and warm in his hand. His pulse took a leap and fire sank into his loins. The blood pounding in his ears made his pulse feel thick and sluggish. Vermillion made a soft little mewling sound as he began to knead the fullness, to pebble the peak, then gently pinch the ends. He felt her go lax, as if her knees refused to support her. His fingers cupped the sweet curve of her bottom to lift and hold her against him and her hold tightened on his neck.

"Caleb," she whispered, the words faint and breathy, edged with her growing desire.

"Easy," he whispered, trying to control his raging lust, determined to make the experience last. He began to work the tiny jet buttons at the back of her gown, felt them part one by one, skimmed his fingers over the smooth skin beneath. He slid the bodice of the dress off her shoulders, leaving her naked to the waist, and eased back a little to enjoy the view.

Her breasts were high and full and tipped with big pink nipples, and as he gazed down at them, they quivered. Desire expanded inside him. His loins tightened painfully and he wondered how much longer he could resist the incredible temptation she made.

Reaching down, he cupped the heavy fullness, lowered his head and took the diamond-hard tip into his mouth. Vermillion whimpered and arched her back, giving him better access, and her fingers slid into his hair. She tasted like rose petals or silk or perhaps a little of both. She was trembling, clinging to him, making soft little sounds in her throat, and his arousal throbbed, grew even harder, pressed painfully against the front of his breeches.

He had to have her—and soon.

He took a breath and tried to slow things down, broke away for a moment, leaned over and picked up the blanket, spread it out on the grass at her feet. But when he turned to reach for her, Vermillion was backing away.

She had pulled the bodice of her gown back into place and was holding the jacket up in front of her breasts. "I-I have to get back," she said, her aqua eyes huge and liquid, looking for all the world like the innocent she often appeared.

"This is what you want," he said, his annoyance building, tired of playing the game. "We both know it. There's no need to pretend any longer."

Vermillion nervously moistened her lips, her gaze still wary. "Perhaps when the time is right but… not yet. Not today." Turning, she fled toward her horse, reaching down to pick up her bridle along the way.

Two long strides and Caleb caught up with her. Frustrated and furious, he snatched the bridle out of her hand. "Give me the damned thing. If you're determined to leave, I'll be happy to do it for you. That's what you pay me for, isn't it?"

Vermillion said nothing as he bridled the horse and knelt to remove the hobbles. But she pulled her jacket back on and began to button the front.

"I'll tell you what I ought to do," he said, turning to face her, his eyes hard and dark. "I ought to strip you out of those clothes and haul you down on that blanket. I ought to give you exactly what you've been asking me for, practically since the moment I got here."

Her eyes widened. Then her chin shot up. "I didn't ask you for anything, Caleb Tanner. You're a clod and a boor, and I was a fool for thinking you were anything else!" She grabbed the reins out of his hands and started leading her horse over to a fallen log.

She never quite got there. Caleb caught her around the waist and swung her up on the gray, slamming her bottom down hard on the saddle.

Her aqua eyes blazed. "You are… you are… the most infuriating man I have ever met!"

A corner of his mouth curved up. "I'm going to have you, Vermillion, and we both know it. The only question is how long you want to play the game."

An angry growl slipped from her throat. Whirling the gray, she set her small heels into the animal's ribs, jolting the horse into action, and started racing away.

Caleb watched her ride over the bill, velvet skirts rippling in the wind, red hair flying, thinking what a magnificent picture she made.

Wanting her more than ever.

He was still hard and aching. He reminded himself it was only a matter of time until he found relief. As he had said, he meant to have her.

Caleb felt the pull of a smile as she disappeared over a distant hill. Perhaps Newmarket would prove more interesting than he had imagined.

With renewed determination, he swung up on the back of the bay. Newmarket would come. In the meantime, he had other, more pressing matters to attend. As soon as he got back to the house, he would pen a note and ride to the village. He needed to send word to Colonel Cox.

He needed to discover what had happened to Mary Goodhouse.

9

« ^ »

The races at Newmarket were different from those at Epsom, where the racecourse was closer to London and attended in great numbers by the social elite.

The town of Newmarket was far more rural and though it was a major center for the sport, there were no grandstands and not nearly the fanfare that Epsom offered—though the populace of turfites, thimbleriggers, card sellers, and prostitutes was at least as large.

Men were the main spectators here, and a few women less concerned with creature comforts than the ladies in the city. In Newmarket, the races were viewed mostly from carriages parked along the perimeter of the course. They were lined up there already, some of the occupants wandering about, others spreading blankets on the grass beside their vehicles, where they laid out baskets of food and flagons of wine. It wouldn't be long before Aunt Gabriella and her party arrived to begin the day's festivities.

But Lee had come far earlier. Knowing Caleb would be there and considering what had transpired between them the last time they were together, it had taken all of her will to come to Newmarket. But Parklands' Thoroughbreds were her responsibility. Jimmy Murphy and the rest of the grooms would be expecting to see her and she didn't intend to disappoint them, certainly not because of Caleb Tanner.

She tried not to think of his hot kisses and arousing caresses in the meadow. If she did, she wouldn't be able to face him. In truth, instead of being embarrassed, she should be grateful. Caleb had provided her with her first real taste of passion.

Unfortunately, now that she'd had a glimpse of the world of pleasure she would be entering on her nineteenth birthday, she was more uncertain than ever. She had let Caleb kiss her, touch her as no man ever had, but the thought of another man taking those same liberties seemed completely repulsive.

She didn't understand it. None of the women of her acquaintance seemed to feel that way. They took their pleasure with whomever they wished and exclusivity wasn't a consideration.

Of course, Aunt Gabby was committed to Lord Claymont, but it hadn't always been so. In her wilder years, she had taken any number of lovers. Perhaps in some way Lee was different. Inwardly she worried it might be so. Even if it were, there was nothing she could do to change things or alter the course of her fate.

The stable loomed ahead, a large stone building surrounded by paddocks and stalls, humming with the hustle of grooms rushing to complete their tasks and the nicker and whinny of horses. Vermillion steeled herself for her inevitable encounter with Caleb and walked inside.

He was there in one of the stalls, brushing a big black gelding named Sentinel. He turned at her approach and her pulse surged with awareness. Dear Lord, the man could make her heart pound with merely a glance.

"Good morning," he said casually. "I see you've arrived safely."

She studied his face, trying to spot any trace of anger. She had worried that he would mock her in some way, but his expression was mild, even friendly, she noted with no little relief, and there was nothing in his manner that hinted at the intimacy they had shared.

"The journey passed quite pleasantly, thank you." She made a quick assessment of the black and a sorrel named Hannibal's Prize that would also be running. "It looks as if the horses also fared well."

Caleb slid the brush over Sentinel's glossy black coat. "According to Jack Johnson, the walker, they managed without a hitch."

They talked for a while of the race the animals would be running later that day, then she left to speak to each of the grooms. She praised Jack Johnson for taking such good care of the horses, then walked over to the jockey, Jimmy Murphy.

"What do you think, Jimmy? You and Noir seem to have been working well together. How do you assess his chances of winning against such a difficult field?"

Jimmy realized he still wore his flat felt cap and jerked it hurriedly off his head, exposing his rumpled bright red hair. "Noir's the best, ma'am. He's gonna win for sure and certain."

"What of Sentinel and Hannibal's Prize? Are they ready for this, do you think?"

"They don't have Noir's experience, o' course, but they're fast, ma'am. And they surely do like to win."

"Then let them," she said with a smile. "Sentinel runs best if he stays in the field until the last leg of the race. Hold him back until then." She flicked a glance at Caleb, who had walked up beside her. It felt a little harder to breathe with him standing so near.

"Just don't bury him," Caleb told Jimmy. "Keep him somewhere toward the front or outside of the pack. When you make the last turn, cut him loose. Sentinel will do the rest."

"And with Hannibal," Lee added, "don't go to the whip. He hates it. He'll draw back rather than move ahead. I imagine you've figured that out already."

"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Tanner done cautioned me on that."

"Good. As to the rest of it, listen to Mr. Tanner. He knows what he's doing." She didn't look at Caleb this time, but a blush crept into her cheeks. Caleb had known only too well what he was doing that afternoon in the meadow.

"Yes, ma'am," Jimmy said. "I surely will."

Jimmy left but Caleb remained where he was, just a few inches behind her. She could feel his solid presence and her pulse kicked up.

"He'll do a good job. Jimmy wants to please you." His voice softened into the same tone he used to gentle the horses. "I'd like to please you, too, Vermillion. I think we both know exactly the way I might do that."

Her cheeks burned. Her skin was tingling, her heart thumping. He wanted to please her and he knew exactly the way. Sweet God in heaven. She remembered the way he had feasted on her breasts, the fierce, searing pleasure, and suddenly felt hot all over.

"M-my aunt will be waiting," she said. "I have to go."

His mouth edged up. "Perhaps you'll need to come back a little later. This evening, perhaps… to talk about tomorrow's race?"

Oh, God. Her legs felt shaky, her mouth dry. "No, I… I don't think so. I have to go." She turned away from him and practically ran from the barn. Her heart was still hammering when she spotted Aunt Gabby's carriage. Wingate's vehicle sat behind it, and one belonging to Elizabeth Sorenson.

She took a deep breath and walked toward them, trying not to think of Caleb and hoping they wouldn't notice the heightened color in her cheeks. Lord, the man was a menace to the female population.

She forced a smile to her face and headed for the group ahead. Lord Claymont had not yet arrived, but he would get there soon. Women were mostly excluded from the masculine world of horseracing, the reason Parklands' Thoroughbreds raced under the earl's blue-and-gold colors, a ruse that fooled no one but satisfied the rigid lines of conduct established by the powerful Jockey Club.

She joined the group in Aunt Gabby's carriage, but her thoughts remained on Caleb and the heat in his eyes and what it did to her when he looked at her the way he had in the barn. Thank God, the races were getting ready to start, a match race, first, between two rival owners, then heat-racing, where the horses that won each heat then raced against each other. Several sweepstakes races were to follow, events that would include Sentinel and Hannibal's Prize. Noir wouldn't be racing until day after the morrow, when the Newmarket Gold Cup was scheduled to be run.

By the end of the afternoon, Sentinel had won his race and Journey had finished third in another. Parklands' Thoroughbreds had made a very good showing thus far and the big race was yet to come.

"My, what a day," Aunt Gabby said laughing. "You can be proud of yourself, darling. Whether you get credit or not, you have proved yourself a worthy opponent."

Vermillion didn't care whether her name appeared on a sweepstakes' cup. She cared about the horses and watching them run. "It isn't the most important thing, but it does feel good to win. I cannot deny it."

Later that night, she attended the party Aunt Gabby threw to celebrate the day and didn't get to bed until nearly dawn. She was exhausted. Her feet ached from dancing for so many hours and her head hurt from too much champagne. She slept far longer than she intended and woke up grumpy and out of sorts.

"I hate being late," she grumbled as she traveled with Jeannie to the racecourse later that morning in one of the open carriages. "It makes a bad impression on the grooms." Since none of their horses would be racing today, the rest of their party remained at the house her aunt had rented—most of them still abed.

"I need to speak to Jimmy Murphy," she said. "Go over a few things concerning tomorrow's race."

"The boy will be 'ere—'e adores you for letting 'im race. And that new trainer will be here as well. What was 'is name?"

Vermillion ignored a faint leap of her heart. "Tanner. Caleb Tanner."

"Oui… now I recall. 'E is very handsome, n'est-ce pas?" Jeannie cast her a glance. The woman had been her maid and her companion for years. Jeannie knew her well, better even than her aunt. Lee prayed Jeannie didn't suspect that Caleb was the man she thought to take as her first lover.

"I suppose he is attractive… in a rather basic fashion."

"The man is built like a stallion, no? I have seen him working. All those beautiful muscles and those eyes… so dark and hot."

"I'm afraid I haven't noticed."

Jeannie said no more, but her lips curved in a knowing smile Lee purposely ignored. There was no way her friend could know for certain and this was one subject Lee didn't intend to discuss any further.

Fortunately they were nearing the racecourse and Jeannie's attention fixed on the colorful sights and sounds. The coachman parked the carriage in the shade of a plane tree and Lee set off to make a check of the horses.

As she had expected, the animals were being well cared for. Caleb was a conscientious head groom, as capable as Jacob had been, perhaps even more so. But as she wandered through the barn, stirring up dust motes and inhaling the scent of new-mown hay and freshly oiled leather, she saw no sign of him.

She spoke to Jack Johnson and a small blond boy named Howie Pocock, now the youngest of Parklands' grooms.

"I'm looking for Jimmy. Do you know where he might have gone?"

" 'E went off wi' Mr. Tanner," Howie said. "I ain't exactly sure where they went, ma'am."

"Thank you, Howie. I'll just have a quick look round." With the races yet to start, she wandered out of the barn in search of them, wanting to be certain everything was in place for tomorrow's all-important Gold Cup Race.

Perhaps they're in another one of the buildings, she thought, not seeing Jimmy or Caleb among the grooms or trainers milling about.

Deciding to take a shortcut between two low-roofed wooden structures that housed other owners' horses, she was halfway down the narrow path when a man stepped out of the shadows along the wall. She hadn't noticed him when she entered the path. If she had, she would have gone the longer way round.

"Top o' the mornin', luv." He smiled down at her and she wished she hadn't left her bonnet in the carriage. She wasn't wearing one of her low-cut gowns, but his hazel eyes slid over her as if she were. "Looks like today's me lucky day."

There was something in that too-bold glance that set warning bells off in her head. "Excuse me. I'm afraid I've made a wrong turn somewhere." Turning round on the path, she started back the way she had come. At the sound of his footfalls in the grass behind her, she quickened her pace, but a big hand closed over her wrist and he spun her back to face him.

"What's yer hurry, luv?" His eyes wandered again, fixed on the roundness of her bosom. "Surely, ye've a minute or two ta spare." He was a young man, blond, big through the shoulders, not unpleasant to look at, though his clothes were badly worn, his hair shaggy at the nape of his neck, and he badly needed a shave.

"I'm sorry, sir, I have business to attend. Please let go of my hand." Angry at herself for wandering off on such a deserted path, knowing there were blacklegs and sharpers about, she tried to pry lose her hand.

"Me name's Danny," he said, his hold going tighter. "I'm pleased ta make yer acquaintance." A glance up and down the narrow space between the buildings confirmed that she was alone and he started hauling her toward him. "Yer a fetchin' little baggage and no mistake. I can see ye don't come cheap, luv, but me blunts as good as the next man's." He held up two pieces of silver. "What ye say, lass? A quick tumble before ye go on yer way?"

Lee swallowed as realization dawned. Good Lord, he thinks I'm a doxy! She was hardly that and she never would be. What a courtesan did was different, her aunt had always said. She was the one in control, the one who did the choosing. It meant both pleasure and freedom. It was not in the least the same.

"My friends are waiting." She tugged on her wrist. "I have to go." She jerked harder, but he didn't release her.

Instead, he stuffed his free hand into the pocket of a pair of worn breeches and pulled out another coin. "Ye drive a hard bargain, luv, but I wager yer worth it."

She started to tell him she wasn't interested in his money but he moved so quickly, she only got out a squeak before she was flat on her back beneath him, his heavy weight pressing her into the grass between the buildings.

"Let… me… go," she said between panting breaths, truly angry now, shoving against his chest to dislodge him, trying to suck in a breath of air. "I'm not a… doxy… you fool! I don't want your money!"

Still gripping her wrist, which he dragged above her head, he dropped the coins into her palm and closed her fingers around them, then started to shove up her skirt. For the first time, real fear shot through her.

"Let… me… go!"

Instead she felt one of his hands groping her breast. She could feel his hardness pressing into her stomach and the edge of fear blossomed into fullblown panic. She tried to scream, but he muffled the sound with a wet, sticky kiss. She gagged, tried to turn her head away, and the bristles on his face roughly abraded her cheek. She struggled harder, tried to dislodge him as one of his callused hands slid up her thigh; then he started working the buttons on the front of his breeches.

Desperate now, she bit down hard on his lip and tasted the coppery flavor of blood.

"Ouch!" The jovial expression faded from his face. He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. "Lit'le tart. I'll swive ye now and keep the blunt. I'll learn ye ta toy with Danny Cheek."

The sounds she made were muffled by the hand that covered her mouth and another of his breeches' button's popped free. She started fighting again, tried to bite him, tried to twist free, but he was big and strong and his heavy weight pinned her in the grass.

"Let her go." The familiar voice was soft with deadly warning, and hearing it now sent a wave of relief rushing through her so strong she felt dizzy. She turned her head enough to see him, standing a few feet away, his legs braced apart and his hands balled into fists. "I said, let her go."

Danny Cheek's big body tightened. Then his heavy weight lifted away as he slowly gained his feet. Tears of relief clogged her throat. Caleb was here. Everything was going to be all right. With shaking hands, she sat up and pulled her dress down, covering her garters and stockings. Using the wall of the building for support, she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet.

A short distance away, the two men faced each other as if they meant to tear each other limb from limb. The blond man's face was a fiery shade of red and she had never seen such fury in Caleb's dark eyes before.

Something shifted in the blond man's expression. He cast her a glance, then shrugged as if the matter were no longer important. "Ye want her that bad, me friend, ye can have her." Reaching down, he picked up the coins she had left in the grass and turned to leave, but at the very last instant he spun back.

Lee screamed at the powerful blow he unleashed at Caleb, who ducked the impact as if he had known it was coming and threw a hard punch in return. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of the blond man's mouth. Caleb's second blow landed with such force it knocked Danny Cheek clear off his feet. He hit the ground with a grunt and his head whacked hard against the wooden wall of the building. His eyes rolled up inside his head and his face went slack. He didn't move so much as a muscle.

The last of her fear disappeared, leaving her limp and shaken. Caleb remained exactly where he was, feet still braced and his hands still fisted. A slow breath whispered from his lungs and he lifted his gaze to her face.

Caleb frowned as he started walking toward her. She didn't realize she was crying until he hauled her into his arms.

"It's all right. I've got you."

She leaned into the heat of him, the solid feel of his body. "I'm sorry. I just—"

"It's all right," he repeated, smoothing back a curl that had come loose from its pins and drooped beside her ear. "He's not going to bother you again."

Her fingers curled into the front of his homespun shirt. She tried to stop shaking but she kept thinking of what might have happened and fresh tears stung her eyes. Caleb just held her, pressing her into the warmth of his chest.

"I wasn't… I wasn't frightened at first, but then… then I couldn't make him stop and I couldn't get away." She dragged in a shaky breath, but she didn't let go and neither did he.

Instead his hold seemed to tighten. "It's over." She felt his lips against her hair. "It was just a mistake. There's nothing more to be afraid of."

She nodded, hung on to him a few moments more, absorbing the feeling of safety that was unlike anything she had felt before. Caleb was different. She knew that in some deep, elemental part of herself. He was nothing at all like the other men of her acquaintance. As maddening as he could be, he always seemed to be there when she needed him.

She took another deep breath and straightened away from him, forced herself to move away. "Thank you, Caleb. I don't know what would have happened if—"

"The man was an idiot. It's over and you're safe. That's all that matters." He flicked a glance at the figure crumpled against the wall, then settled a hand protectively at her waist and started leading her away. Behind them, she heard the blond man groan and begin to move in the grass, but she didn't think he would follow. The murderous look in Caleb's eyes had warned what would happen if he did.

Caleb stopped in a spot out of sight behind a hedgerow and turned her to face him. He caught her chin to examine the beard scratches on her cheek, then took out a handkerchief and wiped away a smudge of dirt beneath her ear. With a softly muttered curse, he stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket and she realized he was still angry.

"I can't believe you went off by yourself that way. You know the sort of men who frequent places like this. What the hell were you thinking?"

She swallowed, tried not to be intimidated by the hard look in his eyes now directed at her. "I was looking for Jimmy. I wanted to make certain everything was set for tomorrow's race. I knew I had made a mistake the moment I saw the man on the path but by then it was too late."

His features didn't soften. "You're still shaking, dammit. I would think in your line of work, you'd be used to dealing with a man's unwanted advances."

He was speaking to Vermillion, but it was Lee who had nearly been ravished—mistake or not. Her chin went up. She hoped it didn't tremble. "Sleeping with one's lover is scarcely the same as being forced to the will of some low-moraled gutter rat. I should think even a man like you would understand that."

She turned away from him, trying not to think what had almost happened, determined not to let him see how upset she really was. She started hurrying along the hedgerow, desperate for a moment to compose herself, to become Vermillion again, but the sound of Caleb's boots, pounding through the grass behind her, told her she wasn't going to escape.

Lee whirled to face him and he must have noticed how pale she was, for he hesitated only an instant before he pulled her into his arms.

"I'm sorry, dammit. When I saw you struggling with that big blond oaf, something inside me just snapped." She felt his chin on the top of her head. "Howie told me you'd gone off to look for Jimmy. When he showed me which way you went, I was afraid you were in for trouble." He held her away from him. "Don't ever do that again, you hear me?"

Lee looked up, caught his fierce black scowl, and began to smile. She was his employer, the woman who paid his wages. Only Caleb Tanner would have the cheek to give her orders. And yet she found his concern oddly endearing.

His scowl went even blacker. "You think it's funny? You were manhandled and very nearly raped and you think it's funny?"

She shook her head, fighting a grin. "I don't think it is the least bit funny. I do, however, find your audacity amusing—considering I am the one who is supposed to be giving the orders. And I am extremely touched by your concern. Thank you again, Caleb. I shall not forget what you did for me today. And I will remember to be more careful in the future."

The scowl slid away, but the worry remained. "This isn't a place for a woman alone, Vermillion."

The smile she wore softened. "Lee," she said to him gently. "My friends call me Lee." Then she turned and walked away.

The day of the Gold Cup arrived and Vermillion, along with her aunt and several carriages filled with gaily dressed members of their party, left the house and headed for the racecourse. Though a bright sun beat down on the row of coaches lining the course, a stiff wind rattled the flags and banners set out along the distance the horses were set to run.

Seated in the carriage today, next to Colonel Wingate, Vermillion watched the colorful spectacle and the jockeys milling about in the bright silks of their owners' stable: the scarlet and blue of the Earl of Winston, the impressive green and gold that signified the Duke of Chester, the familiar purple-and-white silk of the Earl of Rotham.

Vermillion could see the countess in a coach farther down, seated across from the earl, their attendance together done occasionally for the sake of propriety. Next to Vermillion, across from her aunt, Colonel Wingate leaned toward her.

"It's nearly time, dear one. With your permission, I'd like to place a wager in your name." The colonel looked splendid in the full regimental uniform of the Life Guards, gold epaulets sparkling on his scarlet coat. "I've spoken to your aunt," he said, smoothing his black mustache. "If Noir wins the race, I intend to host a party tonight in celebration."

She smiled. "That would be lovely, Colonel." Sometime over the past few days, she had eliminated Wingate as a candidate for protector, but in typical military fashion, the colonel refused to concede the battle.

"And the wager?" he pressed.

"I should be pleased to accept." Wingate was a favorite of Aunt Gabby's, a close chum of Lord Claymont's since boarding school. Perhaps that was the reason Aunt Gabby had spoken on the colonel's behalf in regard to his suit as her protector.

"The man is a well-respected officer, darling. Oliver is intelligent and kind, if a bit stuffy at times. And you can see the man adores you."

He adored the notion of bedding her, Vermillion thought, besting men years younger and thereby proving his virility. But she was no longer interested in the colonel and she didn't think that would change. Like the horserace soon to start, she had narrowed the field to Mondale and Nash, and as her birthday neared, it was a neck and neck drive to the finish.

Wingate's aide, Lieutenant Oxley, spoke up as the colonel rose to leave. "Shall I take that for you, Colonel? The betting post is just there, beyond the trees." The lieutenant, a young man in his twenties with sandy hair and hazel eyes, also wore his very impressive scarlet uniform. Though the lieutenant wasn't particularly good-looking, there was a sweet sort of shyness about him that somehow made him attractive.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Wingate handed him a pouch of coins and instructions on how much of a wager to place for each of them.

Oxley departed and Vermillion fidgeted on the seat, eager for the race to begin.

Caleb Tanner appeared at the edge of her vision, walking toward her with the same erect bearing as the colonel, a fact she had noticed before. Beside him, a shorter man in a dark gray tailcoat and light gray trousers tried to match Caleb's long-legged strides.

Both men stopped in front of her and the grim look on Caleb's face put her on alert. "I'm sorry to bother you, Miss Durant, but this is Constable Shaw. He's here on a matter of some importance."

He was a lean-faced man beneath the high beaver hat he removed and clutched in one hand, his features tight and drawn. She whipped her eyes back to Caleb for some sign of why the man had come, but his expression remained unreadable and suddenly she knew.

Her insides drew into a painful knot and her hands started shaking. Lee rose unsteadily to her feet, praying she was wrong. "If you all will excuse me…"

"What is it, darling?" Aunt Gabby asked worriedly.

"I-I'm not yet certain."

The colonel stood up beside her. "I shall accompany you, dearest. We'll discover what this is about."

Lee stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Colonel, but I would prefer to speak to the constable in private."

Wingate flicked a glance at Gabriella, who simply nodded, accustomed to her niece's independence, having encouraged it for as long as Lee could recall.

Wingate made a stiff inclination of his head. "As you wish, my dear."

Turning away from him, Lee descended the carriage stairs and walked to where Caleb and Constable Shaw stood waiting beneath the shade of a tree far enough away so they wouldn't be overheard. It occurred to her that she should send Caleb away, as she had done the colonel, but her heart was beating with fear and she wanted him to stay.

"I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Miss Durant," the constable said, "but this concerns the matter of a Miss Mary Goodhouse."

She steeled herself and tried to remember to breathe. "Have they… have they found Mary then?"

"I'm afraid so, Miss. Unfortunately, late in the evening on the night before last, Miss Goodhouse was found floating in the Thames."

Lee swayed on her feet, suddenly light-headed. She clenched her teeth as a wave of nausea hit her. Caleb's big hand settled at her waist and she held on to his arm until the spots dancing before her eyes disappeared.

"Take a deep breath," he said softly. She took several, in fact, and the nausea began to recede. "Better?"

She nodded. "Yes… thank you." She tried to smile but her lips refused to curve and she had to force back tears. "It is just such a shock, is all. I had hoped… prayed that Mary had simply gone off with a friend, or perhaps was trying to reach Freddie Hully, the man she loved."

The constable turned the brim of his hat in his hand. "It appears that wasn't the case. I hate to be indelicate, Miss Durant, but the fact is a murder has been committed and we were hoping you might be able to shed some light on the crime."

Murder. The word swirled through her head with all of its horrible implications and the nausea returned. "I'll help in any way I can."

He cast a glance at Caleb, whose jaw looked hard, then started speaking again. "Her body appeared to have been in the water for some time, which leads us to believe she may have been killed the night she went missing."

Lee's fingers tightened around Caleb's arm. "You are… you are absolutely certain it was murder? It couldn't have been some sort of accident?"

"As I said, she was in the water for quite some time, but the marks on her throat were clear to see. We believe she was strangled, then thrown into the river in the hope she would simply disappear."

Lee trembled, but Caleb was there and his closeness became her anchor. "Dear God, poor Mary."

"Is there anyone you can think of, Miss Durant, who might have wished to do her harm?"

Lee shook her head. "No, I-I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt dear Mary."

Caleb turned her to face him. "You told me she had previously worked at Parklands. Did she have any sort of disagreement with anyone there? Another member of the staff, or perhaps even one of the guests?"

"No. Everyone liked Mary. The housekeeper came to me in her behalf when she found out Mary was with child." Lee glanced up, her stomach roiling again. "Oh, God, the babe." Tears came then, a sudden rush of them that clogged her throat and spilled onto her cheeks.

"That's enough for now," Caleb said to the constable, keeping her close at his side. "Once she's had time to think things over, perhaps she'll be able to come up with something that will be useful."

Like everyone else, the constable did as Caleb commanded.

"I shall speak to you again after your return to Parklands," said Constable Shaw. "Again, I am sorry for your loss."

She nodded, dashed the tears from her cheeks with the tip of her glove, and looked up at Caleb. "I can't go back to the carriage just yet." She gazed in that direction, saw the others laughing. "I can't simply forget poor Mary and pretend the death of a servant is unimportant." She looked up at him, hoping he would understand. "I can't be Vermillion—not today."

Caleb nodded. "I'll tell your aunt you are feeling unwell and need to return to the house. It isn't that far. There's a wagon parked behind the stalls—I can take you there myself. The Gold Cup won't be run until later in the day. I can be back here before it begins."

She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. "Thank you."

They spoke little as the wagon rumbled along the dirt road leading to the big Tudor mansion her aunt had rented. Lee tried not to think of Mary and the babe, but in the end, she couldn't help it.

"What could have happened?" she asked softly. "Why would she go off like that in the middle of the night? Why would she risk herself and her unborn child that way?"

On the wooden seat beside her, Caleb flicked the reins, setting the horse into a trot and jolting the wagon forward. "Whatever the reason, it must have been important."

"Yes…" Lee agreed. "Very important to Mary."

10

« ^ »

"Be at ease, Captain Tanner."

"Thank you, sir." Caleb relaxed a little, though his back remained straight, his feet braced slightly apart. Standing in front of the colonel's desk, he waited as Cox reviewed the latest report Caleb had sent him in regard to the death of the maid, Mary Goodhouse.

Cox set the letter aside. "Since your return from Newmarket, have you spoken to the girl, Vermillion, in this regard?"

"I've questioned her as much as I dared. She says Mary was well-liked and had no enemies she knew of She believes the boy, Freddie Hully, the father of Mary's unborn child, is no longer in England and that even if he were, he wasn't the sort to commit a violent crime."

Cox leaned back in his chair, silver hair freshly barbered and shining. "So tell me, Captain, what do you think happened to the girl?"

"I wish I knew. No one saw her leave that night and no one knows where she went. It could have been simple bad luck, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Walking up on a crime, perhaps, something like that."

"It could be, but you don't really think it was."

"No sir, I don't. There had to be a reason she left the house at that hour in the first place."

"So you believe there is a chance she was somehow involved in the spy ring working out of Parklands."

Caleb clasped his hands behind his back, trying to appear nonchalant. "So far we have yet to prove there is a spy ring working out of Parklands."

The colonel opened a file on top of his desk. "Actually, it would seem we have recently managed to do so." He lifted out a sheet of foolscap and handed the paper to Caleb. "Three days ago, a man was apprehended near Folkstone on the coast. The sheriff had heard rumors of smuggling in the area and he was on alert. When he took the suspect into custody, he found a satchel containing a number of letters. Those letters carried information about General Wellesley's troop movements in Spain."

A knot of tension coiled in Caleb's stomach. He finished scanning the page and handed it back to Cox, who returned it to the file.

"I don't believe it is necessary to discuss the methods we employed," Cox said. "It is enough to say the courier was convinced to divulge his sources. He said he knew only one thing—the documents he was transporting were originally picked up in a small village near Kensington on the outskirts of London. The name of the village was Parkwood."

Parkwood. The knot in Caleb's stomach went tighter. It was the tiny village closest to Parklands. Just a few shops, a market square, a church, and a tavern called the Red Boar Inn. Inwardly, he cursed. He had been hoping…

"We'll send a man to keep watch in the village," Cox said, "but trying to keep track of every servant and guest coming and going from the Durant house is a nearly impossible task."

Cox leaned back in his chair. "So what of the girl and her aunt? Are they behind this, do you think?"

Caleb straightened a little beneath the colonel's regard. "As much as it now appears that Parklands is somehow involved, I don't believe the younger Durant is the traitor we're looking for."

"Based on what, Captain Tanner? The time you've spent in the woman's bed?"

His mouth edged up. "Sorry, sir. So far I've failed my duties in that regard. I speak merely from observation, Colonel. And from instinct. It has served me well in the past."

"Based on your outstanding service record, I would have to agree. What about the aunt? Gabriella Durant has any number of connections with the French."

"Unfortunately, I've only been in her company a couple of times and we've yet to have any sort of conversation. She doesn't ride and rarely comes out to the stable. If I had access to the house, perhaps—"

"Actually, we're working on that now. Until we find a way to bring you in closer contact, you'll have to do the best you can from your position as trainer and groom."

"Yes, sir." At least in that he had been successful. At Newmarket, Noir had won again.

The colonel rose from behind his desk. "Keep a sharp watch, Captain."

"I will, sir."

"I'll let you know if we turn up anything new on Mary Goodhouse."

"Thank you, sir."

Leaving by the rear entrance through which he had entered, Caleb walked out of the colonel's Whitehall office and into a dismal London day. Inwardly, he replayed the conversation he'd had with Cox, including the confirmation that Parklands was likely involved in passing information to the French.

Thoughts of Vermillion rested heavily on his mind. He tried to imagine her a traitor who slept with men to gather information, but the picture wouldn't gel. He hoped his instincts, always reliable in the past, were on track again in this.

"So how'd it go in there?" Major Mark Sutton, his helmet clamped beneath one arm, walked up as Caleb headed away from Whitehall.

"The news about Parklands wasn't good. Looks like something is definitely going on, but I imagine you already know that."

He nodded. "Cox called me in as soon as the report on the courier arrived. Looks like the Durant women are in it up to their pretty little necks."

Caleb shook his head. "Not necessarily. My instincts tell me the younger Durant has no idea what's going on, but of course I can't be sure. I'll keep after it. Maybe something will turn up."

"I gather you haven't bedded the wench yet."

Caleb felt a flicker of annoyance. He could have told Sutton he intended to do just that. All he had to do was wait till the time was right. But for reasons he couldn't completely fathom, he didn't want the major or anyone else to know what went on between the two of them.

"As far as I know, Vermillion isn't involved with anyone at present—and that includes me."

Sutton paused on the paving stones. "I suppose that's going to change on the night of her birthday."

Caleb stopped, too, an odd heaviness creeping into his chest. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Sutton pulled a watch fob from the pocket of his jacket. "I've got to run. Got a meeting with one of my contacts."

"Is that how we caught the courier? One of your contacts told you the man was coming through that night and you fed the sheriff some cock-and-bull story about smugglers?"

Sutton smiled. "Let's just say, I'm a handy fellow to have around."

Caleb watched the major walk away and wondered what the man would turn up next. Whatever it was, he hoped it didn't involve Vermillion.

He thought of her as he made his way out of the city, riding along a back road toward Parklands. Trying to figure her out was frustrating, to say the least. The more he was around her, the less he understood her. It was almost as if she were two different people: the mysterious courtesan Vermillion he rarely saw in the stable but half the wealthy men in London spoke of with a kind of awe and a number claimed to have bedded; the other a pretty young woman with a generous nature and an air of innocence and lack of guile Caleb found wildly appealing.

It had to be some kind of game he didn't yet understand, though something told him it was crucial that he did. He needed to discover the woman she really was, to slip past her defenses and see inside her head. Seduction seemed the answer.

Caleb wished he didn't look forward to the notion with quite so much relish.

Dark clouds rolled overhead and the air smelled of mud and damp leaves. The rhythmic clop of the horses' hooves disappeared beneath the low groan of thunder. A storm was moving in. Seated inside the elegant Durant barouche next to Jeannie, Lee straightened the skirt of the black bombazine gown she had worn to Mary's funeral and removed the matching black bonnet, hoping they arrived back at Parklands before the sky opened up and the deluge began in earnest.

She set the bonnet on the seat between her and her maid and perhaps she sighed, for her aunt's silver-blond head came up from the book she had been reading.

"My poor darling." She closed the book and set it on the seat beside her. "I know how terrible all of this has been for you, but it wasn't your fault. You did everything you could to help poor Mary."

Lee stared out the window, saw a distant flash of lightning. "I suppose I did. I just wish it had been enough." Both Aunt Gabby and Jeannie had accompanied her to the simple graveside service at the parish church near the house in Buford Street. Helen, Annie, Rose, and Sarah were there, and yet she had felt unbearably alone. Insanely she wished that Caleb could have been there, but the thought was so absurd she pushed it out of her head.

"I keep thinking about her. I don't understand it. Why would she leave the house in the middle of the night? Why would someone want to kill her?"

"Whatever the reason, it had nothing to do with you. You need to put it behind you, darling. In time, perhaps the constable will be able to apprehend the man who killed her. Until then, there is no use torturing yourself."

Jeannie sat up straighter on the seat beside her. "Oui, I 'ope they catch 'im. I would like nothing so much as to watch 'im 'ang."

"I wish I could tell them something useful, something that would help." But she couldn't. She had no idea why Mary had left the safety of her home, whom she might have been meeting, or why.

"The matter is in the hands of the authorities," Aunt Gabby said. "It's their responsibility to see Mary's killer brought to justice."

But no matter how many times her aunt continued to remind her Mary's death was not her concern, the questions kept whirling round in her mind. By supper she had a pounding headache. She ordered a tray sent up to her room and stayed awake thinking about Mary until late into the evening.

It was well past midnight and still she couldn't fall asleep. Finally giving in to the restless energy she couldn't seem to shake, Lee shoved back the rose silk counterpane and climbed down from her big four-poster bed. Pulling a yellow quilted wrapper on over her night rail, she paused to light a candle, then headed downstairs, thinking that perhaps a glass of milk would help her to fall asleep.

The house was quiet, the kitchen empty. As she walked toward the windows at the rear of the kitchen, she caught the glow of a lantern burning at the far end of the stable. Old Arlie and the rest of the grooms would be asleep in their quarters in the opposite end. She hesitated only an instant before she blew out the candle, set it down on a long wooden table, and turned toward the door.

She knew what drew her, knew that it was Caleb she needed to see. She wanted him to hold her as he had done before, to speak to her in that soft way of his and ease her troubled thoughts.

As she walked toward the yellow glow of the lantern, drawn like a moth to a flame, she knew she faced that same kind of danger. Caleb wanted her. He had made his desire more than clear. But when she thought of Mary and how short life could be, thought of her birthday little more than two weeks away, she no longer cared.

She had almost reached the far end of the barn when she saw a man's tall figure move out of the shadows beside the lantern and snuff out the flame.

"Caleb… ?"

The man turned at the sound of her voice, but did not speak. For several long moments, he said nothing and she thought that she was mistaken and the man was someone else, a traveler, perhaps, who had wandered in off the road seeking shelter from the approaching storm.

"It's late," he said softly. "You should be in bed."

Relief and a warm sort of awareness trickled through her. She walked quietly toward him, close enough to look into his face. For a moment, the dark clouds parted. In a sliver of moonlight slanting in through the window she could see the faint roughness of his late-evening beard, the hard line of his jaw, the reflection of lamplight in the centers of his eyes.

She stopped in front of him, the ache inside her growing, the need, the yearning for him to open his arms as he had before and pull her protectively against him.

"I couldn't sleep. I saw the lantern burning. I thought…"

She saw him move in the darkness, closing the short space between them. "I'm glad you came." She felt his fingers encircling her wrist and then he was leading her forward, down to the far end of the barn and into the small room he occupied, opening the narrow wooden door and drawing her in.

He closed the door and left her for a moment. She heard him moving in the darkness, the sound of flint striking tinder, then a candle flared and his shadow appeared on the wall. The room, she saw, was tidy, the narrow bed perfectly made, the blanket on top carefully tucked in. A bowl and pitcher perched on top of the bureau at the side of the room and a ladder-backed chair rested in the corner. A pair of brown breeches were neatly folded on the seat and a pair of worn, high-topped leather riding boots sat on the floor beside the chair.

"Welcome to my humble abode." His smile was faint, his dark eyes intent. The slight curve of his mouth slipped away altogether as he looked at her standing there in her nightclothes.

She glanced down at her yellow quilted wrapper and tried not to feel self-conscious. "I know I shouldn't have come but I…" She shook her head, her voice trailing off a second time. What could she tell him? That she needed him? That somehow he had become important to her? That Mary's death continued to haunt her and he was the only one who might understand.

"But you what?" he pressed, standing close again, moving so quietly she hadn't heard his footsteps on the rough wooden floor.

She glanced away, uncertain now, thinking that perhaps she should simply turn and leave, go back to the house and her empty room.

She felt his fingers on her chin, turning her to face him. "I know why you came, Vermillion—we both know—even if you aren't ready to admit it."

Framing her face between his palms, he lowered his head and his mouth came down over hers. It was the gentleness that surprised her, the unhurried claiming, little more than a brush of lips. There was mastery in the kiss, a promise of things to come, yet his lips were so soft they seemed to melt into her own, to blend and sink into a perfect union.

Slow heat enveloped her. Warmth slid into her stomach, seeped out through her limbs, seemed to wrap around her. The kiss went on and on, a coaxing, lingering, mind-numbing kiss that took and gave and seemed to have no end. He teased her lips apart and his tongue slid in, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. Her breasts swelled beneath the heavy quilted wrapper and her nipples tightened, turned sensitive where they rubbed against her cotton nightgown.

Caleb's tongue entwined with hers and heat washed over her. He kissed her one way and then another and her legs began to tremble. She clutched the front of his full-sleeved shirt and kissed him back, wanting to please him, using her own tongue as he had done. Caleb groaned into her mouth and his arms came around her. He kissed her even more deeply and the trembling in her legs moved through the rest of her body.

She had tied back her hair before retiring. Caleb slipped the ribbon from the end, then combed his fingers through the heavy dark red curls, spreading them around her shoulders. The quilted wrapper magically slipped away. The little pink bow closing the drawstring at the top of her nightgown fell beneath the skill of his hands. The opening parted and he slid the garment off her shoulders and down over her breasts. Caleb kissed her as it pooled in a soft heap at her feet.

He drew back to look at her and she could feel the heat of his eyes burning into her. She resisted the urge to cover herself but only just barely. Caleb leaned over and kissed her again. He trailed kisses along her jaw and she felt the warmth of his mouth on the skin beneath her ear, the glide of hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder. One of his big hands cupped a breast and he started to knead the fullness, to shape it into his palm.

A wave of pleasure washed through her. Goose-bumps raced over her skin. He kissed his way to her breasts, bent his head and took one into his mouth, and the fire he had kindled roared into a blaze. His mouth was like hot, wet, silk and everywhere he touched her seemed to burn.

Lee clung to his powerful shoulders, feeling the tension there, no longer able to think, no longer caring, filled with desire and every moment sinking deeper under the spell he wove around her. She slid her fingers into the silky dark hair curling at the nape of his neck, and her head fell back, giving him better access to her breasts. Caleb tended one and then the other, sucking them into his mouth, laving and tasting, tugging on the ends. He left them swollen and aching, her heart pounding savagely and her body filled with a longing unlike anything she had known.

"Caleb…" she whispered, her hands trembling as she slid them beneath his shirt, desperate to touch him as he was touching her. Reaching down, he dragged the garment over his head and tossed it away, and in the flickering light of the candle she could measure the breadth of his shoulders, see the indentations that marked his ribs, the deep contours of muscle shadowed by the flickering candlelight. A thatch of curly brown hair spread over his chest and arrowed down to his waist and her fingers inched to know the texture, to discover the feel of it against her skin.

Caleb pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again. As he had rightly guessed and she had only suspected, she had come to him for this, come so that he could guide her in this joining of a man and woman that was destined to become part of her future.

His hands skimmed over her body, moving lower, cupping the womanly place made to receive him. She was wet, she realized as he began to touch her there, slick and hot and ready to accept him inside her. She thought that he would move to take her, but instead he began to stroke her, parting the folds of her sex, caressing her lightly, slowly, then penetrating more deeply, his fingers sliding into her again and again.

The flames returned, hotter than before, the craving so strong it was nearly pain. She hadn't known, though she should have suspected. Should have guessed from the women's whispered words and knowing glances, but until now, until Caleb, she hadn't imagined the clawing need, the scorching desire a man could ignite in a woman.

She made no protest when he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to his narrow bed, just slid her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder, trusting him to guide her. As he settled her on the blanket and began to remove his breeches, her eyes widened at the heavy part of him straining upward against his belly. He was long and thick, like the stallion she had seen with the mares. But she knew that a woman was made to accept this part of a man, and that a man was often measured by the length, breadth, and hardness of his shaft. If that were so, Caleb was quite a man.

She closed her eyes as he came up over her, parted her thighs with his knee and settled himself between her legs. He could feel her trembling, she knew, but he wouldn't guess her secret, not yet. Aunt Gabby had woven the web of deceit too well, sparing her the boundaries she would have faced if her innocence had been suspected, protecting her behind a curtain of mystery that had made her one of the most sought after women in London.

He was kissing her breasts again, laving the tips with his tongue, making them quiver and tighten. A faint whimper came from her throat and she tangled her fingers in his hair.

"I want you," he said. "God, Vermillion, I want you so much." He covered her mouth with his, kissed the side of her neck. When he started to repeat her name, she pressed her trembling fingers over his lips to stop the words.

"Not tonight, Caleb, please. Tonight, won't you please call me Lee?"

Something shifted in his features. She wasn't sure what it was, but when he kissed her again, the gentleness was gone. It was a fierce, claiming kiss, a wild, possessive kiss, and pleasure streaked through her, hot and wet and almost painful in its intensity. She clung to his shoulders as he eased her legs even farther apart and she felt his hardness begin to slide inside her.

She thought she would be afraid, but she felt no fear, only a sense of joy and an odd feeling of pressure that continued to expand, filling her with a powerful need to join with him. He pressed himself deeper, but as slick and wet as she was, he couldn't seem to fit.

For the first time, worry struck. Dear Lord, perhaps she was too small. Perhaps something was wrong with her. Perhaps she truly was different from the rest of the women.

"Caleb… ?"

"You're so damned tight." Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead. "I didn't expect…" He kissed her hard. Kissed her deeply and thoroughly until she was wetter still and desperate for him to take her. He thrust his tongue into her mouth at the same instant he drove himself hard inside her.

Her body spasmed, tightened in pain, and a cry tore from her throat.

Caleb went utterly still. He looked down at her and she saw the confusion, saw the instant he realized what had just occurred. "It can't be. No." He shook his head. "It isn't possible."

Lee barely heard him with the little sobs creeping out and her eyes filling with tears.

"Goddammit! What the hell is going on?" He wrenched himself so violently out of her body, pain shot through her again.

She tried to struggle free of his heavy weight, but Caleb pinned her to the bed. He propped himself on his elbows and held on to her wrists. "You can't be a virgin. It's impossible. You're Vermillion. You've had countless lovers."

"I'm Lee," she whispered, hating herself for the mess she had made of this. "I won't be… won't be Vermillion till the night of my birthday."

Caleb stared down at her, his dark gaze turbulent. "I don't believe this." Swearing a silent oath, he released her wrists, rolled onto his side, and gathered her into his arms. "God, why didn't you tell me?"

Lee hung on to him, wishing she had done just that. "I was afraid to. I didn't know what you would think."

He clenched his jaw and said something she couldn't quite hear. "How badly did I hurt you?"

She loved the feel of his arms around her, felt grateful for them. She shook her head, tried to smile. "The pain is gone. I'm told it only hurts the first time."

He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled it. "I thought I knew why you came here tonight. Now I'm not so sure."

She rested her head on his chest, comforted by the steady rhythm of his heart. "You were right. I came for this. I wanted a man of my own choosing. I wish I had pleased you, Caleb, and I know that I did not."

He caught her chin with his fingers. "You pleased me. Just by coming here, you pleased me. By choosing me as that man. I only wish I'd known. Now that I do, I'm not sure—"

"Please, Caleb. I want this."

He sighed into the dimly lit room, raked his damp hair back from his forehead. "We'll just have to take things slower. I'll make it good for you, Lee, I promise." Bending his head, Caleb leaned over and very softly settled his mouth over hers. It was another of his slow, languid, unhurried kisses and the heat he had stirred before flamed up and licked through her limbs.

He touched her as he had before, his fingers sliding inside her, stretching her and preparing her to accept him. He didn't stop until she was writhing on the bed, flushed with desire, and begging him to take her. He slid into her more easily this time, filling her completely, yet the pain never surfaced, only the craving, the wild, uncontrollable yearning.

Beneath him on the narrow bed, her restlessness grew and her body shifted against the heavy fullness inside her. Unconsciously, her back arched upward, thrusting her breasts into his chest. She pressed her mouth against his skin, felt the heat, tasted the slick, damp, saltiness of it, circled his flat copper nipple with her tongue, and heard him groan.

He went still for a moment, trying to hold himself in check, working to regain his control. Then he started moving again, easing himself out, then driving deep once more. Slow and easy, muscles straining, drawing out the pleasure. His movements grew faster, his hips flexing, driving him deeper still. The rhythm increased, enveloped her, the heavy thrust and drag, the fullness, the pressure against her womb, the heat and the need and the overwhelming sense of urgency.

Then her body suddenly tightened and a wave of pleasure tore through her. Little shivers rushed over her skin. Tiny pinpricks of light seemed to burst behind her eyes. Her insides tingled and she cried out Caleb's name.

"That's right, love. Let yourself go."

She heard a roaring in her ears like the wind through the trees and her body seemed to fly apart. "Caleb!" She bit down on her lip as pleasure speared through her, sweeter than anything she could have imagined. She clung to Caleb's neck as he pounded into her, taking her hard, unable to stop himself. An instant later, his body went rigid, his muscles tightening. He tried to withdraw, but she wasn't ready for that and she gripped his hips, felt the wetness of his seed spilling inside her. His head fell back and a low guttural groan filled the quiet of the room.

For long moments, neither of them spoke. Eventually their heartbeats slowed and Caleb shifted a little on the mattress, then lay down on the blanket beside her, fitting her back to his chest spoon-fashion in the narrow bed.

He toyed with a lock of her hair. "I can't believe it. You were a virgin." He smoothed the strand between his thumb and forefinger. "In God's name, why did you pretend to be something you were not?"

Lee sighed into the darkness. "It's hard to explain, Caleb." She turned onto her back so that she could look up at him, into the dark eyes he fixed on her face. "I told you once before—I'm a Durant. It's my destiny to follow in the footsteps of my grandmother and aunt."

In the moonlight, she saw a muscle tighten along his jaw. "You were a virgin," he stubbornly repeated. "Why would you choose that sort of life?"

Lee turned toward him, wound her arms around his neck. "Please… I don't want to talk about this now." She pulled his head down and gave him a feather-soft kiss. "You want me," she whispered. "I can feel how hard you are."

"I get hard every time I look at you. If you hadn't been so innocent you would have figured that out long before this."

She flushed but didn't look away. "My birthday isn't that far off. We won't have much time together. I want you to make love to me again."

Several emotions flickered in his eyes, but the heat was clear to see. He kissed her deeply, then a corner of his mouth edged up. "I suppose, since you're my employer, I'm compelled to do as you say."

Lee closed her eyes as he came up over her, filling her again. Very slowly, he started to move inside her. Clinging to the muscles across his shoulders, she let him sweep her into the world of pleasure that he had shown her before.

She didn't linger when they finished this time, just got up from the narrow mattress, walked over and silently began to pull on her clothes. She could feel Caleb's eyes on her, watching her from the bed.

"Make me understand, Lee." His deep voice drifted across the small, low-ceilinged room. "Tell me why you would sacrifice your life, your future, as you are planning to do."

She only shook her head. "You wouldn't understand."

She heard the rustle of fabric as he sat up on the edge of the bed and wrapped the blanket around his waist. "It wouldn't have anything to do with loyalty, would it? Some sort of patriotic sentiment you still feel toward France? I know your family came from there."

She frowned as she pushed her arms into the sleeves of her nightgown and tied the drawstring at the neck. "I don't know what you mean."

Caleb shrugged. Bare-chested, he tucked the top of the blanket in to hold it up and started walking toward her. In the moonlight, she noticed a fine tension in the muscles across his shoulders.

"I've heard rumors," he said. "There are people who say you and your aunt hold certain loyalties toward the French. It would certainly be understandable if you were willing to sacrifice yourself in order to collect information that might be helpful—"

"If you are saying what I think you are, that is completely insane. I was born in this country—so was my aunt. We both love England. This is our home. Every time we read in the papers how many of our men have died, how many have suffered at Napoleon's hands, we are heartsick. As for any loyalty I might feel toward the French—for God's sake, Caleb, a number of my family died by the guillotine. England gave us refuge. How can you possibly doubt our loyalty?"

Caleb said nothing for several long moments, but his eyes ran over her, taking in her defiant stance, the way her small hands fisted, the flush of color in her cheeks, and the tension slowly ebbed from his shoulders. He stood in front of her, barefoot and bare-chested and so handsome it made an ache rise in her throat.

"Why then?" he said softly.

Lee glanced away, unable to hold his penetrating gaze a moment more. "Because it's what Aunt Gabby wants. Because I owe her and I can't repay her in any other way. Because she loves the life she lives and through me she can continue to live it. Because I don't want to return her years of kindness by making her believe I feel disdain in any way for the life she has chosen."

Caleb said nothing. He stood so close she could see the dark centers of his eyes, read the turbulence there. Then his big hands framed her face and he bent his head and very softly kissed her.

"Don't go yet," he said. "There are hours before dawn. I'll make sure you're back in the house before anyone wakes up and finds you missing."

She knew she should go. Every moment she spent with Caleb put her in peril. Love. It was the greatest danger a woman could face. Mary had suffered for it. Her mother had suffered for years and died with a broken heart that had never mended.

Lee looked up at Caleb, knowing the risk, knowing part of her heart already belonged to him. Willing to accept the risk, even if it meant losing an even bigger portion during the short time they had together.

Caleb took her hand and carried it to his lips. She didn't resist when he lifted her up and carried her across the room, back to his narrow bed.

11

« ^ »

Mounted on the big bay gelding named Duke, Caleb rode toward the village of Parkwood. It was early afternoon, the first chance he'd had to get away. The village wasn't far. As he approached from the south, he could see roofs and chimneys in the distance. He passed a wagonload of hay and the driver waved a greeting. A pot-seller's wagon rumbled along ahead of him, its cargo clanging and clattering as the vehicle dipped and swayed behind the donkey struggling to pull its heavy load. Caleb barely noticed.

He was on his way to the house on the opposite side of town that belonged to Cyrus Swift, the silversmith who carried messages for him to London. The one he needed delivered today concerned Vermillion.

Since he had awakened her from a deep sleep snuggled beside him, Caleb hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. Over and over, he replayed the night they had shared, which was nothing at all as he had imagined and one he would never forget. As he reined the horse off the road onto the lane leading to the silversmith's house, one thing was clear: Vermillion hadn't been selling her body to gain information.

Until last night, she had been a virgin.

Several different emotions filtered through him at the thought, none of which he completely understood. His desire for her hadn't lessened as he had believed it would. Instead, every time he recalled her small body sweetly gloving his shaft, he got hard all over again. He wanted her even more than he had before, and thoughts of her upcoming birthday, knowing she planned to give herself to another man, sat like a crushing weight on his chest.

He wasn't sure what he meant to do, but letting another man touch her, make love to her as he had done was something he refused to let happen. He had to do something to change the tide of events about to be set in motion and Caleb believed he might have found a way.

Riding into the yard of the silversmith's whitewashed, thatched-roof house, he swung down from the bay. The place looked a little forlorn with its window boxes untended and weeds growing up between the bricks in the walkway leading to the entrance. He banged on the wooden door, considering his plan, praying his instincts were right about Lee Durant and knowing how much he had to lose if he were wrong.

Knowing how much England had to lose.

"Captain Tanner! Please, come in." Cyrus Swift was a slight man with fine bones and refined features. His hair was as silver as the craft he had perfected and his smile was genuine and always exceedingly warm. "Its good to see you. Could I offer you a glass of cider or perhaps some elderberry wine?"

Caleb shook his head. "No, thank you, sir. I can't stay long. I said I had an errand in the village but they'll expect my immediate return."

Swift nodded, though Caleb could see he would have liked the company. "Come then." Swift motioned him into the parlor, a room that had once been cozy and well-cared for, with bright floral slipcovers on the sofas and ruffled curtains at the windows. But Mrs. Swift had passed on last year and the signs of a bachelor household had begun to surface.

A stack of old newspapers sat in a haphazard pile on a piecrust table near the hearth. The curtains drooped and the rugs could have used a good beating. A Swift-made silver tea service sat on a tea cart near the door, but the pieces were tarnished.

"There's pen and ink on the desk. I believe you know the way."

"Yes, sir." Caleb had been to the house on several occasions to send or retrieve a message.

Following Cyrus farther into the parlor, he went over to the small oak writing desk along the wall, drew out a piece of foolscap, and plucked the quill pen out of its silver holder. He scratched out a note requesting a meeting with Colonel Cox as soon it could be arranged, then signed it, Respectfully, Captain Caleb Tanner.

"I shall see it delivered today," Swift promised.

"If it's at all possible, I'd like you to wait for a reply."

He nodded. "As you wish."

"Thank you, Mr. Swift. Your help in this has been invaluable."

"It is the very least I can do, Captain Tanner. I lost my eldest son, James—God rest his soul—ten years ago in the Netherlands Campaign. My youngest boy is a corporal in the 95th Infantry. I have no wish to lose him, as well."

"No, sir. With the help of people like you he'll have a far greater chance of staying safe."

Swift walked Caleb to the door. "I'll leave the reply in the usual spot in the barn, Captain."

"Thank you again for your help, Mr. Swift." And then he was gone.

Caleb had no idea what Colonel Cox would say when he heard the idea Caleb had come up with, but the army needed someone inside the house, someone close to the occupants, someone they could trust. Caleb prayed the colonel would see the merit in his plan.

Laughter echoed through the house. Servants hurried about beneath the weight of heavily laden silver trays. Food and drink sat on linen-draped tables and champagne flowed like water. The guests were all enjoying themselves but to Vermillion, the house party seemed endless.

In a gown of emerald silk, daringly low-cut and embroidered in fine gold thread across the bodice, she wandered from room to room, smiling and nodding and pretending an interest in the various conversations around her. In truth, all she could think of was Caleb and that she had gone to him last night and the two of them had made love.

She wasn't an innocent anymore. She had given herself to a man and not one of those she had vowed to choose as a lover, but Caleb Tanner, Parklands' head groom.

Her pulse leaped just thinking about it. She remembered the way he looked standing there naked, his hard body bathed in a shaft of moonlight streaming in through the window of his tiny room. She could see the wide bands of muscle across his chest and the sinews in his legs, remember the power and strength of him, pressing her down into the mattress.

Warm color rose in her cheeks as she thought of her response to his ardent lovemaking, like some wild creature freed at last from its bonds by the skill of his hands.

More disturbed than she wanted to be, Lee left the drawing room, escaping into the library for a moment's respite from the crowd, closing the tall, ornate doors behind her. She was sitting in the window seat, staring out at the garden when she heard a sound across the room.

"Vermillion?" The familiar voice drew her attention to the doorway. "What on earth are you doing in here by yourself? Everyone is looking for you." Her friend, Elizabeth Sorenson, stood framed in the opening.

"It's all right, Elizabeth. I just needed a moment alone. I'll return to the party in a moment."

Elizabeth surprised her by closing the tall doors behind her, the sound echoing into the quiet as the countess began to walk toward her.

"What is it, Lee?" she asked. "You haven't seemed yourself lately. Your aunt has been worried and so have I." With her short, curly black hair, slender build and long legs, Elizabeth's timeless beauty was marred only by the worry on her face.

Lee forced herself to smile. "Why in heaven's name would you be worried, Beth? I am perfectly fine."

"I realize your birthday is very near," Elizabeth said gently. "You've promised to choose a lover, but perhaps you are simply not ready."

Not ready? She wondered what the countess would say if she knew Lee had already chosen a lover, that even now she yearned for him, that she wanted him to make love to her again.

"It has to happen sooner or later," Lee said. "You know as well as I, marriage lies nowhere in my future. I said that I would choose and so I shall."

Elizabeth's frown only deepened. "There is certainly no rush. Aside from the fact you could start to live your life on your own terms, there is no real urgency. Gabriella knows how independent you are. She thought you would appreciate the chance to truly become your own person, but perhaps it would be better if—"

"If what, Beth?" She got up from the window seat and walked toward her friend. "Perhaps it would be better if I waded through another dozen men? If I attended another hundred of my aunt's tedious parties? In the end, the result would be the same."

"But surely—"

"I appreciate your concern, Beth, I truly do, but my aunt is right. It is time I made a life for myself and that is what I am going to do." She managed to muster a smile. "And it is also time I joined Aunt Gabriella and the rest of her guests."

"They are your guests, too, Lee. They are your friends as well as your aunt's."

"Are they?" She lifted her gaze to Elizabeth's lovely face. "Aside from you and a handful of others, most of them are people I scarcely know. They are here to be charmed by La Belle. As for Vermillion, she is merely a curiosity. They are fascinated by the mysterious persona my aunt has created. They have no desire to know the woman inside, the woman behind the mask she wears." Turning away, she started once more for the door.

"Dearest, wait—"

But Lee kept walking, out of the library and down the hall. She meant to return to the others—she truly did—but as she spotted Colonel Wingate striding down the hall in her direction, saw Andrew Mondale walking toward her the opposite way, she turned instead and hurried up the stairs.

"Vermillion, my beauty—where are you going?" Mondale's voice floated up behind her. "Come down and join the party."

Vermillion turned and smiled. "Shortly, Andrew, I promise." And she would, she told herself, in just a little while. Reaching the safety of her room, she closed the door and leaned against it. Her chest felt as if a boulder pressed upon it and her stomach felt queasy.

For the first time, she realized exactly how much trouble she had brought upon herself. "Oh, dear God—what am I going to do?" Tears burned her eyes. She had to go back downstairs, had to continue her charade—for her aunt and perhaps, as Aunt Gabby believed, for herself But after making love with Caleb, she was no longer certain she could continue in the role she so desperately needed to play.

Turning away from the door, she walked over to her rosewood dresser, poured water from the porcelain pitcher into the basin, and washed the rouge and rice powder from her cheeks. She wiped away the color on her lips and rang for Jeannie, who appeared in her bedchamber a few minutes later.

"Mon Dieu! What are you doing?"

"Help me get out of this, will you? I'm having trouble with the buttons."

Jeannie looked at her aghast, stunned by her freshly washed face and half-undressed appearance. "You cannot possibly mean to disrobe. The party… it is not yet midnight!"

"I don't care what time it is." She tried to reach the buttons at the back of the gown, determined now, desperate to escape. "I have to get out of here."

"Dieu du Ciel—you 'ave gone completely mad." But the slender woman stepped in and took charge, quickly dispatching the buttons and helping her slide out of the emerald silk gown. As soon as Lee was free of her garments, she went over to her armoire and pulled open the bottom drawer. A pair of men's breeches and a white linen shirt, carefully folded, lay on top. In minutes she was dressed and dragging on her riding boots.

"I cannot believe this," Jeannie grumbled as Lee pulled the pins from her hair and shook her head, unseating the heavy red curls. She quickly brushed them out, then clipped the curly mass back on the sides with little mother-of-pearl inlaid combs.

"Look at you. What if someone sees you? "

"No one is going to see me. I'm going down the back stairs." She turned, caught her friend's hand. "I need this, Jeannie. I have to get out of this place—just for a little while."

Her friend looked into her face. Whatever she saw made her eyes go wide. "Nom de Dieu! It is the man you spoke of. You 'ave given yourself to 'im!"

Lee glanced away, embarrassment only one of the dozen emotions she felt. "It doesn't matter. Nothing can change what's going to happen the night of my birthday."

"Oh, chérie, if I had believed making love with this man would make you so unhappy, I would 'ave begged you not to do it."

"I'll be all right, Jeannie. Women make love to men every day—no one knows that better than we do. I just need a little time to straighten things out in my head. The party will go on most of the night. I'll be back before it's over."

Jeannie said nothing and Lee turned away. Pausing at the bedchamber door, she checked to be certain no one was about, then hurried down the hall to the servants' stairs. Making her way out a little-used door leading into the garden, she raced off toward the stables.

The night was warm and clear, the moon shining down and lighting her way. Caleb would likely be in the stable and part of her desperately wanted to see him. Another, saner part never wanted to see him again.

A soft wind blew through the branches of the trees as she followed the path to the big stone building that housed Parklands' valuable Thoroughbreds. The lanterns had all been snuffed out, the grooms retired for the night.

Moving quietly, she disappeared into the darkness inside the barn and made her way along the row of stalls. Spotting Grand Coeur's gray head watching her over the top of stall, she grabbed a bridle off the rack and moved in the horse's direction. Coeur made a soft, nickering sound as she slipped the bridle over his ears and led him from his box.

The open fields beckoned. No one had seen her leave the house or discovered her in the stable. Not quite sure whether she was disappointed or relieved that Caleb hadn't appeared, she urged the horse out of the barn and into the pasture. As soon as they had traveled a safe distance away, she nudged Grand Coeur into a gallop.

In need of an outing as much as she, the stallion stretched out beneath her and together they raced off toward the freedom of the open fields.

Beneath a waning moon, Caleb rode the big bay gelding back toward Parklands. He was returning from a trip to the village. The reply Cyrus Swift had received from Colonel Cox rested in his saddlebags.

Caleb shifted on the flat leather saddle, thinking of the words scrolled on the note. Before dawn on the morrow, he had been ordered to collect his belongings, leave Parklands, and return to London. Jacob Boswell would be resuming his job as trainer and groom. Caleb was instructed to say nothing of his departure to anyone—including and especially not Vermillion or Gabriella Durant.

It wasn't the answer he had expected. He wasn't sure why Cox had ordered his immediate return, but he still held hope the colonel would at least consider his plan. Caleb's message had only made very brief mention of what he had in mind. Tomorrow in London he would fill in the missing details.

It was clear and warm, a soft breeze ruffling through his hair as he rode at an easy gallop back to collect his things. He tried not to think of that same breeze drifting through his window last night, cooling his heated skin as he made love to Vermillion, but thoughts of her haunted him. She was there in his mind when he crested the top of a hill and spotted a rider on the grassy slope below.

Caleb pulled rein, drawing the bay to a halt in the shadow of a wide-spreading yew tree. Below him, first running hard, then slowing to a leisurely gallop, Grand Coeur's dappled coat glistened like silver in the moonlight.

He recognized the petite, confident rider.

Caleb felt an instant leap of his pulse. Last night he had taken her innocence. He had made love to her three times in the small room he occupied in the stable and would have had her again if they had awakened in time. Just thinking about her made him hard, made him want to ride off the hill and drag her down from her horse, made him want to strip away her clothes, haul her down on the grass, and bury himself inside her.

He watched her from his place on the knoll, wondering where she might be heading, suspicious for a time, worried that he had been wrong about her. But it soon became apparent she had no destination, that her meandering course led mostly in circles and her moonlight ride was nothing more than that.

He thought about the hours he had spent with her last night and the fact that she had been a virgin. There was no denying the truth, no way to pretend the blood on her lovely pale thighs hadn't been a result of what he had taken from her.

Perhaps it wouldn't have happened if he had known the truth.

Or perhaps he was lying to himself and the desire to have her would have been so strong he would have taken her just the same.

As he watched her turn the gray and ride into a copse of trees, Caleb nudged Duke into a gallop and rode off down the hill. As soon as she saw him, she drew rein, pulling Grand Coeur to a halt beneath the overhanging branches of a tree.

"Caleb! What… what are you doing out here?"

He shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant, feeling not the least that way. "The same as you." He swung down from the bay and looped the reins around the trunk of the tree. "I couldn't sleep. I thought maybe a ride would help."

Reaching up, he lifted Vermillion down from the gray and tied the stallion's reins to a tree a few feet away. "You've a house full of guests. There were so many candles blazing it looked like the place was on fire. I figured you'd be busy entertaining." Busy with Mondale or Nash or one of the other men who danced to her tune. He tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, but didn't quite succeed.

Lee seemed not to notice.

"I was there for a while." She sat down on a fallen log and Caleb sat down beside her. She looked beautiful tonight in her simple white lawn shirt and brown breeches. She had left her fiery hair unbound and the thick curls glowed like burning coals in the moonlight. The powder was gone from her face and he thought he caught the faint track of tears.

"What is it, Lee? Why did you come out here?"

She gazed off toward the low grass fluttering in the wind, forming patterns in the fields. "I don't know if I can go through with it, Caleb. I know I have to, but I don't know if I can."

His chest felt heavy. He knew exactly what she meant. He wasn't sure he could let her, even if it was what she wanted. "You're talking about the decision you're supposed to make the night of your birthday."

She nodded.

"Because of what happened between us last night?"

She looked up at him. A hint of kohl still outlined her eyes and they looked huge and blue-green in the moonlight. "In a way, I suppose. Until last night, I never understood what it would be like to make love… how much of yourself you give to a man. I never realized that every touch brands you, steals something from you. That when you take a man inside you, it's like… it's like giving him a piece of your soul."

She stared past him over the rolling hills and he thought how beautiful she was and how her words touched him.

"I don't suppose you would understand," she said, looking back at him. "I'm sure it's different for a man."

Was it different? In the past, he had bedded any number of women, all of them more than willing and almost none of them worth remembering. Some he paid for their trouble, nameless, faceless women he left behind in alehouses and far-off military encampments.

But what of the woman who sat beside him? Lee was different from the others he had known, a combination of innocence and sensuality that made him want her as he never had another. She was more independent than any woman he had ever met and at the same time helplessly trapped in a life she couldn't seem to escape. He thought of her day and night and wanted her endlessly. Just sitting so close had him hard and aching to be inside her.

Perhaps he had given Lee Durant a piece of his soul as well.

Caleb didn't much like the thought.

"What happened between us, Lee, it was special. Never doubt that."

She made no reply. Perhaps she didn't believe him. If he didn't come back, it was probably better that way.

"In less than two weeks," she said, "everything in my life is going to change."

On her nineteenth birthday. The thought squeezed something inside his chest. "Listen to me, Lee. There's no law, no commandment that says you have to choose a protector that night or any other. You don't need the money. You don't have to invite Mondale, or Nash, or anyone else into your bed. You don't have to become Vermillion. You could stay the way you are. You could just be Lee."

She raised her eyes to his and he could see regret reflected there. "I have to do it. It's the only way. My aunt loves her life, Caleb. She loves the parties and the endless attention. She's getting older. Her beauty is fading. I know how much it bothers her, how much she wants things to stay the same. If I become Vermillion, Aunt Gabriella can live on through me."

"You don't owe her that, Lee. No one owes anyone that much."

"You're wrong. I owe her everything. When my mother died, I was left completely alone. I was four years old when the lady who owned the cottage we lived in left me at the orphanage. She didn't know how terrible that place was—no one knew. They beat us, Caleb, for the slightest infraction. They locked us in the cellar with the rats if we did something wrong. There weren't enough blankets and not enough food. If Aunt Gabby hadn't come… if she hadn't taken me home with her, I would have died in that place, I know I would have. I loved her the moment she lifted me into her arms and she loved me. I would do anything for her, Caleb. Anything to see that she is happy."

"Tell her, Lee. Tell her the way you feel."

"How can I? I'm not even sure myself. Perhaps she is right, perhaps the freedom of a life like hers is worth whatever it costs."

He didn't believe it. Not for an instant. "You could have a husband, Lee, a family. That's something every woman wants. It isn't fair that you should have to give those things up."

Her eyes locked with his and there was something in them he had never seen before.

"Is that a proposal, Caleb? Are you asking me to marry you?"

His stomach instantly knotted. For several long moments he simply sat there. The thought of marriage had never entered his mind. She was Vermillion, a courtesan. But after last night, he, more than anyone, knew it wasn't the truth.

He cleared his throat, needing time, groping for something to say. "What kind of a life would you have with a man like me?" He knew she was thinking he meant as the wife of a groom, but he was thinking of a man dedicated to war, one who would soon be returning to Spain.

Her features shifted, seemed to close up. She tossed her head and a brittle little laugh came from her throat. "What sort of life, indeed. Not the sort I am used to, that is for certain. You're a groom. A groom doesn't ask his employer to marry him and even if he did, it would hardly be seemly to wed one of the servants."

A muscle tightened in his cheek, though why he should be angry eluded him. He wasn't proposing, and even if he were, Vermillion would never marry the groom he pretended to be. She wouldn't give up her luxurious way of life for a man so far beneath her.

His mouth curved up, but his smile held no warmth. "You're right. A man like me is only good enough for a tumble or two before it's time to move on to someone more suitable. Was that it, Vermillion? You needed some instruction before you sold yourself to Mondale or Nash?"

Color washed into her cheeks. "That isn't true."

"Isn't it?"

She leaped up from the log and whirled toward her horse, but Caleb stepped in front of her, blocking her escape.

"Get out of my way."

"Are you sure that's what you want? We've time for another quick tumble. Perhaps you'll learn something new that might prove useful."

She jerked her small hand free and drew back to slap him, but Caleb caught her wrist. "You managed that trick before. You don't want to do it again."

"Let me go." She struggled as he hauled her against him.

"I don't think you want that any more than I do."

She pressed her palms against his chest but she was half his size and she hadn't a prayer of dislodging him. Bending his head, he captured her mouth in a rough, demanding kiss, anger riding him hard. Lee fought him for a moment, but he just kept kissing her and slowly the kiss began to gentle. He kissed her the way he had last night and little by little her struggles slowly ceased. Her hands moved over his chest, up around his neck, and her fingers tangled in his hair.

Leaning into him, she kissed him back as wildly as he was kissing her. Caleb groaned. He was achingly hard, hungry for her, ready to take what she now wanted to give him.

Instead, she eased a little away. "I gave myself to you because it was you that I wanted, Caleb. I care nothing for Mondale or Nash, or anyone else—surely you know that by now. I can't bear the thought of them touching me, making love to me as you have. I can't imagine giving myself to another man the way I have given myself to you."

Caleb read the pain in her eyes and his chest constricted. Damn them. Damn them all to bloody hell

He cursed her aunt and the others for what they were doing to her even as he cursed himself for what he had already done. Reaching out, he framed her face between his hands, settled his mouth over hers, and very softly kissed her. She tasted like expensive champagne and smelled like night-blooming flowers, and heat slid into his groin. His shaft lengthened, thickened, hardened till it was painful. His pulse ricocheted skyward and desire exploded in his blood.

They made love on the soft green grasses behind the trees. Spreading his shirt beneath them, he lay down on his back and settled her above him. At first she seemed surprised that they could make love in this way. He watched her teeth sink into her bottom lip as he lifted her a little and eased her down on his shaft, her body gloving him so perfectly he groaned. It didn't take her long to realize the power he had given her and soon she began to ride him, gently at first, then moving faster, taking him more deeply, absorbing the pleasure.

His own pleasure swelled with each of her movements. As she bent her head and kissed him, lifted herself then took him fully again, he palmed her bare breasts. Silky red hair teased his chest and he fought not to lose control.

They reached their peak together, her soft cry filling the night. A few minutes later, he rolled her onto her back and took her again, more gently this time, determined to make it good for her.

Afterward, spent and sated, they lay together in the grass, watching the moon drift by overhead. Tomorrow he would be leaving, but he could not tell her. He thought how much he had come to care for her, this innocent, free-spirited young woman, and wished that he could change things, wished there weren't so many secrets swirling around them.

It was essential that someone get inside the house.

Caleb prayed his plan would work and he could return.

And that Lee would forgive him if he did.

12

« ^ »

Dear Lord, she had spent another night making love with him! It was late morning now. She had only been away from him a few hours and yet she longed to see him again. It was madness, insanity, but she could not seem to help herself.

Lee thought of Caleb and her growing feelings for him and nervously bit her lip. When a knock sounded at the door, she was grateful for the distraction.

"I am sorry to disturb you," Jeannie said, "but your aunt wishes to see you. She is worried that you are unwell."

Suffering a hint of madness, undoubtedly, but otherwise very well indeed. "Tell her I am fine. I had a bit of a headache last night, but it is gone this morning."

Instead of leaving, Jeannie stepped into the room and quietly closed the door. "You said that you would return last night, but you did not come back until early this morning. It is not safe for you to be out there by yourself."

And even less safe to be with Caleb. Lee glanced away. "I wasn't in any danger and even if I were, I can take care of myself."

One of Jeannie's brown eyebrows went up. "Ah, no—you were with 'im! Oh, chérie, do you know what you risk?"

"As I said, I can take care of myself."

"Are you certain of that?"

Was she certain? She had never been less certain of anything in her life. And yet she knew she was doing exactly what she wanted.

She reached over and caught her friend's hand. "Listen to me, Jeannie. There isn't much time left before my birthday. I want these last two weeks for myself."

Jeannie sighed. "It is my fault this 'as 'appened. I never should 'ave encouraged you. I do not know what I was thinking."

"No, Jeannie, you were right. I don't believe I shall ever feel this way about another man. I might never have understood what it is like to truly experience passion." And love. As much as she wished to deny it, she knew she was more than half in love with him.

"Be careful, chérie. You know this cannot continue. I do not wish to see you hurt."

But that was bound to happen and Lee knew it. Once she had chosen a protector, she would be leaving Parklands, bidding a last farewell to Caleb Tanner.

Then again, perhaps Caleb would be the first to leave.

An uneasy feeling settled over her. There was something in his manner last night as he bade her farewell. She wasn't sure what it was but even now the uneasy feeling remained.

It stayed with her all through the morning, and after a light breakfast of cocoa and biscuits with her aunt, she headed straight for the stable.

"Good day ta ye, Miss Lee." Arlie shuffled toward her down the corridor in the middle of the barn, his spine bent but a smile on his wrinkled face.

"Good morning, Arlie." She glanced around for Caleb, but didn't see him.

" 'E's gone, Miss. Took off sometime afore dawn. Left ye this note, 'e did. Found it on a nail in front of Grand Coeur's stall." Arlie dragged a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his breeches and held it out to her.

Her heart was thundering. She could hear the pounding in her ears. Reaching out, she took the note and broke the drop of candle wax he had used for a seal.

Lee,

A problem has arisen and I am called away. Jacob will be returning to resume his duties on the morrow. Perhaps we shall meet again.

Your servant, Caleb Tanner

Her heart beat painfully as she read the note again, searching for some hidden meaning, some small word that told her what they had shared had meant something to him, that leaving her wasn't what he wished to do. But there was nothing of comfort in the message.

She surveyed his parting words, Your servant, Caleb Tanner. No man had ever been less of a servant and of course Caleb knew it. It was the sort of closing a gentleman might use, but Caleb wasn't a gentleman.

Or was he?

There had always been things about him that simply did not fit. His speech was that of an educated man, his manners those of the upper classes—along with his arrogance. Perhaps he was a highborn man, fallen heavily into debt and running to avoid debtors' prison. Perhaps he had done something worse. Whoever he was, she had cared for him greatly and now he was gone, casting her aside as if she had meant nothing to him at all, leaving only a brief note of farewell.

Lee's heart filled with a weighty despair. She had tried so hard not to love him, but part of her was deeply in love and that part would never forgive him. She told herself it was better this way, better he was gone and she could go on with the life laid out for her.

Crumbling the note in her hand, she swallowed past the tight knot in her throat and ignored the sting of tears. Caleb was gone. That part of her life was over.

Vermillion tossed the paper into the waste bin and vowed not to think of Caleb Tanner again.

The afternoon slipped past and the hour grew late. The moon slid away, disappearing behind a cover of dense black clouds that boded rain. A heavy mist hung over the earth, dampening the long black woolen cloak draped over the woman's shoulders. Beneath the hood, her hair was damp, and fine strands clung to the nape of her slender neck.

She didn't like being out on a night like this. As she walked the narrow path toward the village, every shadow seemed a villainous creature ready to spring out of the darkness, and the damp, spongy ground distorted the sounds in the inky night.

It didn't matter. She had to see him. He would expect her to have something for him by now and she didn't want to fail him.

They were meeting at their usual place in the village, a small attic room above the Red Boar Inn. They never spoke at the house. It was too dangerous, he said, people might see them. It didn't matter. She didn't mind slipping away, even on a night like this. Not for him. And here she didn't have to share him.

He was waiting as she climbed the outside stairs along a shadowy wall protected by dense gray-green ivy. Standing in the darkness lit only by a single tallow candle, he was as attractive as he had been the first time she had seen him, more so with each passing year. His eyes ran over her, surveying her from head to foot, and she smiled at the gleam of interest that appeared in his eyes.

"You look extremely fetching tonight, my sweet."

She blushed and smiled, pleased that he seemed to approve of the new blue muslin gown she'd had made with the money he had given her the last time they were together.

He eased back the hood of her cloak, then pulled the drawstring and removed the wet garment, draped it over the back of a wooden chair.

"The gown suits you. It brings out the color of your eyes." The room was small and stark, with only a slatted bed and nightstand, a dresser with a chipped basin and pitcher, and the lone wooden chair. Perhaps that was the reason his elegant figure seemed such a powerful force.

"I 'ave learned something," she said with her soft French accent. "It may be important. I knew you would wish to 'ear it as soon as it could be arranged."

He moved closer, till she could smell a hint of brandy on his breath and his expensive cologne. "I thought perhaps you had simply missed me." His hands were encased in butter soft kidskin. He tugged on the end of each finger, slowly removing the gloves, then he tossed them onto the seat of the chair. "I was hoping you might wish to continue where we left off the last time we were here."

The last time they were there. A little thrill went through her. She hadn't forgotten. She never forgot the brief hours she'd spent with him. "I always wish to be with you. It 'as been far too long since we are together."

He reached up and stroked her cheek and her insides trembled. All he had to do was look at her and she melted a little inside. His hand encircled the nape of her neck, drew her toward him. He reached out, cupped one of her breasts, squeezed it, gently at first, then harder, just to the point of pleasure-pain.

She sucked in a breath, unconsciously tried to draw away, but he pulled her back and his touch turned gentle. He stroked her nipple through the bodice of her gown and pleasure washed over her again.

"What have you brought me?"

She told him what she had learned, knew by the slight curl of his lips that she had pleased him. She knew the taste of those lips, knew the feel of them moving over her body, knew the sweet, unbearable excitement they could bring.

But first she would give to him. He had come to expect that now and she would never disappoint him. When he rested his hands on her shoulders and gently urged her down, she knelt in front of him. She waited while he opened the front of his breeches and freed himself, admired the length of him, the hardness that would soon be inside her.

She knew exactly how to please him. She felt his fingers on the back of her neck, holding her immobile as she took him into her mouth. She had told him something of value and in return for her loyalty, soon he would make her his.

Once this was over and his job was complete, they would go away together, leave this country, travel to a place they could live together in luxury and peace.

She thought of those things as his body tightened and he spilled his seed, then drew her to her feet. He brought her hand to his lips, then led her over to the bed. Soon he would be ready to make love again and if he used her a little roughly she didn't care. As long as she could be with him, she would give him anything he wanted.

And he would see to her pleasure as well.

"Tell me," he commanded. "Say it." Reaching out, he cupped her breast, massaged the fullness, pinched the end.

She told him what every man wanted to hear and especially this one, that he was what she needed, fully aroused and embedded deeply inside her. The words seemed to please him. It was always better when she pleased him, and it seemed she had done so tonight.

He took her hand, pressed it against the front of his breeches, and she could tell that he was hard. A little shiver went through her as she turned her back so that he could help her remove her gown, then he paused to remove his own clothes.

Soon you will be mine, she thought, enjoying the sight of him naked. Soon I will have you all to myself. She smiled as he drew her down on the bed, leaned over, and kissed her. Sliding himself inside her, he slowly began to move.

Four days had passed since Caleb had left. As he had promised in his emotionless note, Jacob Boswell had returned that same day to resume his job as trainer and groom. In the time that had passed, Lee had become surprisingly adept at banning Caleb Tanner from her thoughts.

As angry as she was at his callous departure, she could scarcely fault him for his lack of feelings. He had never spoken of love nor even mere affection. He had wanted her, nothing more. It was a simple case of lust.

Lee wished she had been able to keep her own emotions as carefully contained. Instead, on the rare occasion she allowed herself to think of him, she felt a sharp sting of longing. She reminded herself she had known from the start her time with Caleb would be brief. If the unlikely circumstance occurred that she found herself with child, she would manage without him. That also, she had known.

At least he hadn't lied to her.

She thought of the women in the house on Buford Street, all of them abandoned by men who professed to love them. And, of course, there was her mother.

Though Vermillion could barely recall her face, she knew her mother had suffered from abandonment and shame. Angelique Durant, the daughter of a courtesan, had fallen hopelessly in love with a nobleman. The man, heir to one of the most powerful titles in England, had rashly spoken of marriage, and Angelique had been foolish enough to believe him. When she learned of his betrothal to another woman, she had been devastated.

One of Lee's few early memories was of her mother sitting on a bench in the garden, sobbing uncontrollably. Years later, Aunt Gabby had explained that an article had appeared in the Times that day, announcing the birth of a son to Robert Leland Montague, Marquess of Kinleigh.

Kinleigh. The man who was Vermillion's father.

Seated on a stool in the music room, Lee lovingly plucked the strings of a gilded harp, evoking the chords of a melancholy song. As she rested her cheek against the finely curved wood, she thought of her mother and began to feel grateful that Caleb was gone.

It was over between them. She had lost a piece of her heart, but not all. She wasn't an innocent any longer and making it known to Lord Nash that it was he she intended to choose the night of her birthday would be far easier now.

"Excuse me, Miss."

Her hands went still. She looked up to see the butler in the doorway.

"Terribly sorry to disturb you, Miss, but your Aunt Gabriella wishes to see you in the Green Drawing Room."

"Thank you, Jones." Tilting the harp back onto its base, Vermillion rose from her stool and started across the library toward the door. In a simple apricot muslin gown and wearing only a hint of rouge, she wasn't dressed for visitors and there was every chance her aunt would be in company with someone.

Then again, it was the middle of the day. Surely, her appearance would be suitable enough.

Making her way along the hall, she heard the husky ring of male voices and again considered a change of attire. But something had happened to her in the past few weeks since she had met Caleb, and she was beginning to feel more comfortable in her own clothes, her own skin. She waited while Jones slid open the drawing-room door, then drew in a steadying breath, pasted on a smile, and walked in.

As she had guessed, her aunt was not alone. There were two uniformed British officers seated across from her, men in scarlet tunics laden with heavy gold braid. Their breeches were navy blue, as well as the cuffs on their immaculate, perfectly tailored scarlet jackets, and tall Hessian boots gleamed in the sunlight coming through the mullioned windows.

They came to their feet the moment she stepped into the drawing room. She summoned her practiced smile, but the smile froze on her lips.

She didn't know the man on the left, but the other one, slightly taller, dark-haired and dark-eyed, was a man she knew only too well. She had spent two nights making love to him. That man was Caleb Tanner.

"Come in, darling." Aunt Gabby motioned her forward. She must have seen the stunned expression on Lee's face for she smiled. "I realize it must be a bit of a shock to find one's groom in full military dress and standing in the drawing room, but it is rather exciting as well. Do join us, dear."

She made her way toward them, walking on legs that felt encased in lead.

"Allow me to introduce Major Mark Sutton and Captain Caleb Tanner." Her eyes twinkled merrily, as if she had stumbled upon some rare bit of news. "I believe you have already made Captain Tanner's acquaintance—as he was recently employed as Parklands' head groom."

Lee wanted to sink into the floor. She wanted to close the distance between them and slap his handsome face. She had known something was wrong, that he was no ordinary servant, but she never would have guessed anything close to this.

In the end, she simply did what she had been trained to do and smiled at him pleasantly. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Captain Tanner. Why has an officer of the British Army been working in our stable?"

Gabriella answered before he could speak, her eyes bright with excitement. "It was a matter of intrigue, it seems. Until today, Captain Tanner was under orders not to reveal his true identity. Perhaps Major Sutton can explain it to you, as he did to me."

Sutton cast her a glance, a taller than average man with curly black hair and a disarming smile. "Let me begin by apologizing for the deceit we have perpetrated upon you and your most charming aunt. I assure you it was necessary."

"Is that so?" She tried not to look at Caleb, but her gaze kept slipping toward him. His face was set, his features grim. She tried not to notice how handsome he looked in his perfectly fitted uniform, his hair cut short, and his face recently shaved. She tried to still the too rapid beating of her heart.

"I'm afraid we believed the deception to be necessary at the time. You see, we were trying to capture a deserter, a cavalryman in Captain Tanner's regiment who had killed an officer during his tenure in Spain. We had reason to believe the man had returned to England and was involved in the business of racing horses. As you know, Captain Tanner has a good deal of expertise in that area and it was believed he could be of assistance."

"I see." She didn't, of course. She couldn't seem to concentrate on the major's words.

"Five days ago, the man we were seeking was apprehended near the racecourse in York, and Captain Tanner was recalled to his duties. Both the Captain and I wished to personally apologize for any inconvenience you might have suffered."

She stared hard at Caleb, who hadn't yet said a word. "This man… did he… did he have anything to do with the murder of Mary Goodhouse?"

Caleb shook his head, his eyes dark and fixed on her face. "No. I'm afraid this was a completely separate matter."

"Smile, darling. Jacob has returned and all is well. And in a roundabout manner, we have been instrumental in capturing a fugitive from justice."

Smile. She thought she already was.

"In celebration," Aunt Gabby went on, "I've invited Major Sutton and Captain Tanner to join us for supper. Perhaps if we are lucky, they will share a few of their adventures in Spain."

She could feel the muscles tightening around her mouth as she forced her lips to curve. "How delightful. I'm sure that will make for a fascinating evening. For now, however, I'm afraid I shall have to leave you. There are several matters of importance I need to attend. If you gentlemen will excuse me… ?"

"Of course." Major Sutton made her a very gallant bow and Caleb made a polite nod of his head.

As she turned toward the door, his eyes caught hers one last time. There was turmoil there and something else she could not name. She hoped he could read the seething anger in her own and that he would be wise enough to stay away from her as long as he was there.

Of course Caleb didn't stay away. Though supper was an intimate affair by Aunt Gabby's standards, Lee dressed in a midnight blue silk gown trimmed with blue lace, seated herself at her dressing table, and waited while Jeannie pinned up her hair, coiffing it in soft curls over a narrow diamond headband.

Diamonds encircled her throat and glittered in her ears. Though the gown was daringly low-cut, she wore a little less powder tonight and only a dash of rouge on her lips and cheeks. She told herself it had nothing to do with Caleb, but she knew it wasn't the truth.

For all his deceit, Caleb had shown her that a man could be attracted to her just as she was. Since she had met him, she had become more her own person. She liked herself better this way—allowing some of Lee to shine through. She tried not to wonder if Caleb would approve, since it really didn't matter.

It also didn't matter that she still found him attractive or that making love with him had been one of the most incredible experiences of her life.

All that mattered was that he wasn't the man she had believed him to be. The trust she had felt for him, the admiration that had led her to give herself to him, none of it was real. There was no Caleb Tanner, not as she had known him, at any rate. This other man was someone she barely recognized—a man who meant nothing to her in the least.

" 'E is quite something, your Captain Tanner." Jeannie stuck another pin into Lee's upswept hair. "The servants, they gossip about 'im. Already, they 'ave heard the story of why 'e was working in the stable."

"Yes, I'm sure they have." Sometimes she thought they knew more about what happened at Parklands than she did.

" 'E is even more 'andsome in 'is uniform, n'est-ce pas?"

A fresh rush of anger slid through her. "He is also a liar."

" 'E was ordered to keep 'is silence. I do not think 'e had a choice."

Lee looked at Jeannie over her shoulder. She had long ago given up denying her involvement with Caleb, but she didn't intend to discuss him any further. "I don't want to talk about Captain Tanner."

Jeannie arranged another curl. " 'E came back for you, I think."

"If he did, it was only for one reason, and if he thinks for a moment he is going to take up where he left off, he had better think again."

Jeannie said nothing to that, just finished dressing Lee's hair and held up a mirror so she could see the back. She took a quick glimpse, nodded, and rose from the stool in front of the bureau. A few minutes later, she left the bedchamber, prepared to face the evening ahead.

At the top of the stairs, she took a long, courage-building breath. She shook out her dark blue silk skirt and descended to the foyer.

The gentlemen were waiting.

She amended that. The gentlemen—and Caleb—were waiting, prepared to escort the ladies into the dining room, an extravagant salon decorated in a Grecian motif with paintings of ancient temples supported by artificial columns along the walls.

She was only a little surprised to see Lord Claymont in company with the two uniformed men, looking, though several years older, equally as handsome as they.

"Good evening, Vermillion, dear." Leaning over, the earl brushed a kiss on her cheek. "You're looking quite fetching this evening."

"Thank you, my lord." She turned to the other two men. "I presume you all have met."

Claymont smiled. "Actually, I've known Major Sutton for the past several years. And of course I'm well acquainted with Captain Tanner's father."

Her eyes cut briefly to Caleb and she wondered what other secrets he had kept from her. "I'm sorry… I don't believe I know who that is."

"Why, the Earl of Selhurst, my dear. William and I have been friends for a number of years."

Her eyes must have reflected the betrayal she felt for a muscle tightened along his jaw. Not only a captain of the cavalry, but also the son of an earl.

She gave him an insipid smile. "I'm impressed, Captain Tanner. Just think, a member of the aristocracy, son of a high-ranking member of the ton—shoveling horse manure out in our stable. Imagine how that will heighten our somewhat dubious standing in Society."

Her aunt's silver-blond eyebrows shot up. "Darling, really. I doubt Captain Tanner wishes to be reminded of the tasks he was forced to perform in the line of duty."

Instead of getting angry, Caleb's mouth curved with amusement. "There are worse jobs, I promise you. Believe it or not, I enjoyed my brief tenure working with the horses." His eyes moved down to her breasts. "I found the riding especially… pleasurable."

She flushed; she couldn't help it. She knew he wasn't talking about horses and the anger she was feeling heated up another notch.

There was nothing she could do—at least not here.

"I think it's time we went in to dinner," her aunt said, breaking the tension between them. She captured Lord Claymont's arm and led him off toward the dining room.

"Shall we?" Major Sutton, as senior officer, offered to escort Vermillion and she rested her hand on the sleeve of his scarlet coat.

"I am honored, Major." She flicked a glance at Caleb, then gave the major a smile so bright it could have lit up a darkened room.

Caleb's bland expression turned into a scowl that made her smile go even wider. As she walked into the dining room, clinging rather tightly to Major Sutton's arm, she could feel Caleb's eyes on her. They burned with an inner fire and for the first time since she had seen him standing in the drawing room, Lee felt a wave of satisfaction.

13

« ^ »

Supper was an endless affair. Seated at the head of the long mahogany table, Aunt Gabby sat smiling and laughing with her guests. Still a lovely woman in the glow of the candles burning in the silver candelabra, Gabriella was in rare form tonight, charming the men as she always did, regaling them with tales of her travels as a young girl visiting Paris. By the end of the evening, she had even managed a few rare smiles from Caleb.

Major Sutton entertained them with stories of the war, though he was careful not to say anything inappropriate in the presence of ladies. Caleb was mostly quiet, his gaze finding hers time and again throughout the lengthy evening.

She was glad when the men retired for brandy and cigars and she was finally able to slip away. While Aunt Gabby went upstairs to refresh herself, Vermillion quietly made her way out to the garden. A warm wind ruffled the leaves and an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. The sky was nearly black and bright stars glittered overhead. It was an evening much like the last night she had spent with Caleb.

Thinking about that night seemed to conjure him out of the shadows. How he managed to appear so soundlessly she wasn't really sure. He had always moved with a sort of quiet grace and he did so now, stepping out of the darkness just a few feet away from where she sat.

"I saw you come out here," he said. "I've been hoping to get you alone since I arrived. We need to talk, Lee."

She came up off the wrought-iron bench, anger warring with hurt, disappointment, and feelings of betrayal. "My name is Vermillion and there is nothing to talk about. I don't even know you. Therefore there is nothing to say." She meant to walk past him, but Caleb caught her arm.

"My name is Caleb Tanner. I'm twenty-eight years old. My father is the Earl of Selhurst. My mother, God rest her soul, died when I was born. I have three brothers, Lucas, Christian, and Ethan. I joined the army eight years ago. I've served in the Netherlands, India, and also in Spain. Currently, I'm on special assignment to General Wellesley. Now you know who I am. As I said, we need to talk."

Instead of a reply, she ignored him and simply started walking.

"Running away isn't going to change what happened."

She stopped and turned to face him. "I am not running away. I am leaving, as I find present company fatiguing in the extreme. Now if you will excuse me…"

Apparently he wouldn't, since he stepped into the path in front of her, blocking her escape. "I would have told you the truth if I could have. I was under orders from my superior, Colonel Cox, making that impossible."

"What about the other, Caleb? Was making love to me part of your assignment, too?"

Caleb stiffened a little and she noticed the way the gold buttons glittered on his scarlet coat. "I apologize for what happened between us. I wanted you. It's as simple as that. Perhaps it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been pretending to be something you were not."

Her chin went up. "Need I remind you—I wasn't the only one pretending?"

"As I said, it was necessary at the time."

She tilted her head back and looked him straight in the face. "Why did you come back here?"

Caleb's eyes remained locked with hers, but there was something in them. She wished she knew what it was.

"Because I wanted to explain. I was hoping I could make you understand." In the light of the torches he looked impossibly handsome and her heart continued its ridiculously uncomfortable patter.

"Fine. So now you've explained and I understand and you can leave." She tried to brush past him, but he caught her arm and turned her once more to face him.

"And I wanted you to know that if there were… consequences… to what happened between us, I would not shirk my duties."

Her lips tightened. She jerked free of his hold and settled a hand on her hip. "And just what, exactly, does that mean?"

"It means I would accept my responsibilities. I would provide for you and the child."

She laughed. It rang with bitterness through the garden. "I have plenty of money, Caleb. I don't need any of yours. If there is a babe, I am perfectly capable of caring for it myself."

"The child would be mine as well, Lee. I would want him to know his father."

It was a worry she had considered in regard to choosing a protector. An image of Caleb in that role popped into her head, but she ruthlessly forced it away.

"Then I shall be happy to keep you informed. However, I don't believe you need worry on that account." She flushed, unwilling to discuss her monthly curses with a man who was still a virtual stranger. "In the meantime, I suppose this is farewell. Good night, Captain Tanner. Have a pleasant journey back to London or Spain or wherever it is you are going."

She pushed against his chest, trying to shove him out of her way, but she might as well have been trying to move a block of stone.

"Eventually, I'll be returning to Spain. Not yet. And as for my immediate departure from Parklands, your aunt has been kind enough to invite Major Sutton and me to the weeklong house party she is giving. I believe the festivities begin on the morrow and end with the celebration of your nineteenth birthday."

For the first time, her aplomb deserted her and a knot of dread tightened in the pit of her stomach. "Surely you… you don't intend to be here for that."

His eyes went dark and his smile turned feral. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Lee stood frozen as Caleb caught her hand and brought it mockingly to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss against her fingers and a little tendril of heat curled in the bottom of her stomach.

"So you see, sweeting, for now it is adieu and not farewell."

Lee said nothing. She was thinking about the heat of his mouth against her hand and trying not to remember the way it had felt when he had kissed her.

"It's getting late," he said. "Unless you wish me to do exactly what you are thinking, I believe it's time I escorted you back inside."

She flushed as he offered her his arm, as if he had done it a thousand times—as if it were his right. Anger dissolved her embarrassment and stiffened her spine.

"Go to bloody hell, Captain Tanner."

This time she shoved hard enough to catch him off balance and he took a step backward, barely able to stop himself from toppling into the shrubbery. Blue silk rustled against the legs of his navy blue breeches as she brushed past him. She wasn't ready to forgive him, not yet. If she did, she might wind up back in his bed and she wasn't about to let that happen. Not with her birthday only a week away.

Slippers crunching on the gravel path, she cast a last glance over her shoulder. She thought she caught a glint of amusement and what might have been determination in Caleb's dark eyes before he turned and walked away.

"So how did it go?" Major Sutton rode beside him on the trip back to London. It was late, well past midnight. Ever the gracious hostess, Gabriella Durant had invited them to spend the night, but the journey wasn't overly long and they needed to pack the appropriate clothing for their return. Caleb felt a shot of satisfaction that he had managed an invitation—or at least Sutton had. A big four-poster bed in a guest room upstairs would be far more comfortable than the bunk he had slept on in the stables.

He flicked a glance at the major, who had so expertly won the Durant woman's confidence. "I thought the day went extremely well, considering…"

One of Sutton's black eyebrows went up. "Considering that you've obviously bedded the younger of the women. I don't imagine Vermillion was particularly happy to discover your deception."

Caleb's mouth barely curved. "You might say that." He didn't confirm or deny the major's assumption, but one of Sutton's talents was reading people and apparently he had seen enough looks passing between them to believe they had been intimately involved. "I think if she'd had a gun, she would have shot me."

"Yes, well, better to discover one's lover is not a groom but the son of an earl, than the other way round."

Caleb made no reply. He wasn't all that certain Lee would agree.

"At any rate, we've gained the access we need. What you do with the girl from now on is your business, but I would suggest if you can find your way back into her bed, you should do so. It would certainly better our chances of gaining information."

He smiled and Caleb caught a flash of white teeth in the darkness. "Besides, she is a fetching little baggage. My God, the girl has breasts like ripe melons. I thought on several occasions tonight they were going to spill out the top of that dress. I daresay I was hard beneath the table for the better part of the evening."

Caleb's gloved hand fisted on his horse's reins. He drew the animal to a halt in the middle of the lane. "I realize you're my superior, Major Sutton, but when it comes to Vermillion, I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself There is a line, sir, and you have just crossed it."

Sutton eyed him in the darkness. "I see."

"I don't think you do. The girl is not the woman she appears. In truth, until I took her innocence, she was a virgin."

"That's impossible."

"I wouldn't have believed it either, but I can tell you with all certainty that it is exactly the truth."

"But why would she pretend—"

"She has her reasons. They have to do with being a Durant and the loyalty she feels to her aunt. Whether they are valid or not is another matter."

"Interesting…" Sutton nudged his horse forward and they started riding again along the lane. "On the other hand, thanks to you, Vermillion is now exactly what she has always seemed. All in all, I don't suppose it matters which man among us was the first."

Caleb clamped down on his jaw, fighting to contain the fury that shot through him. He was coming to dislike Mark Sutton more and more. If the man hadn't been his superior, Caleb would have dragged him off his horse and given him a taste of the punishment he had doled out to the last man who had insulted Vermillion.

Instead, he forced himself to remain silent as they rode the rest of the way down the lane back to London. All the way there, he kept thinking of the hurt and betrayal he had seen in Lee's face.

And wondering what would happen when she found out he was betraying her trust again.

The weeklong house party began the following day. The first event was an evening of gaming, dancing, and entertainment designed so that guests could become better acquainted. Though most already knew each other, there were always a number of recent acquaintances Gabriella had made. Actresses and opera singers, poets and artists, men like Major Sutton and Captain Tanner.

Lord Nash was there for the week, as well as Colonel Wingate and, of course, Lord Andrew Mondale. Lee was chatting with the colonel when a flash of scarlet caught her eye and she turned to see Caleb walk into the drawing room.

The moment he spotted them, a scowl appeared on his face. He quickly smoothed it away.

"Captain Tanner," the colonel called out to him, drawing him in their direction though he was already walking that way. "I don't believe we've met."

"No, sir. Not formally."

"You know Miss Durant, I assume."

The edge of his mouth barely curved. "Yes, I've had the pleasure."

She colored. She prayed the colonel wouldn't notice.

"Good evening, Miss Durant."

"Captain Tanner."

The colonel seemed unaware of the tension in their exchange. "You're assigned to Wellesley, I hear. Some sort of special duty. All very hush-hush, I gather."

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss it, sir."

"No, no, of course not. All the same, it's quite a coup, I would say, career-wise. Wellesley has grand ambitions. If you're one of the chosen, you could go very far. I gather that is your intention."

"Yes, sir. The army's been my home for the past eight years. I don't see any reason for that to change." He flicked a glance in Lee's direction, but his expression didn't alter.

He would be returning to Spain. She knew it shouldn't bother her, told herself it didn't.

They spoke for a moment more, trivialities, talk of the war. All the while she continued to smile and tried not to look at Caleb. Every time she did, her gaze slid down to his mouth and she remembered the heat of it pressed against her skin.

As soon as she could politely escape, she excused herself and slipped away. She had made it as far as the gaming room when Andrew Mondale appeared, handsome, almost pretty with his gleaming golden hair, jonquil tailcoat, and dark green breeches.

"Where have you been, my heart? I was about to perish of loneliness without you."

She arched a brow. "Really? And here I thought Juliette Beauvoir was keeping you well entertained." Beautiful and black-haired, with a pouty mouth and big blue eyes, Juliette was an actress in Drury Lane. She had set her sights on Mondale some weeks back. As far as Lee was concerned, she could have him.

"Juliette is not you, my dove. Surely you can't think she interests me in the least."

She toyed with a wispy red curl next to her ear, a gesture unconsciously Vermillion. "Actually, I think you and Juliette would suit." She looked thoughtful. "Yes, I believe the two of you would suit very well."

Andrew slapped a hand over his heart. "You wound me, my pet. You know there is only one woman for me." He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "It is you and none other, my beauty."

Vermillion laughed. Andrew could often be charming. But it was Nash she would choose. After Caleb, she knew the deep sort of bonding that intimacy with a man could bring. She wouldn't risk those feelings again and especially not with a man as inconstant as Andrew.

"Behave yourself," she said. "I believe Juliette is watching. Besides, I need to find my aunt. Why don't you try your hand at whist while I am gone?"

"I suppose if you insist… but my heart shall bleed until your return."

She laughed again as she turned to leave—and bumped right into Caleb. He steadied her with a big hand at her waist and leaned to whisper in her ear.

"I could manage to make his heart bleed in earnest, if only you just say the word." There was the mere hint of a curve to his lips and she thought that he might have been only half in jest.

She managed a flirty smile. "Why, Captain Tanner—you aren't jealous, are you?"

His eyes darkened. "I am jealous of every man in this room and undoubtedly you know it."

But she hadn't. Not really. And she was stunned at the realization that Caleb still felt something for her. She didn't know quite what to say. Fortunately, at that moment, the three-piece orchestra in the corner struck up a waltz, filling the room with music and ending their brief exchange.

Caleb saved her from an embarrassingly lengthy silence by taking her hand and leading her out to the dance floor.

"I've seen you waltz," he said. "I watched you through the windows. I wondered how it would feel to hold you in my arms."

She rested a faintly trembling hand on the shoulder of his scarlet uniform jacket and felt the outline of his heavy gold epaulets. With a single long stride, he led her into the waltz.

That he was an excellent dancer came as no surprise. He had always been a graceful man and here he seemed completely at home, gliding her into each turn, sweeping her along with him as if they had danced together a thousand times. His hold was firm and steady, his shoulder warm and solid beneath her hand. The conversation in the room seemed to slowly fade. The faces of the guests blurred into little more than a haze of color and for this brief time there was only Caleb.

Her heart swelled, pounded. Her chest squeezed, and in that moment, the shocking realization hit her: She was in love with Caleb.

Not just a little in love, but passionately, dangerously in love.

"I need to talk to you," he said. "When can we meet?"

But Lee was so engrossed in her newfound knowledge that she barely heard him. "Wh-what did you say?"

"I said we need to meet. We need to talk. I'll come to your room tonight, a little after midnight."

She missed a step, thinking of Caleb in her bedchamber, thinking what would happen if she actually let him in. "Are you insane? You can't come to my room."

He smiled. He had the whitest, most wonderful smile. "You might want to keep your voice down. One of your lapdogs might hear. I don't think they would appreciate knowing you were inviting a man to your room."

"I'm not inviting you to my room! I'm barely speaking to you!"

He stifled a grin, but amusement danced in his eyes. He led her into a turn, then pulled her back into his arms, holding her a little closer than he should have.

"Make some excuse and retire a little early. Don't forget to leave your door unlocked."

"Listen to me, Caleb Tanner. If you come to my room, I won't be there. You might be used to giving orders to your men, but I am not one of your soldiers."

Without missing a step, he drew her even closer. She could smell his cologne, feel the strength of the hand at her waist. There was something in his eyes. Dear Lord, if only she knew what it was.

"It's important, Lee."

The music abruptly ended. Caleb's hold lingered an instant longer, then he made a very formal bow and stepped away.

As soon as they reached the edge of the dance floor, Lee excused herself and left him. Caleb watched her until she disappeared from the drawing room.

I'm a fool. Completely insane. He had tried to talk himself out of it, known he was acting as ridiculous as the rest of her besotted swains, but still couldn't stop himself.

Returning to Parklands had been a mistake. He should have stayed as far away from Lee as he could get. Unfortunately, he'd had no choice. Orders were orders and his were to find a traitor. Though he no longer believed that Vermillion was involved, someone at Parklands—a frequent guest, one of the servants, or even Gabriella Durant—was involved in a conspiracy to obtain information and convey it to the enemy. It was his job to discover who it was.

What he didn't need to do was to become even more involved with Lee.

Standing in the darkness at the edge of the terrace, Caleb cursed himself. Through the windows of the drawing room, he could see her in conversation with Jonathan Parker, Lord Nash. It made his insides tighten. He hadn't encountered Nash yet but undoubtedly he would. As much as he respected the viscount, he couldn't bear to think of him touching Lee as he had, spending time in her bed.

Through the tall windows of the drawing room, he could hear her smoky laughter, watch her smile at something Nash said, and his stomach clenched with jealousy. In some strange way she belonged to him.

He wanted her, had from the moment he had first seen her. He still did.

He thought how lovely she looked tonight in her high-waisted topaz gown. With her fiery hair swept up in curls, a few soft tendrils framing her face, she looked older, more sophisticated, yet now he noticed the innocence that sometimes crept into her expression, the charming naïveté that hid behind her practiced smile.

Perhaps those were the very things that made her so attractive to men, made her appear so mysterious and intriguing.

She was wearing very little face paint tonight, just enough kohl to make her eyes look huge and blue-green, enough rouge on her lips to remind him how soft and full they were, how sweet they tasted.

Caleb cursed as a shot of lust slid into his groin and his shaft went achingly hard. He was glad for the shadows on the terrace and annoyed at the heavy bulge straining against the front of his breeches.

Dammit to bloody hell. What was it about her that made her so different from the rest of the women he had known?

Cursing the unwelcome hold she had over him, Caleb walked away from the window. He couldn't afford to think of her and so he turned his attention to the task he had set for himself tonight.

The party was in full swing, guests drinking, gambling, dancing, some sneaking off to assignations in the rooms upstairs. The drawing rooms in this wing of the house echoed with laughter and gaiety, but the opposite wing was mostly dark. The library was there and the study. Both rooms opened onto the garden.

Careful to stay in the shadows, Caleb made his way in that direction.

14

« ^ »

Gabriella Durant stood next to Elizabeth Sorenson beneath the extravagant cloud-painted ceiling of the Cirrus Room. It hummed with the laughter and conversation of guests, the busy hustle of liveried servants carrying silver trays heavy with hors d'oeuvres and champagne.

Elizabeth's blue eyes latched onto one of the men across the room. "My God—did you invite Charles?" Gowned in white satin glittering with brilliants, Elizabeth stared at her husband as if a ghost had appeared on the opposite side of the drawing room.

"He arrived with Lord Claymont. Dylan said Charles asked if he could come." It was very bad ton, Gabriella knew. A man could come to an affair like this with his mistress, but never his wife.

Years ago, after Charles had abandoned his bride for another woman, Elizabeth had shown her disdain for Society and done exactly as she pleased. She still did. But she rarely appeared at a function where her husband would be present and Charles did his best to avoid his errant wife.

Or at least he had done so in the past.

Lately, Gabriella had noticed, Charles had made an unexpected appearance on several occasions and much of his attention had focused on his beautiful wife.

"Perhaps he has come because you are here."

"Charles?" She laughed and Gabriella didn't miss the bitterness in her voice. "I am the last reason he would be here. Perhaps he has his eye on an actress or an opera singer… Juliette Beauvoir perhaps. I heard he has been without a mistress for some time."

"Now that you mention it, I had heard that as well." Gabriella looked at her friend, whose gaze kept straying across the room toward the lean, sandy-haired man she had married but with whom she no longer shared a bed.

"Have you seen much of Charles lately?" Gabriella asked.

Elizabeth turned. "It's funny you should ask. You know he has been living at Rotham Hall these last several months." It was the earl's estate not far from the city where Elizabeth lived with her sons Peter and Tom. "I told him if he wished to stay with the boys for a while, I would move into the town house, but he said there was plenty of room for all of us."

"Interesting."

"I was surprised, to say the least. I might have moved, but the boys seemed so happy to have the two of us there I decided to stay. I don't imagine he'll remain much longer."

"So the two of you have been spending time together."

She glanced away. "I see him at breakfast on occasion. I make it a point to stay out of his way."

And it probably broke her friend's heart. Gabriella might have cursed Charles Sorenson as she had more than once over the years if she hadn't spotted the earl just then, staring at his wife from across the room, his face wreathed in an expression that could only be described as longing.

Dear God, had the man finally realized what he had thrown away? Was it possible? Charles was older now, less of a rogue than he had been back then. Though Elizabeth's reputation had been in tatters for years, Charles had maintained a façade of respectability. At any rate, a man having a mistress was accepted among the ton. But Charles was risking a blow to that façade by being here tonight with Elizabeth.

Was it really Juliette Beauvoir or some other woman who tempted him? Or could it be his lovely, heartbroken wife?

"Have you seen Vermillion?" Elizabeth asked, drawing her thoughts in another direction.

"The last time I saw her, she was talking to Lord Nash." She turned a searching glance around the room, but her niece wasn't there.

"Perhaps she has returned to the gaming room. I saw her there earlier, in conversation with Lord Andrew."

Gabriella sighed. "More likely she has gone off somewhere by herself. The closer we get to her birthday, the more worried I become." She returned her attention to Elizabeth. "I may have made a mistake, Beth. I don't think she is ready."

"I've been thinking that myself."

"For me it was different. I was enamored of my first lover and at least half dozen other of my admirers. My only difficulty in choosing a protector came in knowing I would have to give up the rest—at least for a time. Most of my liaisons didn't last long, not in the beginning. Since Claymont, I haven't felt the restlessness I felt back then."

"I think he loves you."

"Claymont? Perhaps he does. He says so often enough."

"What about you? Do you love him?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "What would it matter? Dylan is an earl. We live in two different worlds."

Elizabeth gazed toward her sandy-haired husband across the drawing room. "Speak to Vermillion," she said. "Tell her she doesn't have to choose unless she wishes it. She's a woman now. Tell her whatever decision she makes should be her own."

Gabriella nodded. Once again, she scanned the room for her niece, but Vermillion wasn't there.

Closing the terrace door softly behind him, Caleb stepped into the darkened study. He slid the draperies closed behind him and went in search of illumination. A brass lamp sat on a Hepplewhite table. Lifting the chimney, he struck flint to tinder and lit the wick, and a soft yellow glow filled the room.

Caleb held up the lamp to survey his surroundings, found himself in a large, wood-paneled, book-lined room. A burgundy leather sofa and chairs clustered before the marble-manteled hearth. A rosewood desk sat in front of the windows, a comfortable leather chair resting on the polished wooden floor behind it. A crystal inkwell and a white plumed pen in a silver holder sat on a felt ink blotter on the desktop.

He didn't waste time, just carried the lamp to the desk, sat down in the chair, and began to pull open the drawers. Estate ledgers took up most of the bottom one. He drew out the heavy leather volume, cracked it open and scanned the pages, but didn't see anything of interest.

The second drawer was devoted to Parklands' Thoroughbred racing operation. Each horse the stable owned had been entered into a leather ledger but the handwriting was different from the other he had seen, the letters smaller, well formed, and precise. He imagined the writing must be Lee's and closed the book, refusing to let his mind be distracted by thoughts of her.

Instead he studied the contents of the rest of the drawers, then searched the desk for some sort of lever that might conceal a hiding place of some kind. Finding nothing, his frustration mounted. He was closing the top drawer, still seated in the chair, when the ornate door swung open and light spilled into the study.

He had been certain he would hear footfalls against the marble floor of the hall, but these had been light, the merest shuffle of small, feminine feet encased in butter-soft kidskin, and he had not noticed. Caleb silently cursed as Lee walked into the room and firmly closed the door.

"What are you doing in here?"

She was looking at him as if she had discovered a thief, which in a way, she had.

"I suppose I could ask that question of you, but it is, after all, your house. You have a right to be in here."

"That's right. And you don't."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps I needed a respite from the party."

"You were going through the desk." She walked toward him, her spine straight and anger snapping in her eyes. "What were you looking for, Caleb? What else haven't you told me?"

He thought of lying, but he had lied to her too many times already. And he trusted her. It was a good thing because the moment she had stepped into the room, he'd had no other choice.

"Lock the door. What I'm going to tell you can't go anywhere other than this room."

She hesitated for a moment, then went over and turned the key in the lock as he wished he had done. The narrow skirt of her topaz gown brushed her hips as she walked back to where he stood beside the desk.

"First I want you to know that by telling you this, I am disobeying orders."

"And why, pray tell, would you do that?"

He sighed, raked a hand through his hair, wished she wouldn't keep looking at him that way. "Because I've lied to you enough. Because, in the time I've known you, I've come to trust you. And because I could use your help."

Her features didn't soften. "Go on."

"There's a spy at Parklands. I'm here to catch him." Or her, but he didn't say that. Instead he told her what they had discovered so far, explained that General Wellesley believed that the casualties in Spain would have been considerably reduced if certain information hadn't reached the enemy—information that seemed to have come from Parklands.

"That's absurd. I don't believe a word of it—not for a moment. This is just another one of your lies."

"I'm through lying, Lee. If I could have told you the truth before, I would have done it. I shouldn't be telling you this now."

Her eyes looked troubled and such a deep shade of aqua he could have gotten lost in them. "If it's true, who do you think is responsible?" She glanced down at the desk, realized why he had been going through the drawers. "If you're confiding this information to me, then you don't think I am the traitor." Her head came up. "Tell me you don't believe the traitor is Aunt Gabby."

He wished he could. He wished he knew a lot more than he did. "I don't know who it is. That's what I'm trying to find out."

"Is Major Sutton also here for that reason?"

"Yes." But he hadn't told the major his intention to visit the study. He didn't like the man. In some strange way, he didn't trust him.

"My aunt is a loyal Englishwoman. She would never betray her country."

"Then help me prove it. Help me find out who is."

She said nothing for the longest time. "Is that the reason you wanted to talk to me tonight?"