"You've a visitor, sir." The old man's ears turned slightly pink. "A lady, sir. She has come a bit of a ways. She says if you do not wish to see her, you should tell her so and she will go away."

His heart started thudding. Surely she wouldn't come all this way. Then he remembered her riding like thunder over the fields, the reckless way she had taken jump after jump. Of course she would come. He set the snifter down on a table beside the door, fighting to curb his impatience to see her.

He wasn't dressed for company. He wore only his breeches, no shirt or boots. He dragged his shirt back on but didn't bother to button it, just followed the butler back down the stairs.

Lee stood in the foyer, a small, cloaked figure with damp, windblown hair the color of rubies and cheeks rosy from the chill in the late night air.

"I took the liberty of showing her groom into the kitchen, sir, for a bite to eat. There is a pallet in front of the fire should he wish to sleep."

A groom. At least she hadn't traveled alone. "Thank you, Grimsley." But his gaze remained on Lee and he couldn't seem to tear it away.

She didn't say a word until the butler had retired, then she hoisted her chin. "If you wish me to leave, merely say the word and I shall be on my way."

His mouth curved. "So I've been told." He wanted to sweep her up, to crush her in his arms, but he was afraid if he touched her he would never let her go.

"Well?"

"I leave for Portsmouth at dawn."

"I know that. That is the reason I am here." She waited for him to say something more, to invite her to stay. When he didn't, she whirled toward the door and started walking. "I'm sure you have a great deal to do before you leave. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. Good night, Captain Tanner."

She reached for the door but he was there behind her. He caught her waist, spun her around, and straight into his arms.

"Too late," he said softly. "You had your chance to escape. Now I won't let you out of my sight until dawn."

She looked up at him, ready to push him away. Whatever she saw in his face changed her mind. Her arms went around his neck and she pressed her cheek to his.

"Caleb..."

For long moments, he just held her. He could feel her heart beating nearly as fast as his own, feel the faint tremors running through her body. She was here. God only knew they would both regret these hours in the morning. Still, he swept her up in his arms and started up the stairs.

"I've missed you," he said as stepped inside his bedchamber and closed the door with his bare foot. "Every day that you have been gone I have thought of you and wished you were here."

He kissed her then, knowing he shouldn't, unable to help himself.

Wishing things could be different.

Knowing for him they never would be.

Lee could scarcely believe she was actually here, upstairs in Caleb's bedchamber. There was a time she wouldn't have been so bold, but that was long ago, before she had met him. Before she had become the person she was today.

She leaned toward him, went up on her toes and kissed him. "I've missed you, Caleb. So very much." She kissed his eyes, his cheeks, his lips. "I had to see you. I couldn't stay at Kinleigh, knowing you might still be here, knowing I might never see you again. I had to come, Caleb. I had to see you one last time."

His hand came up to her cheek. "I know I shouldn't say this, I know you're being here is bad for both of us, but I'm so very glad you came."

"I've thought of you every night. I've dreamed of touching you... of having you touch me. Once you are gone, all I'll have left of you are memories." She kissed him very softly. "I want to spend the night curled up beside you. I want you to hold me in your arms. Make love to me, Caleb. Please?"

His hands shook as he framed her face between his palms, bent his head, and kissed her, a kiss so soft and sweet it nearly broke her heart. Reaching up, he began to pull the pins from her hair, then he combed the heavy curls out with his fingers.

"I can't make love to you-not the way you mean. I gave your father my word." But he kissed her again and began to unbutton her clothes and she reached down to unbutton his.

Outside the window, the storm was moving in. Lightning cracked and she heard the roll of thunder. The black night seemed to echo the darkness creeping into her soul.

Caleb removed the rest of her clothes and the last of his own. In the glow of the lamp flickering beside the bed, she could see the bands of muscles across his chest and she ached to touch them. She watched the way they bunched and thickened as he moved and she yearned to press her mouth against his skin. His stomach was flat, and ridges of muscle rippled in the faint, golden lamplight. His hips were narrow, his buttocks round, and his long, thick shaft jutted out from its nest of protective dark curls.

God, he was so beautiful. And she loved him so much.

Caleb lifted her again, carried her over to his tall four-poster bed, and set her down on the edge of the mattress. Propping an arm on each side of her, he bent and kissed her, a long, lingering kiss laced with the faint, sweet taste of brandy. She could feel the heat of his mouth, the softness of his lips, and an ache throbbed inside her. He was leaving. In a few short hours, he would be gone.

Caleb kissed her long and deep. He took and took and at the same time, the pleasure he gave was nearly unbearable. He kissed the side of her neck, trailed soft, open-mouthed kisses over her shoulders, bent his head and took one of her breasts into his mouth. Desire washed through her. Love for him welled up so strong it nearly made her weep.

Beneath his mouth, her nipples pebbled, turned diamond-hard and he rolled them around on his tongue. "Like berries," he whispered. "I shall forever remember the taste."

He cupped them almost reverently, massaged them as he claimed her mouth again, took her deeply with his tongue.

"I won't break my word," he said as he knelt between her legs, but she could see the hunger in his eyes, the hot desire and something else, something that matched the longing in her own.

She felt his mouth on her belly, his tongue in her navel and waves of pleasure washed over her. He eased her back on the bed and moved lower, pressed his mouth into the curls at the apex of her legs. Lee gasped as he parted her slick, woman's flesh and began to taste her there. It felt as if a torch had set fire to her blood.

"Caleb!" She tried to sit up but he coaxed her back down, began to kiss her again.

"I won't come inside you," he whispered. "But there are other ways that I can make love to you."

And so he began to show her. Sliding his palms beneath her hips, he lifted her against his mouth. He caressed her with his lips and his tongue until her body was on fire for him, until thoughts of Caleb consumed her, until she began to whimper his name. She fisted her hands in his thick brown hair, but he did not stop. Just held her hips immobile as he laved and tasted, stroked her again and again. There was reverence in the way he held her, in the way he gave and gave and did not stop. She reached her pinnacle thinking about him, wishing he were inside her. Pleasure poured through her. Even then he did not stop, not until she peaked again.

She was limp and sobbing when the sweet torture ended. Lifting her up, he settled her on the bed, then lay down beside her. He was still so hard she could see a faint pulse beating in the rigid length resting on his belly and she realized that what he had done was a gift.

Outside the window, the storm went on, a mirror of her own turbulent emotions. Lightning flashed as she reached out to touch him, wanting to give him the same gift he had given to her.

Caleb caught her wrist. "It's all right. You don't have to-"

"I want to, Caleb," she said softly. Bending over him, she tasted him, felt the smooth, rigid texture of his hardness, took him into her mouth. Her hair swung forward, pooled against his groin, and she heard his sharp intake of breath. She wasn't sure exactly what to do, but when she felt the tension sweep through his body, when she heard him whisper her name, she thought that perhaps it didn't matter. She cupped him and tasted him, caressed him more deeply, and in minutes he reached release.

She could feel the beating of his heart as he pulled her down beside him in the bed and nestled her against his chest. "I don't want to leave you," he said. "If there were any other way..."

She pressed her trembling fingers over his lips and ignored the painful lump in her throat. Caleb's arms tightened protectively around her and she felt the brush of his lips against her hair.

I love you, she thought. I love you so much. But she didn't say it. It wouldn't be fair to either one of them.

"I don't want to fall asleep," she said instead. "I want these last few hours with you." But she was exhausted from the tiring ride to London and he had pleasured her well. As hard as she fought to stay awake, sleep crept over her.

When dawn broke over the horizon and her eyes slowly opened, Caleb was gone. Inside her chest, her heart simply shattered.

24.

Lee's return to Kinleigh Hall the following day went unremarked. If her father knew where she had been, if he noticed the despair in her eyes or the weary defeat that weighed down her shoulders, he made no comment and she would forever be grateful. Caleb was gone from her life. She would make a fresh start without him. Her father seemed to read her thoughts and he was determined to help her.

In that regard, he continued the paperwork that would make her Lee Montague, daughter of a marquess and nearly untouchable by Society. Though she never intended to go forward among the ton, she was thankful for the cloak of protection her father had placed around her.

She hadn't realized how strong it would be until she received a letter from Oliver Wingate, asking for permission to call on her at Kinleigh Hall.

"I think you should receive him," her father said. "You will establish very clearly once and for all, exactly who you are."

She smiled. "Lee Montague, you mean?"

His mouth curved into a smile that resembled her own. "Exactly so, and the daughter of a peer."

And so she had received the colonel for an evening quite different from those they had shared at Parklands. As if in reminder of those times, a note arrived the following day from Andrew Mondale, suggesting a rendezvous, his intentions far less sterling than Wingate's. Lee simply ignored it.

The only person who stayed away was her aunt. Aunt Gabriella had written a lengthy letter, explaining that for Lee's sake, she would not come to Kinleigh Hall. Gabriella wished her every happiness and said that once Lee was settled securely in her new life, they could begin to discreetly see each other again. She had been so happy when Lee had chosen Caleb. Lee hoped she wouldn't despair at this latest turn of events.

In her aunt's stead, Elizabeth Sorenson, Lady Rotham, came to call and Lee was thrilled to see her. She was even more thrilled to learn that Beth and Charles had reconciled.

"We're in love, Lee." The countess laughed. "I feel like I'm twenty again. Charles is a wonderful husband and a marvelous father. I never would have believed it but he loves me. He proves it every day."

"I'm so glad for you, Elizabeth. You deserve to be happy."

"I hated being married, Lee. I believed it was a life of penance, but I was wrong. Sharing a life with someone who cares for you... it changes everything. It makes you feel complete."

Lee tried not to think of Caleb, and Elizabeth made a point not to mention him. No one did. It was as if he had never existed. Like everyone else, in an effort to protect her battered heart, Lee tried to pretend he never had.

Other people paid a visit, close friends of the marquess who came to lend their support. Still it was a surprise when Jonathan Parker arrived at the house.

"I've known your father for quite some years," Jon said as they sat in the drawing room. "He's an amazing man, Lee. I'm happy things have worked out for you as they have." Everyone called her Lee now. Like Caleb, Vermillion had vanished like a ghost of the past.

"It's wonderful to see you, Jon. You've always been a friend. It's good to know that hasn't changed."

The viscount reached over and caught her hand. "I told you once I wanted more from you than friendship-I still do."

Her shock couldn't have been more profound. The viscount had wanted her as his mistress. This was far different. In a thousand years, she would never have believed both Nash and Wingate would continue their pursuit, though now it would require no less than marriage.

"I know it's too soon," the viscount said. "You and your father need this time together, but when you are ready, I hope you will at least consider my offer."

What could she say? Jonathan Parker was a member of the aristocracy, one of the most respected men in England. It was an honor of the highest order. "Of course I will, Jon. I can't tell you how honored I am. But as you say, I need a little time."

More than a little, she thought. It might take years to get over losing Caleb. She wasn't sure she ever would.

Unfortunately, there were other considerations. Namely, her two half-brothers, Bronson and Aaron, who continued to make her life miserable whenever they were near. Aaron had arrived home from boarding school and received news of the sister who had become a member of the family with even more outrage than his brother, throwing such a tantrum his father had threatened to birch him, which-it was more than apparent-was something that had never been done before.

Though her father had given her his name and his protection and had offered her a new and different life, there were strings attached, and not everyone-especially her brothers-was happy she was there.

More and more, she wondered if perhaps she should leave Kinleigh Hall. In a way she was more trapped there than she had been at Parklands.

The hot July days crept past. Caleb's trip across the dry Spanish landscape had led him to Wellesley's encampment near Talavera, but the fighting had yet to begin and the waiting seemed interminable as men and equipment poured in.

In the last few days, the atmosphere in the camp had changed, as if the troops sensed that now the time was right; the attack on Joseph Bonaparte's massive army was ready to commence.

Mounted on Solomon, Caleb rode at the head of the column making its way to the top of a rise that overlooked the battlefield below. For miles around, the ground was barren and dusty. For the soldiers of Wellesley's army, the march to Talavera had been an arduous one and food supplies were low. The heat was unbearable, the sun scorching down with merciless intensity. At night lightning cracked overhead but not a drop of rain fell to quench the parched earth.

One of the horses nickered. Solomon sidestepped and tossed his head, beginning to get anxious. "Easy boy. It won't be long now." Not long before the carnage began, before bodies littered the desolate landscape as far as the eye could see. Scattered along a defensive line across the field, Joseph Bonaparte's forty thousand men waited to face nineteen thousand of Wellesley's troops aided by the Spanish army commanded by General Cuesta.

Caleb had been assigned to the 4th Dragoons, led by General Sherbrooke, Wellesley's second in command. His squadron had been ordered to the rise, ordered to take up their position for the assault. For the past twenty-four hours, a calm detachment had been with him, a skill he had developed over the years. He used it now to study the tens of thousands of armed soldiers across the field, the dozens of cannon loaded with grapeshot, ready to rip men and animals apart.

He knew what he would face once the fighting began, knew he might not survive it. But today was the first time he had ever felt regret.

Regret for the life he had chosen, for all he had so readily given up. The keen ache of loss for the woman he loved and the children he would never have. He thought of Lee and prayed that whatever fate awaited him, she would be happy.

A bugle sounded. Caleb watched a sweep of men and horses rush down from the knoll onto the field at his left. Cannon roared. Guns began firing, clouds of thick black smoke filled the air. Horses screamed and dozens of men fell beneath the vicious barrage.

"Hold your position!" his commanding officer shouted.

Solomon pawed the earth. In minutes, it would be time. He wasn't afraid to die. Perhaps, in truth, he had been afraid to live.

In joining the army, he had found a retreat from the world and at the same time, a way to prove himself to his father. He had chosen this life, gained the love and approval he had always wanted and never had, but now he wondered...

If he could choose again, if he could start over, would the choice he made be different? As clearly as if a voice had spoken in his head, Caleb knew that he would not choose the solitary existence he lived now. He would choose a home and family. He would choose Lee.

But he had sworn an oath to protect his country. He was an officer in the British Army and he had a duty to perform. If only things could be different.

But it was too late for that. Too late the moment he heard his resounding command, "Charge!"

Caleb raised his saber above his head, urged Solomon into a gallop, and plunged off down the hill.

There was no word from Caleb. No letters, not even a note. Lee hadn't expected there would be. The newspapers were filled with accounts of the terrible battle that had been fought at Talavera and the costly victory the British had won. Lists of casualties were printed, more than fifty-five hundred British soldiers had been wounded or killed. Caleb's name had not appeared on any of the lists and for that she was grateful. Still she worried about him.

She thought about the traitor who had been passing information to the French and wondered if he had been responsible in some way for the high number of British casualties, but there was no way for her to know.

The days drifted past. August was slipping away. She was officially Lee Montague now, though the upheaval it caused between her father and his sons made her question whether the price was worth it.

It was a warm summer afternoon when the marquess called her into his study. Lee knew he wanted to talk to her about the problems with Aaron and Bronson, but she wasn't exactly sure what he would say.

Or what she should say in return.

"I cannot begin to tell you how disappointed I am in both of them," her father began.

"It isn't entirely their fault," Lee said. "They see me as an intruder. In a way they are not wrong."

"I know that's the way you feel. That is the reason I wished to speak to you." He indicated the teapot on the tea cart a few feet away. "Will you pour for us?"

She did as he asked, handing him the cup, nervous at the set of his features.

"Yesterday Jon Parker came to see me." Her head came up. "Jon has asked for permission to marry you, Lee."