He rode with the confidence of an aristocrat, and she wondered, as she had more than once, who he was and where he had come from. There was something about him... something that simply did not fit. His speech was that of a gentleman and when he wasn't being surly, his manners were the equal of any of Aunt Gabriella's wealthy guests. Perhaps he was the son of a nobleman fallen on hard times, she thought romantically, trying to imagine what travails he might have suffered that had forced him into the ranks of the lower classes.

He reined up beside her and patted the big gelding's neck. "Duke is full of himself this morning. Perhaps a jump or two will help even out his disposition."

The horse's real name was Le Duc de Gar, but that was too long to say, so they just called him Duke. She smiled, liking the idea. "Let's head north, toward the boundary line." An uphill journey, crisscrossed with streams and low rock walls. "That little run should take some of the starch out of him."

Caleb nodded and they rode off in that direction. The sun was warm on her back and the breeze felt cool against her cheeks. Coeur performed solidly and as Caleb put the bay through its paces, the horse settled into an easy gallop.

Lee was breathing a little faster, exhilarated by the thrill of the chase. They reached a small copse of trees at the north end of the property and Caleb pulled rein on his horse in the shade of the trees.

"I thought we'd rest here for a while," he said. "Let the horses graze a little."

"Sounds like a good idea."

Caleb swung down from his saddle, walked over and caught her round the waist. As she rested her hands on his shoulders to balance herself, his gaze locked on her face. She could see a faint ring of gold in the centers of his eyes, see the way they began to darken. Something thickened in the air between them, grew warm and soft, seemed to swirl around them like an invisible red-hot mist.

Slowly, inch by inch, Caleb lowered her to the ground, his body so close she brushed against him the length of her slow descent. She could feel the heat of him, the solid wall of his chest. She couldn't breathe. The air seemed to burn in her lungs. Caleb set her on her feet but didn't let her go. Instead his hand came up and very gently caught her chin.

He was close. So close that if he lowered his head the least little bit...

"Caleb..." she whispered the instant before his mouth settled softly over hers.

Lee closed her eyes. She could feel the fullness of his bottom lip, the softness, the heat of his mouth moving over hers. His thumb felt warm where it lightly brushed her jaw, controlling the kiss, allowing him to take what he wanted, and yet it was nothing like any other kiss she'd had before.

He tilted her head back and kissed her again, sampling her lips, the corners of her mouth, coaxing her to open for him. She felt the slick heat of his tongue sliding over hers, taking what she had never given a man before. She hadn't expected the quick surge of pleasure, the soft heat coiling in her belly, the urgent pull low in her womb.

He smelled faintly of leather and horses, a pleasant, masculine scent, and where her palms rested on his chest, bands of muscle flexed beneath her fingers.

She knew she should stop him. Mondale would be furious and Wingate would go into a snit. Aunt Gabriella would be wildly disappointed. But she made no protest when Caleb pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, and a sweep of desire washed over her.

Lee clung to his powerful shoulders, drowning in the slow, deep, lingering feel of his mouth and tongue, wishing the moment never had to end. He kissed her one way and then another, kissed her fiercely then gently, kissed her the way she had dreamed a man should kiss. It made her head spin and her knees go weak. It made her heart pound so hard she was sure it would tear through her chest.

"Caleb..."

He didn't answer, but she felt his mouth against the side of her neck, felt the warmth of soft, moist kisses on the skin beneath her ear. She moaned when he took her mouth again, more possessively this time, and her legs began to tremble. One of his big hands moved up to cup her breast while the other began to work the buttons on the front of the short velvet jacket of her riding habit.

Dear God, it was time to bring this to an end. Plans had been made for her future, plans that didn't include Caleb Tanner.

Trembling all over, she turned her face away, ending the kiss, then breaking free of his arms, dizzy for a moment, swaying a little on her feet.

"Easy," he said, reaching out to steady her. "Why don't we go someplace where we can be private? There's a little shepherds' cabin not far away. I saw it the last time I was out here."

She only shook her head. "I have to go," she said, backing away, wetting her kiss-swollen lips, tasting him there. "They'll be... they'll be wondering where I've got off to."

Caleb frowned. "You're frightened," he said, his eyebrows drawing together as she stepped even farther away. "I didn't mean to scare you."

I'm not afraid, she told herself. I'm Vermillion. I'm not afraid of any man, and especially not Caleb Tanner.

She tossed her head, wishing her hair was fashionably done up and she was wearing rice powder and rouge, wishing she felt more like Vermillion and less like Lee. "Don't be silly. I wasn't afraid. I was enjoying a bit of sport, is all. I wanted to see what it might be like to kiss you."

He stiffened and a muscle tightened in his cheek. "That's what you were doing? Having a bit of sport?"

She glanced away, then turned back and forced herself to smile. "I didn't see any harm in it."

Caleb stalked her, looking hard, even dangerous. "Then tell me, Miss Durant, did my kisses meet with your approval?"

She shrugged her shoulders, feeling not at all like Vermillion and trying so very hard to pretend. "I suppose so. Andrew's kisses are a bit more forceful. Yours were-"

Caleb jerked her hard against him, cutting off her words. "So you like things rough-is that it? Then rough is what you'll get."

She tried to turn away, but he caught her jaw, holding her immobile, and his mouth crushed down with brutal force.

It was a hard, taking kiss. A fierce, plundering kiss with none of the gentleness he had shown her before and yet her whole body went liquid with heat. Her fingers dug into the front of his shirt and she wasn't sure if she were trying to pull him closer or push him away. It took sheer force of will to tear herself free and step away from him.

Once she did, for an instant she just stood there, staring into his face, amazed that even his rough, brutal kisses had the power to move her, trying not to flinch beneath his cold regard. Something burned at the back of her eyes, though she wasn't quite sure why. Afraid she was about to embarrass herself, she turned and grabbed the reins of her horse.

There was a rock not far away. She tugged Grand Coeur in that direction, settled herself in the sidesaddle, whirled the gray, and urged the horse into a gallop, bolting out of the trees and riding like fury back to the house.

She would be safe there, she told herself Safe from Caleb Tanner. Safe from herself.

It was the latter that Lee feared the most.

Caleb watched the small figure riding off down the hill. He was hard and throbbing, aching with unspent desire, but it was the tightness in his chest he couldn't ignore. If he closed his eyes, he could still see Vermillion's face when she had looked up at him, see the moisture in her beautiful aqua eyes. She had stared at him as if he had wounded her in some way, as if she had given him a measure of her trust and he had betrayed her.

Damn it to hell, it was madness. The woman was one of the most notorious courtesans in England. She might be young, but already she'd had countless lovers. Stories of her exploits circulated with regularity in gentlemen's clubs all over London. Even now, the betting books laid odds as to which of her lovers she would choose as her protector.

So how was it her soft mouth had trembled under his as if she were an innocent? As if she had rarely been kissed before and certainly never in a way that had stirred her to passion?

It was insane to have kissed her at all, he knew, but ever since his meeting with Colonel Cox, visions of her full lips and ripe body had haunted him. He couldn't seem to think of anything else.

An intimate relationship, Major Sutton believed, might prove highly useful. Seduce the seductress. Why not? Even Colonel Cox believed the notion might have merit. Who knew what might be discovered?

But he hadn't expected her kisses to be so sweet. Hadn't expected her to behave like the innocent she often appeared. He hadn't expected the wild surge of jealousy he had felt when she mentioned her lover.

Or the tears in her eyes when she turned and rode away.

Dammit to bloody hell!

Caleb cursed himself as he swung up onto the back of the bay. He was an officer in the British Army, a man with an important assignment. What was he going to say to Colonel Cox if Vermillion sent him packing? If she dismissed him because he couldn't control his lust? God's teeth, it didn't bear thinking about.

He would have to apologize. There was no way around it. He just prayed it would be enough.

Sitting across from her friend, Elizabeth Sorenson, Lady Rotham, Gabriella Durant heard the sound of a door slamming closed at the rear of the house. A few minutes later, she recognized Vermillion's footsteps in the hall, then the thump of her kidskin boots racing up the stairs.

Gabriella rose from the sofa in the drawing room and made her way into the entry. "Vermillion? Darling, you mustn't be too long. Lord Nash is coming over this afternoon. I hope you haven't forgotten. He's promised to drive us into town to see the latest addition to Madame Tussaud's waxworks."

But Vermillion didn't answer. Gabriella sighed as she returned to the drawing room, an impressive salon done in cream and pale blue with ivory and gilt furniture and blue-and-gold damask curtains. A Chinese cloisonne vase overflowing with tulips sat on the marble mantel.

"I hope she's all right. I've been worried about her lately."

Elizabeth picked up her gold-rimmed porcelain teacup and took a sip of tea. "Why on earth would you be worried?"

"I don't exactly know. She's been behaving a little bit strangely. Perhaps she is nervous. Her birthday is coming up soon. She has promised to choose a protector. Perhaps she is having second thoughts."

"It was her idea, wasn't it?"

"For the most part, though I thought it well past time. Perhaps I pressed her a bit more than I should have."

"Nonsense. Vermillion is a vibrant, intelligent young woman-one who is currently being wooed by the some of the wealthiest, most sought after men in England. It's time she started living, made a place for herself in the world."

"That is what I always believed. From the day I brought her home from the orphanage, I began to think of her future. Marriage, of course, was never a consideration." She flicked a glance at her friend. "You and I both know being a wife is nothing more than a lifetime of discontent. Being shut away in the country, little more than a broodmare for one's husband." She shuddered dramatically. "It is hardly something I would wish for my niece, even were it possible to find a suitable match-which of course is out of the question."

"Choosing a lover is the only solution," Elizabeth agreed, one of the few who knew the truth of Vermillion's virginity. "We must simply be certain she picks the right man."

Gabby smoothed a wrinkle from the front of her bright blue muslin gown. "She seems to have narrowed it down to three."

Elizabeth nodded. "Lord Nash, Colonel Wingate, and Lord Andrew Mondale. I think she would probably be better off with Nash, but Mondale is terribly dashing and he carries a desperate tendre for her. If I were to choose, I would pick someone young and passionate for my first lover." She studied the leaves in the bottom of her cup. "Charles was that way when we were first wed. Unfortunately, the passion he felt was not for me."

"Charles was a fool," Gabriella snapped, setting her cup and saucer down with a clatter. "Moll Cinders was little more than a prostitute off the streets. She had no style, no sense of class."

Elizabeth laughed bitterly. "That is scarcely a consolation, Gabriella."

"The man was an idiot. You are beautiful and talented, intelligent and kind." She sighed. "But then, husbands all seem to carry the singular trait of being enamored of any woman other than the one they married."

Elizabeth made no reply, just returned her cup and saucer to the Hepplewhite table beside her chair. "At least I was smart enough to find a way out." She grinned, a look of remembrance creeping into her bright blue eyes. "I shall always think of Lord Halford with genuine fondness. Lucas is as talented in bed as he is at the gaming tables. He was younger then, of course, not so jaded. But he was a wonderful lover."

Elizabeth gazed upward, toward Vermillion's room on the second floor. "Yes... if I were your niece, I would definitely choose a young man for my first time."

"And gossip has it Mondale is nearly insatiable in bed." Gabriella gave up a wistful sigh. "Oh, to be that young again."

Elizabeth just laughed. "You needn't mourn your lost youth, Gabby, certainly not as long as Claymont continues to share your bed."

Gabriella thought of the handsome man who was her longtime lover and her worry for Vermillion faded. It was a good life for a woman, a life of excitement and freedom, living as you pleased, under no man's thumb.

Yes, she was doing exactly the right thing.

Two days passed. Vermillion was avoiding him, and knowing how much pleasure she took in her horses only made Caleb feel worse. It was late in the afternoon when he passed behind the house and chanced to see her slipping out the back door. Determined to head her off, he watched her descend the terrace steps and make her way to the spot she liked at the rear of the garden.

Caleb glanced around, checking to be certain no one saw him, then entered the garden and started walking quietly through the foliage, emerging a few minutes later in front of the bench next to the fountain. The moment she saw him, Vermillion surged to her feet.

"I told you before-you're not welcome here."

"I know," he said softly. "I came to apologize."

Vermillion glanced away. She looked paler than she should have, less vibrant, and he wondered if he were the cause. "You have nothing to apologize for. The fault was mine. I shouldn't have let you kiss me."

He eased a little closer, caught a whiff of her soft perfume, and his groin subtly tightened. "You didn't really let me. Things just got a little out of hand. I work for you. I shouldn't have forgotten that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you and I know that I did."

She swallowed. She didn't look much like Vermillion today, in her pale green muslin gown sprigged with little pink roses. She looked softer, more vulnerable. More like Lee. He found himself saying things he hadn't intended.

"I just... you just looked so pretty that day and I... I wanted to kiss you. If you hadn't mentioned Mondale-"

Her head came up. "What does Andrew have to do with it?"

He cleared his throat, embarrassed that he had reacted as strongly as he had. "You said you preferred the way Mondale kissed and-"

"I never said that." She looked down at her slippers, studied the leaves on the path beside her toes. She lifted her gaze to his face. "I liked your kisses, Caleb. No one's ever kissed me quite that way. I liked it very much."

Whatever he was feeling, the pressure in his chest began to ease. "As I said, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

She nodded, but instead of looking pleased she looked regretful and thoughts of seduction slithered like a serpent back into his head. His body clenched and his loins began to fill. Caleb silently cursed.

"Thank you for the apology," Vermillion said, pulling his thoughts in a safer direction. "You didn't really have to. I wouldn't have fired you. Not for that."

Caleb gazed off toward the stable, wondering if he really had come just to keep his job. "I could use your help with the foal. His mother will be weaning him soon. It would be easier if there were someone he was attached to, someone who could take his mother's place for a while until he gets adjusted to being on his own."

Her features seemed to brighten. The sparkle returned to her eyes, but perhaps he had only imagined it had been gone. "I suppose I could come out early in the morning."

He nodded, tried not to feel quite so pleased. "I would really appreciate it if you would. I know it will be good for the foal."

"All right, then, yes. I'll come on the morrow." She was smiling when he left the garden. For the first time in the last two days, Caleb found himself smiling, too.

He told himself it was relief that his job was secure, that he could continue working to discover what was going on at Parklands, trying to ferret out a traitor. But he wasn't convinced it was entirely the truth. He reminded himself that the traitor might be the very female who had begun to haunt his thoughts, but convincing himself of that, he found, was even harder to do.

7.

From the doorway of the small room she occupied on the bottom floor of the house in Buford Street, Mary Goodhouse waited in the darkness as Annie kissed baby Jillian good night. She smoothed back the infant's fine, light brown hair, then tucked the child into the cradle Miss Durant had provided each of the newborns at birth.

"Sleep tight, sweet luv," Annie whispered.

As soon as Annie disappeared upstairs to the bedchamber she shared with Rose, Mary drew her shawl around her shoulders and slipped quietly out of her room. The floors creaked in the hall and so did the hinges on the door at the back of the house, but none of the lamps came on inside as she slipped out into the darkness.

It was cold this late in the evening, the stars like crystal specks in the black expanse of sky above her head. Mary shivered as she walked the deserted streets, unnerved by the echo of her worn soles on the cobbles. An occasional hackney rumbled past. She spotted a ladybird talking to a group of sailors and kept on walking.

There was something important she had to do, a matter that would secure a future for herself and her babe and provide the money she needed to make the long sea voyage to the Colonies.

Freddie would be waiting. He had sailed for a town named Charleston in a place called South Carolina and she intended to find him. But she had to leave soon, before it was too near her time to make the journey.

Mary pulled her shawl a little tighter and kept on walking. She had sent a message with one of the local chimney sweeps, a note she had hired a scribe to write that simply read I know everything. Meet me at the Cock and Thistle Tuesday at midnight.

Mary was certain he would come. He had too much to lose not to answer her summons.

It was a bit of a walk to the tavern, but she didn't have much money, not enough for a hackney, at any rate. She had picked the Cock and Thistle because it was far enough away that she wouldn't be recognized but not so far that she couldn't make it afoot.