Caleb knocked on the door of the study, turned the silver handle at the sound of the marquess's voice bidding him enter, and walked into the room.

"Caleb. Thank you for coming." Like the rest of the house, it was a pleasant room, paneled in walnut and lined with books, in a bit more disarray, perhaps, with several days' newspapers strewn over a rosewood table and a stack of ledgers perched on a corner of the desk. The marquess walked past it, over to the sideboard. "Brandy?"

"Thank you. I believe I will." There was something in the older man's manner that warned him he might need it. Caleb accepted the crystal snifter, then followed the marquess to a deep red leather sofa and chairs grouped around the hearth.

A small fire crackled in the grate. A summer storm had blown in, cooling the early July night, and outside the window, a layer of clouds crept over the valley.

"First, Caleb, I want to thank you. In bringing my daughter here, you have given me the greatest gift any man has ever bestowed upon me."

Caleb smiled. "I'm glad things have worked out as they have."

"Actually, things have worked out even better than you know." He leaned back in his chair. "You see, Lee has agreed to stay with me here at Kinleigh."

He was more than a little surprised-at the marquess for offering and Lee for accepting. "Won't that create a problem for you? Considering that Lee is a Durant?"

"It might. Even if it does, it will be worth it. But in truth, I hope to head off any problems that might arise before they occur. You see, I plan to adopt Lee as my daughter."

Caleb's brandy glass paused halfway to his lips.

"As soon as matters can be legally arranged," the marquess went on, "Lee Durant will become Lee Montague. There is no way to deny that she was born out of wedlock, but even should her mother's name be discovered, it will scarcely matter, once I have claimed her as my own flesh and blood."

It just might work, Caleb thought. Lee looked little like the Vermillion he had first met, the sophisticated courtesan who was the darling of Parklands. She dressed more simply now and no longer wore face paint. In truth, her entire demeanor had changed. The marquess's interest went far beyond what he had imagined, but it just might work.

"I'm a powerful man, Caleb. Even should people speculate, they would never dare offend her."

Caleb swirled the brandy in his glass. "That's extremely generous, Lord Kinleigh."

"Generous? It is nothing less than she deserves. Had I been more of a man all those years ago and married her mother as I wished, she would already carry my name and with it her legitimate birthright."

It was true, Caleb thought. And if Kinleigh claimed her, her future would be completely secure.

"As for you, Captain, and your relationship with my daughter-we both know you will soon be leaving the country."

"That's right, sir. In just a few more days." Caleb set his brandy glass down on the side table and sat up a little straighter. "As I said, I would gladly marry-"

"I'm afraid I've changed my mind in that regard." The marquess's eyes fixed on Caleb's face. "When you came to me, you asked me to see to my daughter's welfare. As her father, that is exactly what I intend to do. You're an officer in His Majesty's Army. You'll be leaving for Spain and there is no way to know when you will return." Or if you will return, were the words that went unsaid. "Unless there are... consequences to your association with Lee, I don't believe a marriage between the two of you would be in either of your best interests."

He was right. Most certainly he was. So why did he feel this crushing weight on his chest?

"I know how much my daughter cares for you. In the brief time she has been here, she has certainly spoken your name often enough. But as you say, I want her to be happy. Both of us do. I intend to make that happen."

The marquess rose from his chair and Caleb stood up as well. He felt cold though the room was becoming overly warm. His heart was beating and yet it felt as if the blood had slowed to a crawl through his veins.

"You said at supper the two of you are planning to return to London on the morrow."

"That's correct. Even if Lee has decided to stay, she'll want to pick up her things and inform her aunt of her plans before returning on a permanent basis."

"I'm sure that is her plan. However, I am going to call on your honor, Caleb. As the gentleman I know you are, I am asking that you do the honorable thing where my daughter is concerned. I want you to travel at first light. I want you to leave Lee at Kinleigh. I don't want her hurt any more than she already has been."

He understood. In a way, he had expected this to happen. Lee was an unmarried woman and he was her lover. If she were his daughter, he would probably shoot the man who had stolen her innocence. But God, he didn't want to leave her. Not like this.

"I suppose it would be in Lee's best interest," he said, hoping the marquess didn't notice the rusty note in his voice.

"We both know it is. I'll make your farewells for you after you've gone. I'll tell her the truth-that I thought it would be less painful for you both." And lessen the chances of his fathering a child. The marquess didn't have to speak the words.

Caleb forced himself to nod.

"Then I have your word, Captain, as an officer and a gentleman? You'll agree to stay away from Lee until you leave for Spain?"

He couldn't breathe. He needed to escape the room, needed to escape the powerful emotions he hadn't expected to feel. Didn't want to feel.

"You have my word, Lord Kinleigh." He wouldn't make love to her again, wouldn't risk her future any more than he already had.

The older man relaxed. He walked beside Caleb to the door. "Do you still plan to visit your father?"

"Yes, sir. As soon as I leave here." He had planned to spend a couple of days with his father, no more. He didn't want to be away from Lee that long. Now it wouldn't matter.

"Take care of yourself over there, Caleb. And as I said, give my regards to Lord Selhurst."

He simply nodded, unable to manage any more words. Turning away from the marquess, he left the study. He didn't intend to wait till morning to return to London. He couldn't bear to stay in the house a moment more.

He wanted to go to Lee, wanted to say a final farewell, but he had given his word and he would abide by it.

It was going to be the hardest thing he had ever done.

Standing in the shadows outside the study, Lee pressed a hand against her mouth to still her trembling lips. Caleb was leaving. Her father had convinced him to go away without a word of farewell. She had been afraid something like this might result from the summons Caleb had received to join the marquess later in his study.

The thought had unsettled her so much she had slipped out of her room in only her night rail and wrapper. She had crept into the garden and sneaked up to the study window to hear what her father had to say.

Now, as she watched Caleb walk out the study door and disappear, anger poured through her. Her father was forcing Caleb to leave. She was furious with him! She hardly knew him and already he was trying to run her life!

But she had also seen the worry on his face, seen the protective look in his eyes when he spoke to Caleb about her future. He had asked her to come and live with him, told Caleb he planned to give her his name. It was beyond anything she could have imagined.

He was trying to protect her, behaving exactly the way a father who cared for his daughter ought to behave, and as hard as she tried, she could not fault him for it.

In truth, she felt deeply moved.

And she knew he was right.

Caleb was returning to duty. Any offer of marriage he had made had come out of duty, not love. He was leaving her behind and she had to get over him. A tearful good-bye would only make losing him more painful. It was better if she never saw Caleb Tanner again.

She repeated the words in her head. Let him go. Let him go. Let him go. And as she moved along the path toward the door leading back inside the house, she tried to convince herself.

Then a lamp went on in one of the rooms upstairs and she paused, guessing the room must be Caleb's. If she went upstairs and knocked on his door, would he let her in? He might, but he had given his word that he would stay away from her, and Caleb was a man of honor.

There was every chance the door would remain locked against her.

She told herself to keep walking, to ignore the lilac-covered trellis that beckoned her to climb up to the second floor balcony and slip into his bedchamber, as he had once entered her room at Parklands.

She tried to convince herself, but it was no use.

Reaching down, she grasped the hem of her nightgown and blue silk wrapper, dragged them above her knees, and set her bare foot on the first rung of the trellis.

Caleb stripped off his uniform and changed into a comfortable pair of buckskin breeches for the return trip to London. Dragging his satchel from beneath the four-poster bed, he began to stuff in the clothing he had brought with him to Kinleigh Hall. Downstairs, he had sent word to his coachman to ready his carriage and bring it round front. Now that his mind was set, Caleb couldn't wait to leave.

He was desperate to get out of the house, anxious to get away from Kinleigh. Away from Lee.

Just thinking about her made his chest ache. God, he'd been a fool to think he could escape unscathed when half the men in London had fallen in love with her.

But Lee wasn't Vermillion. She didn't pander to a man's ego, didn't play games. She didn't even look the same.

And he had foolishly believed he was immune.

Instead, he had fallen wildly, desperately in love with her, and now he had to leave.

Caleb closed the satchel, snapped the brass latches, and started for the door, anxious to be away. The night was cloudy and a little bit cold, but at least it wasn't raining.

"Caleb?"

The sound of her voice whispered through him, slipped softly over his skin. He turned to see her standing beside the door leading in from the balcony dressed only in her night clothes. He remembered the lilac-covered trellis. It was a long way to the ground. He didn't know whether to be angry or amused. In the end, even knowing he would have to send her away, he felt grateful she had come.

"You shouldn't be here," he said softly, afraid to move closer, afraid he might reach for her, and he couldn't afford to do that.

"You were leaving. I heard you and my father talking in the study. You were going away without a word."

His eyes ran over her face, taking in the wisp of burnished hair against her cheek, the faint trembling of her lips, the look of regret in her eyes. He wondered if his own eyes looked the same. "You weren't supposed to be eavesdropping."

"I can't believe you would go away like this. I thought you cared for me... at least a little."

He cared for her. He loved her. So much it hurt. He cleared his throat. "Your father thought... we both thought it would be better this way."

"Would it?"

He knew he should lie. He looked into her face and saw the hurt there, saw the betrayal she felt. "No. Not for me."

She was in his arms in a heartbeat, bare feet flying across the carpet, her nightclothes sweeping out behind her. He held her. Just held her, his arms tight around her, pressing her into his chest. He inhaled her scent, felt the brush of her silky hair against his cheek. Her breasts pillowed against him. He could remember their weight and the softness, the way they filled his hands. He remembered how good it felt to be inside her and he began to go hard.

Gently, he set her away. "You have to go, Lee. Your father would be furious if he knew you were here."

"I've lived all my life without him. I can manage a little while longer." She reached out and touched him, went up on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips. "I'm going to miss you, Caleb."

He swallowed. "I'm going to miss you, too."

"I don't know what will happen to me. I'm frightened of the future. When I was with you, I was never afraid."

His throat tightened. "I know how brave you are. I know the marquess will take care of you. Already he loves you. He only wants what is best for you. You don't have to be afraid."

"Do you think... if I became the daughter of a marquess, things could be different? Between us, I mean."

Ah, God. He reached out, caught her shoulders. "Don't you know by now this has nothing to do with who you are. I can't marry you, Lee. I'm a soldier. It's what I do-what I am. I can't give you the life you want, the life you deserve." He reached out and cupped her cheek, ran his thumb along her jaw. "The war is far from over. I don't even know if I'll be alive when it's finished. I want you to be happy. You deserve it more than anyone I know."

She leaned her face into his palm and a painful longing tore through him. He was in love with her. God, it hurt to leave.

"I want you, Caleb. Make love to me one last time."

His hand fell away. He stepped back from her, wanting her, unsure how much control he had. "I can't, Lee. I gave your father my word."

Tears welled in her eyes and began to slip down her cheeks. The moon crept out from between the clouds and he thought how beautiful she looked, standing there with her fiery hair unbound, her pale skin bathed in the soft glow streaking in through the trees.

"I have to go," he said gently. "If I don't, I'll break my word."

She just stood there and for an instant, he wasn't sure he could leave her. In some primal way, she belonged to him. She was his, and he had come to need her in a way he had never needed anyone before. But it wasn't fair to Lee. She deserved to have a husband who would be there when she needed him. A man who would be a father to the children she would bear.

"I wish you didn't have to go. I wish I would wake up and find out all of this was a dream." Her eyes filled with tears and his own eyes burned. When she leaned toward him, he didn't push her away, just pulled her closer, held her until his throat closed up and the whisper of her name remained unspoken.

It took sheer force of will to set her away from him. He didn't look at her again, just reached down to pick up his satchel and started walking, one painful step at a time. Lee made no move to stop him. If she had, he might not have made it to the door.

Once he did, he turned to look at her one last time, saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Be happy, Lee."

She tried to smile. Failed. "Take care of yourself, Caleb."

He forced his legs to move. He didn't look back as he walked down the hall, descended the stairs, and walked out of her life into the lonely future that awaited him.

23.

Life at Kinleigh Hall was as nothing Lee expected. In a way it was so much more. Her father was all that a father could be: gentle and caring, protective and loving. He began the legal proceedings to give her his name the day after Caleb left for London. He lavished her with gifts, had Grand Coeur and three other of her prized Parklands horses brought to his stable, and rode with her over the vast expanse of Kinleigh holdings nearly every day.

She was surprised at how often he spoke of her mother, making Angelique Durant seem real in a way she never had been before. Lee would have been happy-if it hadn't been for Caleb.

She tried not to think of him, tried not to let her heartbreak show. Her years of playing Vermillion enabled her to disguise her grief, but there were times she thought that her father suspected. After all, he had suffered the loss of the woman he loved. Perhaps he understood. If he did, he did not say.

She wondered why he hadn't forced Caleb to marry her, as a man of his position surely could have, but she wouldn't have wanted Caleb that way and she was grateful he seemed to know.

There was only one fly in the ointment. Well, two flies, actually: Bronson and Aaron Montague, the marquess's sons. Bronson had loathed her on sight. He'd been aghast when his father calmly informed him he had a sister he meant to make a member of the family.

"Good grief, Father, have you lost your wits? The girl is the daughter of your former paramour, for God's sake! She is a commoner, scarcely a suitable addition to the Montague line!"

"Need I remind you, Lee is my child as well. And her mother was scarcely common. She was a descendant Of French nobility. Had I married her as I wished, Lee would have been my legitimate offspring and I intend to rectify the situation as quickly as I can."

Bronson had threatened and they had argued.

"Lee is your sister," the marquess said, barely hanging on to his temper. "You will treat her with the respect she deserves or I shall cut you off without a farthing!"