CHAPTER ONE

Margaret had been married to her

husband for eight months, sixteen days,and – if her calculations were correct,which they almost always were –approximately two and a half hours.During those eight months, sixteen daysand (approximately) two and a half hoursshe had seen her husband a grand total ofone time. At their wedding, no less, where

he had arrived drunk, slurred his vows,and sealed her fate with a sloppy kiss thathad landed on her left earlobe instead ofher lips.

She did not blame him for imbibingin a bit too much whisky before walkingdown the aisle. She would have gladlygotten drunk herself had it not been for thewatchful eye of her mother, but ArabellaCombs, knowing full well the willfulnature of her eldest daughter, had keptMargaret under lock and key until it wastime for the ceremony to begin.

Arabella had carefully planned outevery miniscule detail for the ‘wedding ofthe season’ (as it was now referred sinceno one else of social significance hadgotten married since that fateful November

day) well before the bans had even beenread and she had been determined not tolet anything – or anyone – ruin it.

“Well you certainly got what youwanted, Mother,” said Margaret to no onein particular, for no one in particular wasaround. “I am wed to a Duke, and one dayyour grandchildren shall carry titles higherthan your own. I hope you are happy, for Iam not, and I fear I never will be.”

Rolling over onto her stomach, sheswatted at a piece of grass that threatenedto tickle her nose and dropped her head onone lanky arm. Overhead the summer sunbeat down unmercifully and she wishedshe had not forgotten her bonnet. Now herfreckles would be blatantly obvious, whenbefore they had only shown in certain

light, and her red hair would turn evenredder – though how that was possible,she had no idea; she just knew it wouldbecause that is what her mother alwayssaid – and she would look like a heathen.A tall, freckle faced, red haired heathen.

“Oh who the bloody hell cares,” shegrumbled, for it was true. No one but theservants saw her, and since they had yet tocomplain about her new habit of wearingboy’s clothing she highly doubted theywould raise a fuss over a few freckles.Besides, freckles and red hair were notthe worst of her worries.

Since her wedding Margaret hadbeen stranded at Heathridge, a fivehundred acre ramshackle estate thatbelonged to her new husband. She did not

mind her isolated surroundings so much asthe boredom that came with them. Therewas nothing to do, no one to talk to. Nomischief to make. Her three closestfriends had stayed for as long as theycould after the wedding, but they all hadtheir own lives to get back to.

Catherine was pregnant again withher fourth child, Josephine was touring thecontinent with her lover, and Grace waspreparing for her own wedding to the veryill suited – in Margaret’s opinion – LordMelbourne.

“I could wither away and die hereand no one would notice,” she sigheddramatically. Flopping over onto herback, she shaded her eyes against the sunand chewed down on her bottom lip. What

she needed was a new adventure.Something to occupy the hours betweenbreakfast and dinner. A new horse to train,perhaps.

For a moment Margaret’s entire facelit up, until she remembered her husbandhad run off with every cent of her ratherextensive dowry right after dumping her athis rotting excuse of an estate. She stilldid not know if he had intentionallystranded her without a penny to her name,or if the thought had simply not occurredto him to set up an allowance for his newwife before he took off for the unknown,but either way the result was the same.Until he returned, or by some miracle herparents decided to come and rescue her,she was stuck. She could not escape even

if she wanted to, for the carriage housewas devoid of a carriage and the barnheld nothing but horses so old their backssagged nearly to the ground.

She had attempted to hire someoneto take her to London, but no one within atwenty mile radius would supply a servicewithout money up front due to herhusband’s unpaid debts.

“I am a poor Duchess,” Margaretsighed. Tipping her head to the side shearched an eyebrow at the sheep grazingnext to her. “Have you ever heard of apoor Duchess? No? Well, me either.Although no use crying over spilt milk, Isuppose. Stiff upper lip, best foot forwardand all that. Here we go.”

Springing to her feet she wiped her

grass stained palms on the sides of thebrown breeches one of the stable boys hadgiven her before he left and straightenedout her white linen shirt. It belonged to herhusband (consequently it was the onlything she had of his since he had forgottento give her a ring) and was nearly threesizes too big. The long hem line helpeddistract from the fact that her breeches –while in otherwise good condition –ended just below her knees. Had it notbeen for her shock of fiery red hair thattumbled nearly to her waist and hernarrow, pixie like face that could never beconfused for anything but female,Margaret might have passed for a boy,something she would not have minded inthe least.

It was an inescapable fact that menhad better luck than women. Why, justlook at her husband: eight months ago hehad been broke and destitute; now he wasrich as a lark and off traveling the worldspending her dowry while she was stuckin his downtrodden estate. Not fair at all,that.

Giving the sheep an absent pat on itsfurry head, Margaret skipped down theside of the hill and half walked, half ranthe rest of the way to Heathridge.

In better hands the fifty seven room

estate must have been nothing short ofmagnificent, but time and neglect hadtaken its toll. Paint was peeling from thewindow trim. Large chunks of plaster

were missing from the walls. Even thegrass surrounding the estate wasovergrown and filled with weeds after thegardener had quit and there had been nomoney to replace him. The inside of themansion was no better than the outside,with dingy floors, dusty tapestries, and anoverpowering smell of mold on rainydays.

Flushed and perspiring slightly,Margaret slowed to a more dignified walkjust short of the front steps. They spiraledout from the main door, yet even they werechipped on the edges and grass had begunto grow between the granite cracks.

Hastings, thebutler/footman/occasional head cook mether just inside the door with a cool glass

of lemon water. A portly man in his earlyfifties, he had loyally served at Heathridgefor thirty years and had not received asalary for the last two of them. Still hestayed on, mostly in part because he hadno where else to go, and no family tospeak of.

“Here you are, Lady Winter,” hesaid, extending the glass to Margaret.

She took it and drank thirstily,hiccupped, and set the glass aside on adusty table. “I have told you not to call methat,” she reminded him sternly.

“It is your name,” he said.“No, it is my husband’s name. And

we both know I am hardly a Lady, so whybother with all the fuss? Call me Margaretif you must, Maggie if you want, and

never, ever,” she paused to shudder,“address me as Duchess.”

The hint of a smile appearedbeneath Hastings’ rather impressive saltand pepper moustache. “As you wish,Lady Winter.”

Margaret threw her hands up in theair. “Heavens, why do I even bother?What time is dinner tonight, Hastings?”

“Half past five o’ clock, LadyWinter.”

“I have time for a ride, then?”“If you wish.”“Ha!” she cried triumphantly. “You

did not do it that time.”“Do what, Lady Winter?”Her shoulders slumped. “I give up.

If I am not back in time for dinner, start

without me.”“Certainly not,” said Hastings,

looking appalled at the very idea.Margaret rolled her eyes. “There

are five people living here besidesmyself, Hastings. Why should you all haveto wait if I am running late? Just keep aplate warm and I will eat when I return.”Turning on her heel, she trotted down thesteps before Hastings could argue withher, and went directly to the stables.

Destroyed by a fire and recently

rebuilt, the ten stall barn was the onlybuilding on the property that had not falleninto a state of disrepair and Margaret wasdetermined to keep it that way. She calledeach horse by name as she strolled down

the freshly raked aisle and one by one theypopped their heads over their stall doorsto greet her with warm nickers ofaffection.

“Are you hungry?” she asked,pausing to scratch Poppy, a darkpalomino, under her chin.

In her younger years Poppy hadplowed the fields that now lay fallowbehind the main house, but now she hadmore gray hairs on her face than brownand walked with a slight limp. Her sweetnature made her one of Margaret’sfavorites, and she often spoiled the marewith carrots and apples stolen from thekitchen.

Hay was piled neatly at the end ofthe barn. Filling a wheelbarrow with the

sweet smelling dried grass, she fed eachhorse in turn and when they were allnibbling at their hay exchanged thewheelbarrow for a large bucket of oats.She soaked Poppy’s grain for the old draftmare had little teeth left to chew with, andopened up all of the stalls to let the horsesout into their evening grazing pasturewhen they were finished eating. They filedpast her one by one, too used to their dailyroutine to raise a fuss, and she followedthem out to swing the gate closed behindthem.

Now came the not so pleasant part,but it had to be done, and after scoopingher hair up underneath a floppy hat androlling up her shirt sleeves, Margaretfetched another wheelbarrow and began

mucking out the stalls.It was hard labor, but she enjoyed

the simple quietness of it. A wry smilecaptured her lips as she remembered howher muscles had screamed in protest whenshe had first taken over care of the entirestables, but now her arms were strong andeasily capable of dumping manure andhauling pails of water to and from thestalls.

She was nearly finished when anunfamiliar whinny rang through the air.Still holding her pitchfork, Margaretpoked her head out the front aisle way andwatched with interest as a gleaming bayapproached. She was so entranced by thehorse’s fine build and elegant way ofmoving that she didn’t even notice the

rider until he dropped to the ground infront of her and placed the horse’s reins inher hands.

“Here,” he said, looking past her.“Cool him out and groom him.”

Margaret bit the inside of her cheekto keep from laughing. Oh, she noticed therider now all right, although he certainlydid not notice her. “Would you have mefeed him as well?” she asked, deliberatelyspeaking in a low voice.

“Yes, of course,” said the rider in ashort, clipped tone. “And have him tackedagain in an hour. I will not be staying herelong.”

“Might I ask why?”The rider turned and leveled dark

green eyes on her. Margaret held her

breath, waiting for him to recognize her,but he merely reached in his pocket andtossed her two coins which she reachedout to catch automatically. “Cool him out,groom him, and feed him. I will be back inan hour.”

Without another word he walkedaway towards the house. Margaret staredafter him in wordless disbelief, certain atany moment he was going to turn aroundand come back. When the front doorslammed behind him, she shook her head.

“Can you believe that?” she askedthe bay. The horse regarded her in stoicsilence. “Yes well,” she continued,grunting a bit as she loosened thestallion’s tight cinch, “you have to beloyal to him. You’re his horse. But I’m

just his wife, and I don’t like him a’ tall.”

CHAPTER TWO

Henry James Sebastian Winter, the

sixth Duke of Heathridge, was in a foulmood. He had been traveling for threedays straight in order to see his wife, andthe blasted woman was not where sheshould have been. Had he not left her withexplicitly clear instructions? Remain atHeathridge until his return. At least, that iswhat he was pretty sure he had said; dueto his intoxicated state on the day of the

wedding, the details were still a littleblurry.

He had already wasted oneinfuriating hour searching every inch ofhis childhood home looking for someoneto tell him where Lady Winter was, but itseemed the number of servants haddecreased dramatically since his last visitand the only person he could find was atimid maid who had no idea where hermistress had gone. He wondered wherethe hell Hastings was. Henry knew the oldbutler had to be around somewhere, but ifhe was he refused to show himself.

Cursing liberally under his breath,he stomped out of the house and back tothe stables. He was not going to waste onemore second looking for the spoiled brat

he had married. No doubt she had takenherself off to her parent’s house and wassitting in some parlor sipping lemonadewhile he covered himself in dirt and grimelooking for her. Stopping short of the barn,Henry shrugged out of his jacket and gaveit a good shake. He watched in disgust asdust billowed into the air. Where ever hiswife was, she was not doing the duties hehad ascribed to her. He had never seenHeathridge in such a sorry state before.He almost feel sorry for the grand olddame, left as she was to crumble and rotatop her very foundation.

Curiously enough the only place thatlooked half way decent was the stables,and his boots stepped over freshly laidstraw as he walked inside. “Hello?” he

called, squinting as his eyesight adjusted.“I am here for my horse.”

The same stable lad he had handedFinnegan over too upon his arrival poppedabruptly out of a nearby stall, startlinghim. The boy’s clothes were even dirtierthan before and he smelled of manure anddirt. His nose wrinkling, Henry took asolid step back. “Where is my horse? I’mleaving.”

“So soon?” the boy asked, leaningup against a beam and cocking a hip. Astray beam of sunlight shone in through theentrance of the barn, highlighting half ofthe lad’s face. His skin was unnaturallysmooth for a boy’s and freckles litteredhis cheeks. A ridiculously oversized hatcovered his eyes. He couldn’t have been

much older than thirteen or fourteen andHenry felt an unfamiliar twinge of pity.The lad clearly worked hard keeping thebarn neat and tidy. He was doing the jobof a full grown man and if the slimness ofhis body was any indication the work hadbegun to take its toll.

“Just get my horse if you would,”Henry said, not unkindly. “I will pay youfor your time.”

“I put your horse out with the othersin the back field. He was quite tired.”

Pity was rapidly replaced byannoyance. “You turned him out? Well goget him! I want to be on the road againbefore dark.”

The boy lifted his narrow shouldersin a shrug. “I can’t get him now.”

“And why is that?”“Cause he’s made friends with

Poppy and it would hurt her feelings tohave him leave so soon. Why are you insuch a hurry to leave anyways?”

“That,” Henry grinded out, “is noneof your damn business.” He stomped pastthe boy, intending to go get his horse byhimself, but the boy’s next words stoppedhim cold.

“If you’re looking for your wife Iknow where she is.”

Henry whirled around. “You haveseen my wife?”

“Sure. I see her all the time. Whatdo you want with her?” The boy actuallyhad the gall to grin at him, revealingevenly spaced white teeth and a dimple

high on his left cheek.Henry felt his annoyance kick up

another notch and he clenched his handsinto fists to prevent himself from reachingout and strangling the boy. “Is she stillhere at Heathridge?” he managed to say ina fairly even tone.

“Course she is. She’s right here inthe barn, in fact.”

In the barn? Henry’s head whippedback and forth as he looked up and downthe freshly raked aisle. Every stall doorwas neatly closed. The small room thathoused the tack and harnesses was lockedfrom the outside. Unless his wife washiding in one of the stalls she wasn’t here,and he did not appreciate being made tolook like a fool.

“I don’t see her,” he growled.“Maybe you aren’t looking hard

enough.”Henry inhaled sharply. “How long

have you worked here?” he demanded.“Oh, about eight and a half months,”

said the boy. For some reason he lookedon the verge of laughing and Henry beganto wonder if perhaps the arrogant ladwasn’t a bit daft.

“If you want to keep your job herelearn to speak with some respect in yourtone or you’ll find yourself out on yourear,” he said sharply, green eyes flashing.

The boy looked slightly taken abackby the reprimand, but it was for his owngood. There was no place in the workforce for servants who talked back to their

employers and it was best they learnedthat invaluable lesson at a young age.

The boy stepped away from the postand crossed his thin arms. His mouthsettled into a mulish frown and he gave asharp tug on the brim of his hat, pulling itdown lower over his face. “You’re rude,”he muttered.

Henry’s eyes widened. “Excuseme?”

“I said you are rude,” the boy shotback.

“And I say you’re fired!”“Good. I wasn’t getting paid

anyways. You can clean your own damnstables from now on!” The boy whippedhis oversized hat off with a flourish toreveal long curls of auburn hair that

instantly transformed the he into a she.Henry’s jaw clenched. He had only

seen hair that red on one woman before.Tight lipped, he turned on his heel andstalked out of the barn.

She had really done it this time. A

bit stunned at her own daring, Margarethurried after Henry. Her shorter legs wereno match for his long ones and she had tobreak into a run to catch up. He did notspare her so much as a sideways glance asshe pulled alongside him, but he did stopshort in the middle of the drive which shetook as a good sign.

“H-hello,” she said, a bit out ofbreath from the short sprint. “How areyou?”

Silence.“I apologize for tricking you. It was

not a very kind thing to do.” Even if youbloody well deserved it, you blunderingape of a man.

Silence.“So you have finally come to visit

me? For what reason do I owe thisunexpected pleasure?” This time she madeno effort to disguise the sarcasm in hertone. And why should she? It wasn’t herfault the man was so blind he couldn’trecognize his own wife. She bet even ifshe was in a dress with her hair curled hewouldn’t know who she was! Margaret’stemper began to simmer. Not only that, buthe had been impossibly rude to her whenhe thought she was a stable lad. She could

not abide people who were rude to theirservants. A man’s true character wasrevealed by how he treated those beneathhim, and Henry’s dark nature had just beenunearthed in spades.

“I am leaving,” she decidedabruptly.

“No,” Henry said, his voicedeceptively soft. “You are not.”

His fingers reached out withsurprising quickness to wrap around herwrist, effectively holding her in place.Margaret considered trying to yank herhand away, but his grip felt like steel, andshe would only embarrass herself.Pinching her lips together she lookedaway from him towards the house, waitingfor him to make the next move. She did not

have to wait for very long.“In two weeks I will be traveling to

London on business. You will accompanyme,” he said after a brief pause.Unwrapping his fingers from her wrist, hewiped them clean on a white silkhandkerchief he procured from the vestpocket of his riding jacket.

The gesture was not lost onMargaret, but she was too fixated on whathe had said to comment on it. “I will notgo with you!” she cried, positively aghast.

He stared down at her withoutexpression. “This is not a matter open fordiscussion.”

She almost felt sorry for the poorman. No doubt he expected her to bow her

head and go meekly along with whateverhe had planned. She could only assume thewomen he had encountered in his life thusfar had been so in awe of his title they hadall but swooned at his feet. He hadprobably been told countless time howhandsome and intelligent he was.

All right, so he was quite handsome,with his sandy blond hair, lean frame, andpiercing green eyes – she would give himthat – but intelligent? Margaret bit back asnort. Hardly. “And why in the worldwould I go with you?” she asked.

“Because you are my wife,” he saidsimply.

“And why, pray tell, have youdecided to play the part of dutiful husbandafter all these months? A guilty

conscience, perhaps?” she said sweetly.“You are quite ill mannered,” he

observed, glancing at her with a distractedfrown as if he had forgotten she was there.

Margaret felt a new wave of angerspilling over her, so potent she nearlychoked on it. Even when he was standingright in front of her Henry could not bebothered to give her his full attention. “And you, sir, are a lummox!”

“It is getting quite late,” he said,ignoring her insult. “I shall have to spendthe night here. Go inform the servants thatI will require the master bedroom madeready, a bath to be drawn, and a dinnerplate brought up.”

She wondered what he would do ifshe kicked him in the shin. Probably

whisk me off to London all the morequickly, she thought darkly. It was ironic,really. Here she had been bemoaning thefact that her husband had abandoned her,and now that he had returned she wantednothing more than for him to leave again.

“Did you hear me?” Henry asked.Margaret released a very unladylike

snort and tossed her head. “Oh, I heardyou all right. Will I do as you ask? Now,that is the question, Your Grace. And theanswer to that question is no!” With thatsaid, she spun on her heel and stompedback to the stables without so much as abackwards glance.

Henry watched his wife stalk down

the driveway in stunned silence. Had she

actually just told him no? Surely he hadmisheard her. No one refused him. Ever.

His brow furrowed as he watchedher trim derriere – showcased beautifullyin those God awful breeches – disappearfrom view. He rubbed his chin. It seemedhe had just been told no, and by his ownwife no less.

It defied all reason. The poorwoman had obviously gone mad in hisabsence. It was the only explanation thatmade sense. A pity, really. She had beenso sweet when he first met her. Nothing atall like the little hellion that had all butspat in his eye just then. And herappearance. Good Lord. He must havebeen more foxed than he realized on theday of his wedding to agree to marry a

woman who looked like that. All bonesand sharp angles she was, with the sourdisposition and fiery red hair to match.Shaking his head in disbelief, Henrycontinued on towards the house.

Heathridge was still suspiciously

devoid of servants when Henry reentered,but now that he knew his wife wasdefinitely in residence, he would put upwith no more tom foolery.

“I know you are here,” he bellowedup the stairs. “And if you do not comedown within the next five seconds, I willhave you all replaced.”

Dust flew as three maids and a grimfaced Hastings magically appeared. Theylined up in front of him with their backs

facing the stairs and a sorrier looking lotHenry had yet to see.

“Where are the rest of you?” heasked.

“This is all there is, Yer Grace,”said the tallest of the three maids, anarrow faced woman with frizzy blackhair and a rather long nose.

“This is all?” Henry repeatedincredulously. Rocking back on his heelshe folded his hands behind his back andfixed Hastings – the only one herecognized – with a steely eyed glare.“What happened to Manning? Phelps? Timand Tom, the livery lads? Claurice, thecook?”

“Gone,” said Hastings, staringstraight ahead.

“Gone? What the bloody hell do youmean, gone? Where did they go?”

“Lady Winter let them go,” said thetall maid when no one else spoke up.

Well that certainly explained thedisreputable condition of the house andgrounds. What it did not explain was whyhis wife had fired three quarters of thestaff without his permission! “Ready themaster bedroom. Have a hot bath drawn, adinner plate brought up, and for the loveof God open up the windows. It is hot ashell in here,” he demanded before he wentback outside. It was high time he andMargaret had a serious conversation…and this time he wasn’t going to take ‘no’for an answer.

CHAPTER THREE

Unfortunately for Henry, Margaret

was not in the mood to have a seriousconversation. She was, however, in themood for riding and now that she had abeautiful stallion at her disposal sawnothing wrong with taking her husband’sbay out for a gallop through the fieldsbefore sunset.

With the wind in her hair and theground dropping away beneath her feet

she could finally forget the worries thathad plagued her for the past eight months.Worries about if her husband would everreturn. Worries about having to let half ofthe servants go. Worries about being ableto pay the half who remained. Worriesabout ever seeing her friends again.Worries about never finding true love forshe certainly had not found it with Henry,insufferable cad that he was.

The stallion ate up the ground, histhundering hooves echoing in the eveningstillness. Hunched low over his neck, herfingers buried in his mane and her thighstight against the saddle, Margaret urgedthe bay even faster as they shot through anarrow stretch of woods and into themeadow beyond. Sheep scattered and

cows mooed plaintively as the duo flewpast, a blur of sleek brown and fiery red.

When her mount’s breaths becamelabored Margaret stood up in her stirrups,leaning her weight against the bay to slowhim down to a more manageable trot.“Easy boy,” she murmured, pressing herhand to his lathered shoulder. “Easynow.”

Having tasted freedom the stallionstill wanted to run and jigged all the wayback to the stables, tossing his head andwhinnying his displeasure for all to hear.

A lesser rider would have beenintimidated by the bay’s spirit, but aftermonths of slow ambling walks on the likesof Poppy the draft horse Margaret found itrefreshing. She understood better than

most what it felt like to be held back. They had entered the stable yard and

she was about to dismount when she feltthe bay go rigid beneath her. He stoppedabruptly, dark eyes rolling, and inconfusion Margaret stroked her fingersthrough his windswept mane. “What is it,boy? Everything is exactly the same as –oh.”

“What the HELL are you doing onmy horse?” In three angry strides wasacross the yard and had yanked Margaretfrom the saddle. One arm curled aroundher waist while the other ripped the reinsout of her grasp. She could not so much asutter a syllable of protest before she waswrenched to the ground. Her feet hit first,and then her rump as Henry let her go

without warning. Arms wind millingwildly Margaret staggered backwardsand, with nothing to stop her fall, landedhard on her backside in a plume of dust.

Dazed and disoriented she shookher head to clear it, but made no attempt toget up. It was safer – for Henry – if sheremained on the ground. When she wasthis angry, there was no telling what shewas capable of. “Of all the insufferable,obnoxious, childish, ill mannered—”

“Shut up.”Margaret’s entire face turned a

rather alarming shade of red. “Excuseme?” she sputtered, unable to believewhat her husband had just said. No one,but no one talked to her like that. Not evenher own mother and God only knew what

Arabella was capable of. “I said shut up,” Henry repeated.

Holding the reins of the bay just below thebit with one hand, he rested the other onone lean hip and stared her down witheyes that might as well have been carvedfrom ice. “You arrogant little wench. Youvery well could have killed yourself,pulling a stunt like that.”

Margaret scrambled to her feet,heedless of the dirt that now coated herbreeches and the pieces of leaves andgrass stuck in her hair. “I am an excellentrider,” she declared hotly. “Not that youwould know, seeing as you have neverseen me ride!”

The hand on his hip clenched into afist. “I don’t have to see you ride to know

you can’t handle Finnegan. No one canexcept for me and you are never to touchhim again. Is that clear?”

It was most certainly not clear, butMargaret knew when to pick her battles.She bit her tongue and nodded stiffly.

“Good,” said Henry, looking ratherpleased. “Now go inside and cleanyourself up. Over dinner we shall discussthe trip to London.”

You mean over my dead body ,Margaret thought. She positively abhorredthe city with its foul odor and bustlingstreets. Everyone was always shoutingand she felt horrible for the poor horsesthat had to pull the heavy merchant carts.

Poppy had once been owned by abaker who used her to haul his flour back

from the mill and the poor dear still hadthe scars over her withers from the illfitting harness to prove it.

Margaret could not imagine whatbusiness Henry would have in London thistime of the year when the entire peeragewas in the country. Something thatinvolved spending the rest of her money,no doubt. Unless he had spent it allalready. Either way she had no intentionof finding out. She had spent this longstuck at Heathridge, what were a fewmore months? When Josephine returnedfrom France they were planning on doinga tour of the continent together.Josephine’s husband would be footing thebill as he always did and no expensewould be spared. Margaret could not think

of anything she had ever looked forwardto quite as much.

“Very well,” she said, her voicesweet as sugared icing. “I will meet you inthe dining room at a quarter past the hour.”

“You will?” Henry saidsuspiciously.

“But of course, Your Grace. Yourwish is my every command.” Did womenbat their eyelashes? Margaret was notpositive, but she thought they might, so shegave a few hard blinks for good measure.

“Is something in your eye?” Henrysaid, now sounding faintly alarmed.

Margaret stopped blinking.“Where is the livery man?” he

asked, glancing back at the bay who wasstill breathing quite heavily. “Finnegan

needs to be walked, groomed, and beddeddown for the night.”

Sucking furiously on the inside ofher cheek in an effort to keep a straightface, Margaret nodded sagely. “Of coursehe does. Best make dinner half past thehour then.”

“Why?” Henry frowned.“Because,” Margaret began, her

vibrant blue eyes glistening with illdisguised humor, “it shall take you at leastthat long to walk him, groom him, and bedhim down for the night.” Spinning quicklyon her heel, she flounced away towardsthe house, oblivious to her husband’sangry blustering as he demanded to knowwhere the damn livery man had gone.

An hour later, his stomach growlingwith hunger and his body vibrating withangry tension, Henry stormed into thedining room. He found the long mahoganytable sparsely set for two. Candles hadbeen lit in an attempt to give the room asense of ambiance, however candlescould not make up for the fact that thewalls had been stripped of their paintingsand the wooden floor beneath his feet wasbare of the Persian rug that had been in hisfamily for two generations. Candles alsodid not disguise the chair at the end of histable where he wife should have beensitting was empty.

“HASTINGS!” he roared.The butler appeared in the doorway,

hands folded in front of him, posture erect,

eyes staring straight ahead. “Yes, yourGrace?” he asked.

Henry began to pace back and forthin front of the table. “Where is my wife?”he snapped.

“Lady Winter is still preparing fordinner, your Grace,” Hastings lied baldly.Lady Winter, still wearing the sameclothes she had gone riding in, was at thisvery moment in the parlor reading.Hastings would have told the Duke wherehis wife was, but she had given himimplicit instructions ‘not to tell that oaf abloody thing’ and his allegiance, for thetime being, was with the Duchess.

“Where are the rest of theservants?”

“They were let go, your Grace.”

Henry stopped short and swungaround. “Yes, I am aware of that! But whywere they let go, Hastings?”

Unperturbed by his master’s tirade,Hastings continued to stare straight ahead.“Lack of funds, I believe,” he said.

“Lack of… lack of what?” Henrysputtered incredulously. It sounded likeHastings had just said the reason theservants had been let go was due to lackof funds, but that could not correct. He hadbeen sending money to his accountant forthe past eight months, enough to cover theexpenses, pay the servant’s salaries, andleave Margaret with a healthy allowancebesides. Where had the money gone?Certainly not back into the estate. Theplace was falling down around his very

ears! There was only one clear answer hecould see and that answer lay with hiswife. By God, he did not know how thewoman had managed to spend a verifiablefortune on herself in less than a year, buthe intended to find out.

“Can you please,” he said tersely,“inform Lady Winter that I require herpresence in the dining room. Now!”

Hastings bowed low. “Of course,Your Grace.”

“And be quick about it,” Henryadded. He was not usually possessed ofsuch a short temper, but nothing was goingas he imagined it would. Finding the estatein ruin and his own wife – his wife! –dressed as a stable lad had been quiteenough, but then to have Margaret openly

defy him by refusing to come to Londonwas the last straw. Where had the sweet,shy girl gone whom he had married?Wealthy heiresses willing to marry a Dukewere not exactly in short supply. Henryhad had his pick, and had settled onMargaret because he fancied her looksand quiet demeanor.

Now it was clear to see it had allbeen an act to get his family’s ring on hergreedy little finger, conspiring chit thatshe was. Spend all his money, would she?Tell him no, would she? Henry’s handscurled into fists before he sent themcrashing down on the edge of the table,hard enough to rattle the dishes. He hadbeen taken for a fool once, a long timeago, and his mouth hardened at the painful

memory. He was not going to allow it tohappen again.

“You called for me?” An insolentvoice drawled from the doorway.

Henry whirled around. His eyesnarrowed, then widened in disbelief as hegazed upon his wife and saw she was stillwearing the riding clothes he had orderedher to change out of. Dirt smudged one faircheek and her hair fell in unruly curlsdown her back. Her boots were mudstained, her shirt un-tucked. In short, shewas a mess from head to toe.

“You look like a man,” he saidderisively.

Her lips curved. “At least thatmakes one of us.”

Henry’s entire body went rigid as he

was filled with the violent urge to takeMargaret by the shoulders and shake somesense into her. He actually took a stepforward before he came to his senses andgave a stiff nod to the empty chair at thefar end of the table. “Sit,” he ordered.

To his surprise Margaret did as heasked, although she took her time,sauntering around the long way beforeplopping her into the chair he hadindicated. Once seated she picked up afork and began to twirl it idly between herfingers, her expression pensive.

“I have been thinking,” she saidsuddenly, breaking the tense silence thathad sprung up between them.

Henry slowly lowered himself intohis chair at the opposite end of the table

and rested his elbows on either side of hisplace setting. “And?” he prodded whenshe fell silent.

“And… And I have decided I do notlike you. At all,” she clarified, less hewas under the false impression she likedhim a small amount.

“That is unfortunate,” Henry said.Her narrow shoulders dipped and

bobbed in a shrug. She began to fiddlewith her napkin, the only sign she was notquite as composed as her level voicewould leave him to believe. “And I do notwish to accompany you to London,” shecontinued briskly. “Or anywhere else forthat matter.”

“That is unfortunate,” he repeated.Blue eyes, the color of a clear sky

on a bright summer day, peeked up at himbeneath a fringe of russet lashes.Incredibly long, curly lashes, Henry notedabsently. And such an unusual color.Neither red nor blond nor brown, but amixture of all three. The same as her hair.Had he ever really thought it was red? No,he decided. Not red. It was gold fire, thelikes of which he had never seen before.Her curls shimmered in the candlelight,drawing his eye like a moth to flame.

“It is not that you are a horribleman, or an ill tempered one. We simply donot compliment each other,” she said.

Surprised to discover he was ratherstarting to enjoy himself, Henry reclinedback in his chair and raised one eyebrow.“Is that so?” he said.

Margaret nodded vigorously. “Yes.Precisely so.”

Now it was Henry’s turn to playwith his fork. He turned the utensil overand over in his hand, studying the silverhandle as if it was the most fascinatingthing in the world before he said, in adeceptively calm voice, “Where thebloody hell is all of my money?”

“ Y o u r … y o u r money?” shesqueaked.

“Yes. My money. The money I senthere every month since I left. The moneythat should have been going back into theestate to pay for its upkeep. Since the roofis all but falling down around us, I have toask, darling, sweet wife. What have youbeen spending it on? Surely not clothes.”

“Your money?” Margaret repeated,leaving Henry to wonder if his wife was abit daft.

“Yes,” he said, all thoughts as to thecolor of her hair banished as angerbrought his blood to a rapid boil. “For thepast year I have sent you a damn fortune!Yet I return to find three quarters of thestaff dismissed, the gardens in completedisrepair, the fields empty of crops, andthe house a mess. So let’s hear it, madam.Where has the money gone?”

“Eight months,” she said quietly.“What?” Henry frowned, certain he

had misunderstood her.Margaret got to her feet. Leaning

towards him, she spoke in a voice loudenough to be heard in the next town over.

“Eight months, sixteen days, and ninehours. That is how long you have beengone. Not a year. Not quite yet.”

Henry rose out of his chair as well.“Of all the absurd, ridiculous things tokeep track of that is most certainly the –”

“Time is all I have had to keep trackof since you left!” she shouted, cutting himoff mid sentence. “There never was anymoney, not since you ran off with mydowry, you old goat, and stranded me herenext to penniless. The servants left when Icould no longer pay them! You mock myclothes, but this is all I have to wear. I hadto sell my dresses to pay for the staff thatremains!”

“Did you just call me an old goat?”Henry asked.

Margaret gave a short, annoyed dipof her head.

“And are you meaning to tell me youhave received no money since I left?” hesaid in a dangerous whisper.

Another nod, this one slightly morehesitant.

His head spinning, Henry sat downhard in his chair. It was true, he had takenthe money provided by Margaret’s dowrywith him before he left… But only to sinkit into an overseas shipping operation thathad returned his investment ten fold withinthe month.

One would think a Duke would nothave to worry so over finances, howeverHenry was no ordinary Duke. His father,and his father before him, and his father

before him had made certain of that withtheir gambling debts and need to spendmoney as if it were water. By the time heinherited Heathridge from his father uponhis passing there had been less than afarthing left to the family name and enoughdebt to sink a small country.

Henry had managed to keep therumors down to a bare minimum, butknowing the word would soon get out thatHeathridge was falling into ruin, he haddone what only a desperate man would bedriven to do: he had gotten married.

Having always possessed a head forfigures and a knack for turning one guineainto two, Henry knew if he could only finda way to get his hands on a large sum ofmoney he would be able to restore honor

to his family’s name and save Heathridgebesides. Unfortunately for the new Duke,no creditor in England or any of hersurrounding territories would lend himwhat he needed, thus the idea of marryinga wealthy heiress was born.

Now, however, staring across thetable at his wife who had been no morethan an unknowing pawn in his scheme,Henry felt an overpowering sense of guilt.It had been easy enough to think ofMargaret as just another creditor when hehad been away from her but now… Nowhe was forced to face the consequences ofhis actions.

Taking a deep breath, Henryprepared to tell Margaret the sad, sorrytale in its entirety.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Margaret, get out here this

instant,” Henry growled.“No,” she said, her voice muffled

by the door between them.Grasping the door handle Henry

gave the door a solid shove with hisshoulder. The blasted thing refused tomove an inch. It was locked and – by thefeel of it, for he had broken down his fairshare of locked doors in his time and was

not a weak man – had been braced withsomething quite heavy. His foreheadthudded against the smooth wood as hiseyes pinched shut in exasperation. “Youare acting like a child.”

“I know,” she replied cheerfully.Henry’s eyes snapped open. The

chit was incorrigible. He normallyreserved the word for the rakehells andrascals he dealt with, but he found it fitMargaret quite well. She was as stubbornas any man he had ever come across. Notto mention unruly, hard headed, andimpossible to manage. How his friends –and enemies – would roll with laughter ifthey could see him now. Locked out of hisown bedroom by his wife. It was absurd.It was ridiculous. It was exactly what he

would do if he were in her shoes, Henrywas forced to admit with the tracings of asmile.

After he had told Margaret the truthbehind the financial state of Heathridgeand his reason for marrying her, she hadthrown a plate at his head and runupstairs. In the span of a few minutesHenry had come to three conclusions: thefirst being his accountant, dead manwalking that he was, had apparently beenrobbing him blind. Second, his wife had arather excellent throwing arm. And third,she was really quite beautiful when shewas angry.

So no, Henry did not blameMargaret for throwing fine china at hishead. Still, it would not do to let her think

she had the upper hand. The woman waslike a lioness. Any sign of weakness andshe would go in for the kill, teeth baredand claws unsheathed.

“Open the door now,” he demanded,kicking the unyielding wood in frustration.

“Or you will do what?” she tauntedhim.

“Or I will take my gun, go out to thefield, and shoot that nag you call a horse.”The instant the words were out of hismouth Henry regretted them. Not onlywould he never do such a thing, but heknew how much Margaret cared for Poppysimply by the way the old mare’s coat wasbrushed to a sheen and she had been thefirst one up to the fence when he hadturned out Finnegan, searching his pockets

for the treats she expected to find. “Thatwas out of hand. I apologize. Of course Iwould never –”

He did not have time to finish hisapology for without warning the door flewtowards him, knocking him soundly in thetemple. Cursing, Henry stumbled back,trying to regain his balance. Before he hadtime to get his feet back under him,however, his arms were filled withkicking, shrieking female.

“Shoot my horse, will you?”Margaret raged at him while her tiny fistspummeled any part of his body she couldreach.

“Margaret, stop! This is absurd. Isaid I was –” Henry’s words came outgargled when one lucky punch caught him

right on his throat. He gasped, his mouthopening and closing like a fish out ofwater.

“Drag me off to London, will you?”she yelled, kicking at his shins with thepointy toes of her boots.

Hopping on one foot and clutchinghis neck, Henry managed to duck into aroom behind him. It was a guest bedroom,neatly made up with a bed against onewall and a writing desk and chairs againstthe other. As Margaret continued to punch– good heavens, didn’t the woman knowladies never actually hit? Slapped, yes. Astiff right hook to the chin, no – and railagainst him, Henry simply closed his armsaround her slender body in a bear hug andswung her onto the bed.

The impact of hitting the hardmattress knocked the wind out of herlungs, and he took full advantage,pouncing atop her and grabbing her wristsbefore she regained her strength.“Margaret,” he said firmly. “It is time toquit now.”

She shook her head from side toside, spreading gold fire across the whitepillowcase. Her color was high; her eyesbright as blue diamonds glinting under thesun. With every angry breath she took herchest rose and fell, and Henry could nothelp but notice the way her breasts pushedup against his chest. Rather intrigued, heallowed himself to sink a bit closer to heras one hand slid down to tangle in the redcurls of her hair. He wasn’t going to do

anything. Of course not. He just wanted tosee if she felt as soft as she –

“Oomph!” he grunted as her freearm swung up and caught him on the sideof the head. Stars swam in front of hiseyes and he rolled sideways onto hisback. Throwing both arms across his facein surrender, he cried, “Enough, woman!Enough. You’ve done it. You’ve bestedme. Leave off before you do permanentdamage.”

She hadn’t meant to hit him.

Appalled at herself and her wickedbehavior, Margaret swung off the bed andbegan to pace back and forth across theroom, head bent and hands clasped behindher back. She had never struck anyone in

her life. Well, except for her youngerbrother Johnny, but the little rascal haddefinitely deserved it after he threw allher hair ribbons out the window. Thenthere had been Emily, the girl who hadconstantly taunted her about her red hairand freckles, which Margaret had beenable to ignore until Emily threw a stone ather cat. And she mustn’t forget Thomas,young, over zealous Thomas who hadcornered her at her first ball and tried toslip a hand right down her dress. Oh dear.

Stopping at the window, Margaretpulled aside the curtain and stared blindlyout at the front drive. She was a horribleperson. A terrible, awful, wretchedperson to have hit so many people. Whatwould her mother say?

“Margaret?”She spun back towards the bed at

the sound of Henry’s muffled voice. Hewas sprawled across the mattress, hislarge frame covering nearly inch of it. Hisface was still hidden by his arms, so shecouldn’t read his expression, but if thedrawn out suffering in his tone was anyindication she had hurt the poor manunbearably.

“Yes?” she asked, taking a fewsteps towards him.

“You have a wicked right hook.”“Yes,” she confessed, hanging her

head. “I know.”Henry propped himself up on his

elbows and swiveled his head to face her.To her disbelief, the man was actually

grinning. Grinning, as if they had beendiscussing the weather instead of engagingin all out fisticuffs!

“Come here,” he coaxed, crooking afinger.

Hesitantly she shuffled forward andpaused just beyond arms reach. She didn’ttrust that boyish smile he was wearing.Surely he was furious with her. She hadall but assaulted him, for heaven sakes!Then why was he beaming ear to ear likea fool? “What is it?” she askedsuspiciously.

Henry raked a hand through his hairand cupped the back of his neck. “Comecloser,” he said.

“So you can have at me?” One redeyebrow shot up. “I think not!”

“Have at you?” he queried, raisingone eyebrow of his own. “Why Margaret,whatever do you mean?” His lips curvedinto something that was neither a smile nora grin, but a combination of the two with alittle devilish smirk mixed it. They didsomething funny to her belly, those lips. Itfelt like she had swallowed butterflies.Leaping, dancing, pirouetting butterflies. Itwas not an entirely uncomfortablesensation.

“Beat me,” she explained. “Youwill beat me for hurting you.”

“Hurting me?” Henry scoffed. “Idon’t have so much as a bruise, madam.At least not one you can see.”

She nodded sagely. “I have injuredyour ribs, haven’t I? I thought as much. I

am terribly sorry, Henry. It is just when Ilose my temper I tend to go a bit –”

“You didn’t injure my bloody ribs,”he growled. “You’ve struck a blow to mypride, woman. And if you think whathappened here today will ever leave theconfines of this room, you had best thinkagain!”

“Of course not,” said Margaretautomatically. Taking one more steptowards the edge of the bed, her eyesnarrowed as they swept across his body.Perhaps she hadn’t struck him as hard asshe thought she had. Feeling slightlybetter, she began to draw back, but beforeshe could blink, let alone react, Henry hadone arm curled around her waist and waspulling her on top of him.

She landed with a squeal on hischest and instantly tried to wiggle away,but Henry’s arms were like bands of ironand in one swift move that left herbreathless he had flipped her beneath himand her wrists pinned on either side of herhead, rendering her immobile. “Unhandme!” she demanded, even as her heartquickened its beat and the butterflies inher belly went wild.

“No,” said Henry, looking ratherpleased with himself. “Not until you payyour penance.”

“Penance? Penance for what?”“For injuring me,” he said.Margaret bit down on her bottom

lip. “You said you weren’t hurt,” shewhispered, not quite able to meet his gaze.

“My body wasn’t, but my pride was,and a man’s pride, Margaret, is a verysensitive thing.” Releasing one of herwrists, he gently cupped her chin andlifted it until she had no choice but to staredirectly into his burning green eyes. “Whatshall your penance be for committing sucha grave crime?”

“I do not…” Her voice caught. Shelicked her lips, which had suddenly gonedry, and tried again. “I do not know. A…a gift, perhaps?”

“A gift would be nice,” he said,nodding slowly. “But a token would bebetter.”

Her eyebrows knitted together.“A… a token? I fear I do not understand.”

“One token of affection,” Henry

whispered low in her ear, dipping hishead until she could feel his lips moveagainst her skin. “And your penance shallbe served.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Margaret trembled. Had she known

this would be his price for striking him,she never would have raised her fist… Orwould she? Heat was sliding through herbody, dark, damp, traitorous heat thatburned with the fire of a hundred suns.Was this what it felt like to want? Wasthis what it felt like to desire?

“Wh-what token of affection wouldyou like?” she said, gasping when his

teeth grazed her earlobe, lingered, andnipped. Dazedly she realized he was nolonger holding her prisoner. Had releasedboth her wrists a long time ago, in fact.She considered escaping and running forthe hills, but before the idea had time toblossom she plucked it ruthlessly by theroots and tossed it away. Why shouldn’tshe indulge in a bit of passion? She was amarried woman, for heaven sakes. Andstill a virgin, a little voice mockinglyreminded her.

“Oh, do shut up,” she snapped.“What?” Henry asked, frowning

down at her.“Not you.” Belatedly realizing that

did not clear up the confusion whatsoever,Margaret gave a frustrated shake of her

head. “I was just recalling that I was a…oh, never mind!”

Henry captured a long curl of herfiery hair and twirled it between his thumband forefinger. Staring at it in raptfascination, he said in a voice so husky itsent shivers racing through her, “A kissshall restore my bruised pride, I think.Yes, a kiss should do it. Nothing more,nothing less.”

“Nothing more?” Margaret saidbefore she could stop herself. Chagrined,she pinched her eyes shut as her cheekssuffused with color. “Forget I said that,”she muttered.

Henry chuckled. Releasing her hair,he traced the curve of her cheek with hisfingertips as his other hand dipped lower

to span her waist. Everywhere he touchedher she felt her skin grow hot, eventhrough her clothing. Part of her wished hewould hurry up and kiss her already… butthe other part, the new, exciting part,yearned for him to draw out this momentinto eternity. She opened her eyes and herbreath caught when she saw the intenseconcentration on the Duke’s face. His jawwas clenched, his mouth tightly set. If shedidn’t know better she would think he wasin pain.

“I believe I have changed my mind,”he said.

“A-about the k-kiss?” she askedshakily.

“No, not the kiss. I have changed mymind about your choice of dress. I now

find your attire to be quite…” He paused.The hand encompassing her waist shifteddown. Margaret forgot to breathe. Cleverfingers tugged her shirt free from thewaistband of her breeches and pulled itup, stopping just shy of her breasts. Shesqueezed her eyes shut again. The mattresssqueaked as he shifted, moving lower.“Delectable,” he murmured against thesmooth skin of her stomach.

“Oh,” she sighed. “Oh, I feel quitefaint. Do that again.”

Another chuckle, this one as wickedas they came. Henry nibbled, licked, andkissed his way across her ribcage.Margaret mewled like a kitten. He endedabove her belly button and when histongue swirled inside the tiny crevice she

couldn’t help but buck her hips off the bedand clutch his thick, luxurious hair in herhands.

With a low growl he shot up thelength of her body. His hands framed herface and for an instant she was caught inthe depths of his brilliant green eyesbefore he lowered his head and his mouthsought hers in a possessive kiss thatrobbed the very breath from her lungs.

Margaret had never been kissed sorashly. So dominantly. So… so utterlywickedly. His tongue forced her lips apartand slipped into the dark recesses of hermouth, boldly stroking. On a gasp hebroke away only to suckle at her jaw, thecurve of her neck, the delicate skin of herearlobe.

Helpless, Margaret clung to hisbroad shoulders and let him do as hewished. If this was to be her penance forhurting his pride then she would gladlyfight with him every day of the week andtwice on Sundays.

Henry sought her mouth again andshe relinquished it readily, arching intohis kiss with a desperate need thatsurprised them both. His fingers tangled inher hair, pulling just enough to illicit apurr from the depths of her throat. Sheraked her nails down his back and hegroaned, trembling beneath her touch. Shewanted… more. Something she could notname. In quiet desperation her handsswept lower, to the hard curve of Henry’ships. And then as suddenly as the kiss had

begun it ended when Henry pulled awayfrom her and sat back, his eyes pinchedtightly shut and his breathing ragged.

Feeling oddly bereft, Margaret satup herself and leaned against the bed’swrought iron headboard. Her mindwhirled, her thoughts a jumbled mess.Dazedly she bought her fingertips to herlips. They were already swollen,testament to the ravishment they hadreceived. A ravishment she was ratherdisappointed had ended so soon.

“Henry?” she said hesitantly whenhe continued to sit in silence.

His eyes opened. He stared at her,his expression unreadable. “Yes?” he saidafter a moment’s pause.

“Is that… Is that all then?”

One eyebrow quirked. “Were youexpecting more?”

Margaret blushed and looked down.Her fingers fell away from her lips totwine absently in her lap as sheconsidered what to say next. “Well,” shesaid finally, taking a deep breath. “I ratherdid enjoy myself. You are… You are quiteadept at kissing. Not,” she said quickly asher cheeks turned bright pink, “that I am anexpert judge on the matter. Quite theopposite, in fact. But if I were to judge, Iwould say that was a most excellent kissand not at all overdone.”

“Overdone?” said Henry in astrangled voice.

She nodded. “And if you wished tokiss me again, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“An excellent thing to know.”Silence hummed between them. This

time it was a companionable kind of quietthat Margaret quite enjoyed. She took amoment to discreetly study her husbandbeneath her lashes, noting for the first timethe way his nose curved faintly to the leftas if it had been broken a long time agoand the tiny silver scar that traced downfrom the corner of his mouth. He was notas handsome when one studied him upclose, she realized. His beauty fadedaway to reveal the rugged man underneath.A man she was coming to understand alittle more. A proud man, who shoulderedhis problems without complaint. A foolishman, too, for not thinking she would helphim if he had but told her the truth.

“I forgive you,” she saidimpulsively.

“What?” said Henry, looking up.“I said I forgive you. For marrying

me for my dowry,” she explained. “It wasnot a kind thing to do, but I understandwhy you did it and I forgive you.”

The hint of a smile captured hismouth, pulling it up to one side in a halfsmile that did funny things to her heart.

“You are nothing like I thought youwere,” he said.

Margaret sat up a little straighter.“Oh? In what way?”

Henry stretched out on his back andsettled his head on Margaret’s lap. Onebooted foot swung off the side of the bedwhile the other tangled with her right leg,

hooking around her ankle and holding itfirmly in place. It was a decadentposition, to be certain, but neither Henrynor Margaret thought to complain.

“For one,” he began, his eyesflashing with amusement, “you arestubborn as an ass.”

Margaret’s mouth dropped open.“Stubborn as an… Stubborn as an ass?”she cried, glowering down at him.

“Yes, but much more beautiful.”“Well as long as I am prettier than a

donkey,” she sniffed.“Much prettier. I have never seen

hair the same shade as yours before. Itreminds me of a tomato,” he decided. “Abig fat tomato, ripe for the plucking.”

“My hair reminds you of a fat

tomato?” she repeated in amazement.“You, sir, are certainly not a poet.”

“Far from it,” he agreed.“Henry?” said Margaret a few

moments later, breaking the silence thathad settled back over them, snug andcomfortable as a blanket on a coldwinter’s night.

He looked up at her. “Yes?”Absently she twirled a lock of his

hair around her finger, spinning the softcurl round and round as she said,“Perhaps, since we are, in fact, marriedwe might try to get to know each other…That is, more then we do now.”

Henry propped himself up on oneelbow and smiled wryly. “We do notknow each other at all.”

Margaret nodded. “Precisely mypoint.”

“And what pray tell,” he queried,arching one eyebrow, “brought on thissudden change of heart? One hour ago youwere claiming we did not suit andthrowing dinner plates at my head.”

“I may have a bit of a temper,” sheacknowledged stiffly. “But you got no lessthen you deserved, courting me under falsepretenses and marrying me just to get atmy dowry! They have names for men likeyou, you know.”

“And what,” he said, gracing herwith a slow, wolfish smile, “would thosenames be?”

Biting her lip, Margaret did her bestto ignore the little pitter patter of her

heart. Damn the man, but he was quitecharming when he wanted to be. “A rogueand a scoundrel,” she said, trying herhardest to appear stern.

“Aye,” he admitted without battingan eyelash. “I am both of those and more.Still care to get to know each other?”

“If I do, can I ride Finnegan?”“Absolutely not.”“You will let me eventually,” she

predicted.Henry scowled. “You will never sit

on that horse again, Margaret.”We shall see about that , she

thought. Gently easing her legs frombeneath Henry’s head she swung off thebed, stretched, and crossed to thedoorway.

“Where are you going?” he asked,sitting up with a frown.

“To get something to eat from thekitchen. I am starved.”

“Yes, well. I will see you in themorning. What time is breakfast usuallyserved?” he asked.

Only then did Margaret realize thatfor the first time she and Henry would besleeping together under the same roof. Forsome inexplicable reason the very ideacaused her cheeks to burn bright red.“Um,” she said, pausing half in and halfout of the hall. “Half past seven, Ibelieve.”

“Half past seven?” Henry stood upand stretched his long arms high above hishead, pulling the hem of his shirt free from

the waistband of his breeches to reveal ahint of the coiled muscle that lay beneath.“That’s a rather ungodly hour, isn’t it?”

“Then don’t get up!” Margaretsnapped. The instant the words were outshe clapped a hand to her mouth anddarted out the door, stopping only longenough to kick it closed behind her. Shemade it halfway to her room before shehad to stop and lean up against the wall.Laying the palms of her hands flat againstthe cool plaster she closed her eyes anddrew in a deep, lingering breath to sootheher frazzled nerves.

Well that had certainly not gonehow she had predicted. Who would havethought her husband was so… so… sobloody charming? And witty. And kind.

And a very, very excellent kisser.Again she touched her lips, tracing

them with a fingertip as she rememberedhow it had felt to have the length ofHenry’s body pushed snug against herown. To have his mouth on her mouth. Histongue dancing with her tongue. Hishands… Her eyes flew open. Dearheavens, what was she thinking?

Henry was a rogue of the worst sort!He had run off with her dowry.

Something he has not onlyapologized for, but made up ten fold ,said a sly little voice.

He threatened to shoot Poppy!Only because you threw a plate at

his head. Besides, he didn’t mean it.People say all sorts of things when they

are angry… Don’t they, Margaret?He abandoned me!He left to earn you a fortune and

thought you were living in the lap ofluxury in his absence. Is it his fault hisaccountant is a lily livered snake?

He only married me for my money.Margaret waited for the little voice

to contradict her, but this time there wasonly silence. Troubled, she walked slowlyto her room and locked the door behindher.

CHAPTER SIX

As summer gave way to fall and the

nights grew cooler, the days shorter andthe leaves began to change their colors,the Duke and Duchess of Heathridgebegan a slow, fumbling courtship of sorts.

With the mutual goal of restoringHeathridge to its former glory, the twoworked closely side by side and soon fellinto a comfortable routine.

Margaret tended to the stables in the

morning – something she refused to giveup, even when Henry hired not one butthree grooms – while Henry pouredthrough ledgers in his study. Eachafternoon they chose a different room toscrub top to bottom, a task normallydelegated to servants, but as Margaretpointed out “it was their bloody house”and for once Henry saw logic in herargument. In the evenings before dinnerthey always went for a long walk todiscuss the tasks accomplished or simplydrift along in silence, content with eachother’s company.

Slowly but surely Heathridge beganto reclaim some of its former glory. Thewindows began to sparkle. New rugs andpaintings arrived by the cart load. The

fields were tilled. Under Margaret’sinsistence two new paddocks were put inand a new, larger barn was wellunderway, all funded by the wealth Henryhad accumulated from his businessventures abroad. Unfortunately,Heathridge’s coffers were not as deep asthey should have been.

It did not take Henry long todiscover the depths of his accountant’sbetrayal. By all written accounts Petersonhad been robbing the estate blind foryears. Only recently had he grown boldenough to make obvious errors, such astaking all of the money Henry had beensending back to Margaret instead ofsiphoning it off little by little as he hadfrom the late Duke. It was a betrayal of the

highest order; one Henry had not yetdecided how to deal with. He knewPeterson was in London, a fact that wassubstantiated by the number of bills thatwere piling up in Henry’s name.

Did Peterson think him a fool? Ordid he simply no longer care if he wascaught? Perhaps, Henry thought darkly, theaccountant merely thought him to be asignorant and foolish as his father. If so, itwas a mistake that would soon cost theman dearly.

Crumpling the latest tally of figurestotaling the losses Heathridge hadsustained over the past year, Henry tossedthe wad of paper over his shoulder indisgust and crossed the room to gaze outthe window

It was no accident he had chosen tomake this particular room his study. It wasthe only one on the first floor of the estatethat faced east, towards the stables. Fromhere he had a clear view of the paddockand the barn and the horses, as well as thered haired vixen that tended them.

A smile rose unbidden to his mouthas he recalled what had transpired out thisvery window yesterday afternoon.

Three times the new gardener hadthrown a fit over having his tulipsdevoured by the shaggy beast Margaretreferred to fondly as a horse. Henry hadwatched from the safe confines of hisstudy as the gardener went after the largedraft mare with a broom after hediscovered her snacking on the newly

planted shrubbery. Like a mama bearprotecting her cub Margaret had comeflying out of no where, and although Henryhad not heard the heated words exchangedbetween the two, he knew without needingto ask who had come out the victor.

The woman was a puzzle. A puzzlehe was thoroughly enjoying solving. Shearoused him, annoyed him, and fascinatedhim – often within the span of just a fewhours. Any sensible thought fled his headwhen she entered the room. She couldprovoke his temper with one saucycomment… and provoke his loins withoutspeaking a word.

Yet despite their teasing banter,flirtatious glances, and the undeniable heatthat burned between them, every night

Margaret went to her bedroom and Henryto his. Through the thin walls he wouldhear her turn the lock on her door and hewould stay awake for hours, staring up atthe ceiling as the scent of her lavenderperfume lingered in the air, driving him alittle bit closer to insanity every time hefell asleep with empty arms and an achingarousal.

She had given him her laughter andher light, but there was still some part ofher that she was holding back. Some parthe could not touch.

A timid knock sounded at the door,interrupting Henry’s thoughts. “Come in,”he said without turning around.

One of the new maids, a youngwoman with mousy brown hair and a

button nose, opened the door a few scantinches. “Your Grace?” she said.

“Yes, what is it?” he asked after animpatient glance down at his pocketwatch. How had he not noticed the time? Itwas a three quarters past eleven. Heshould have met Margaret in the frontparlor almost an hour ago. Going to hisdesk he shrugged into a dark green jackethe had left on the chair and absentlytightened his cravat. His wife hatedanyone who was late for anything. Shewas not going to be very happy with him.Perhaps he should stop by the kitchen toget her a pastry, or pick a few flowersfrom the front garden, or even –

“Your Grace?”Henry faced the maid, a faint scowl

on his face. “What do you need?”Looking away, she mumbled

something under her breath he couldn’tquite hear.

“What? What did you say? Speakup… er… Angela, is it?” he asked.Margaret had agreed to hire a bevy of newhouse staff one the condition that he learnall of their names. It was an unusualrequest, but one Henry was doing his bestto adhere to.

Angela fiddled with the stiff collarof her uniform as she said, “You asked meto keep an eye on the Duchess, YourGrace, especially if she went outunattended and… well...”

“And what?” he said sharply.Angela’s eyes filled with tears.

“She took out that mean stallion, YourGrace. The one you said none of us was toever touch. Petey tried to stop her, but shewouldn’t listen and there was a deer thatjumped plain out of no where and LadyMargaret fell –”

Henry did not wait for the maid tofinish. Shoving past her, he sprinted forthe stables.

The last thing Margaret remembered

was asking Finnegan quite nicely for acanter. Then there had been a flash ofbrown, a fearful whinny, and she hadwoken up on the ground with a crowd ofpeople hovering over her.

“What happened?” she askedweakly.

“That nasty beast spilled you off, hedid!” said one of the new stable ladsshrilly. Holding his cap in his hands hetwisted it like he was ringing out an oldrag. “It was a deer, m’lady. Spooked ‘emand you went through the air like a sacko’potatoes.”

Margaret rather felt like a sack ofpotatoes. Gingerly pulling herself into asitting position, she probed at the sourceof the pounding in her head. When herfingers came away sticky with blood shepaled, but refused to panic. Her body felthorribly sore, although nothing wasbroken since she could wiggle all of herextremities. If she came away from the fallwith nothing more than a bump on the headthen she would consider herself lucky

indeed. “Petey, be a dear and go fetch apale of cold water from the kitchen. Freshand clean, if you please. And has anyoneseen Finnegan? I don’t want him to run inthe road. Poor thing, it wasn’t his fault. Ibelieve a deer spook—”

“MARGARET? MARGARET!WHERE ARE YOU?”

Oh dear. It was Henry and he didn’tsound at all pleased, which meantsomeone must have told him what hadhappened. Margaret narrowed her eyes atthe servants hovering over her and they allhad the good grace to look the other way.“Cowards,” she muttered under herbreath.

“Angela went to fetch the Master,”said one of the cook maids who had seen

the fall happen from inside the kitchen. “Itwas her fault.”

Hissing out a breath in frustration,Margaret waved her hand. “Get on, the lotof you, unless you want to be yelled at aswell.”

They scurried away like mice,leaving Margaret to face her irate husbandalone. Grimacing, she tried to stand butdizziness overtook her and she decidedthe grass was not such a bad place to sitafter all. Crossing her legs at the ankle andresting her hands behind her, Margaretwaited for Henry to reach her. It was not along wait.

He came charging around the side ofthe barn like a bull, his hands clenchedinto fists and his nostrils flared. She could

tell the instant he spotted her because hisupper lip curled into a snarl of rage and hequickened his step until he came to a haltdirectly in front of her and just stoodthere, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed toangry green slits. Waiting.

“Hello,” she said meekly.Silence.“I waited for you in the parlor for

over an hour, you know. It is quite rude tokeep someone waiting. They get ideas intheir head, ideas they can’t help,” she saiddefensively, shading her eyes against thesun with the side of her hand so she couldsee him clearly.

Silence.“Everything would have been fine if

the deer hadn’t jumped out of the brush. It

caught us both by surprise, you see, andFinnegan didn’t intend any harm.”

Without saying a word Henry spunon his heel and started walking awaytowards the stables. Alarmed, Margaretscrambled to her feet and hobbled afterhim, calling out his name, but he ignoredher. Halfway to the barn he abruptlychanged directions. As he stalked past hergoing the other way Margaret reached outand grabbed the sleeve of his jacket.

“Wait,” she cried. “Where are yougoing?”

“To get a gun,” he bit out,wrenching free of her grasp.

“To – to shoot me for ridingFinnegan?” she asked incredulously.

“No, to shoot the damn horse.”

“Henry,” she gasped. “I told you itwasn’t his fault. It was mine, for ridinghim in the first place. I never should have–”

“No, you should not have!” heshouted, whirling around to face her. “Butyou did, because you are you and youcannot help yourself. Well, I will not haveit, do you hear me?”

“You will not have what?”Margaret asked, utterly bewildered.

“I will not have you risking yourbloody life!” In two strides he hadcrossed the distance that separated themand taken her by the arms. He gave hertwo quick shakes, and she felt her headspin, but it was nothing compared to theflips her heart was doing. “When that

maid came to tell me you had fallen off Ithought –”

“What maid?” Margaret interrupted.“What?”“What maid, Henry? Her name, if

you would.”His jaw clenched. “For the love of

– Angela, her name was Angela!”“Very good.” Margaret nodded.

“You may continue.”“So help me God I am going to kill

you,” he vowed darkly.“No,” said Margaret, suppressing a

smile. “You’re not. Now do go on withwhy you think shooting your horse is agood idea. First, however, may we sitdown? I am feeling quite dizzy.”

Henry did not hear her. Reaching

out, he gently touched the side of hertemple and stared at his fingers when theycame away stained with blood. “You’rebleeding,” he said dumbly.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But it is nothingto worry about.”

“You’re bleeding,” he repeated.Margaret reached out and clasped

his hand. “Yes, dear, you have said thatalready. It’s just a little scratch, I think Imay have hit the side of the stirrup ironwhen I fell and it really is nothing toworry –”

“HASTINGS!” Henry roared, soloud that Margaret winced. “HASTINGS,GET OUT HERE THIS INSTANT! CALLTHE DOCTOR!”

Margaret rolled her eyes. “Henry, I

have to say you are over reacting just atad. I have fallen off a horse before I donot doubt I will do it again. If you wouldsimply calm down we –”

“And you,” he said, cutting her off.“You – you should be laying down! In abed!” Ignoring her protests, he scoopedher up in his arms and marched her inside,up the stairs, and into the master bedroom.

“You’ve gone mad,” she gasped ashe tucked her under the covers,surrounded her head with pillows, andordered her not to move a single muscleuntil the doctor arrived. Ignoring him,Margaret threw the blankets off and sat up,her blue eyes flashing dangerously.“Henry, this is ridiculous! I know you areupset that I rode Finnegan without your

permission and I truly am sorry, but goingon like this is not going to help anyone.”

Head bent and arms held rigidlybehind his back, Henry turned away fromthe window where he had been watchingfor the doctor’s carriage and fixedMargaret with a glare so furious it had herhastily laying flat on her back as orderedand pulling the covers up to her chin.

“Henry,” she tried again after a fewminutes of strained silence. “I really amfine. A nick on my head and a few bumpsand bruises here and there. If you wouldjust let me take a hot bath I am certain Iwill feel better in no –”

“YOU COULD HAVE BEENKILLED!” he shouted.

Stunned, Margaret dropped the

covers. “Oh Henry, no,” she said asunderstanding finally dawned. Henrywasn’t angry because she had riddenFinnegan. He was angry because he wasafraid of losing her. A sense of cozywarmth started in Margaret’s chest andslipped all the way down to her toes. Shesmiled, which only served to provokeHenry’s anger to a fever pitch.

“You little idiot,” he snarled. “Youcould have broken every bone in yourbody.”

“Would that have upset you?” sheasked tentatively.

Henry gaped at her. “Would thathave – of COURSE that would have upsetme! You’re my damn wife and I – you’remy wife, Margaret, and I forbid you to

risk your life anymore. Do you hear me? Iforbid it!” His eyes narrowedsuspiciously. “Why are you smiling? It’syour head injury. You must be concussed.Bloody hell, where is that worthlessdoctor? HASTINGS! HASTINGS, GETUP HERE RIGHT NOW!”

When the doctor finally arrived he

prescribed Margaret laudanum and twoweeks bed rest. She refused the laudanumand agreed to three days of bed rest,which the doctor consented to on thecondition he never be called again to dealwith “that woman”.

Henry, who had watched the twoargue from the corner of the bedroom,made no move to intervene on behalf the

doctor. He simply put laudanum inMargaret’s tea after the doctor left andheld her hand while she drifted off tosleep.

“Henry?” she said, her eyes alreadyclosed and her breathing quiet and steady.

“Yes darling?”“You won’t… really shoot…

Finn?”Leaning close, he placed a gentle

kiss on her forehead, just below thebandage the doctor had applied. “No, Iwon’t,” he said.

A troubled line appeared betweenher eyebrows. “You promise?” shewhispered.

“Yes,” he said, only slightlyexasperated that his wife was fighting off

the effects of the laudanum just so shecould make sure the horse who had thrownher was safe. “I was only speaking inanger. But you are never to scare me likethat again, do you hear me Margaret?”

Her lips curved. “Not because ofmy dowry,” she said.

The words made little sense toHenry, which meant the laudanum wasfinally taking effect. “Not because of yourdowry,” he agreed.

“Henry?”“Go to sleep Margaret,” he said

firmly. “I will still be here in themorning.”

“You will?”“I will stay here all night,” he said.

It seemed to be the reassurance she

needed, for with a little sigh she finallyfell asleep and Henry, as promised,remained by her side until morning.

CHAPTER SEVEN

By the third day of bed rest

Margaret was ready to murder someone.She would prefer it to be her husband, butreally anyone would do the trick.Hastings, who watched her like a hawkand sounded the alarm if she even lookedat the door. Angela, the poor dear, whoburst into tears whenever she came intothe room to change the linens. Even Peteythe stable boy had managed to raise her

ire without stepping foot in the bedroom.She had been forced to watch out thewindow, hands clenched into fists offrustration, as he led her beloved Poppystraight out to the field without allowingher eat even a nibble from the lawn.

For a woman who was used todoing everything for herself, being forcedto remain in one place and be waited onhand and foot was absolute torture.Unfortunately, no one else seemed to see itthat way. They actually had the nerve tosay she was the difficult one! Margaret’slip curled in disgust as she set aside thebook she had been trying in vain to readfor the past two days. If she didn’t get outof this room soon she would not beresponsible for her actions.

Hearing the door knob turn, shelooked up from her chair expectantly, onlyto scowl when she saw who it was andsnatch her book back up.

“How are you feeling today?”Henry asked pleasantly.

He was, Margaret saw as shepeeked over the top of the book, dressedin his finest riding clothes. Fawn coloredbreeches hugged his legs in all the rightplaces and a scarlet jacket tailor fit to hismuscular frame was buttoned to the throat.Even his tall leather boots had beenpolished to a sheen, which immediatelyaroused Margaret’s suspicion. Closing thebook with a snap, she said dourly, “Andjust where are you going today? Foxhunting?”

“Quite right,” he said, grinningbroadly.

Margaret’s mouth dropped open.“You wouldn’t. Oh, take me with you. Ifeel perfectly fine,” she pleaded. “Betterthan fine. If I remain locked in this room asecond longer I shall go positively mad!”

Henry walked past her to perch onthe edge of the bed. Arms crossed, hebegan to tap his heel against the floor.“Per the doctor’s orders—”

“Stuff the doctor’s orders!”He raised one eyebrow. “—your

bed rest officially ended this morning.”“I always thought he was a dear,

dear man.”Henry’s grin widened, but he was

wise enough not to laugh. “I need to go to

London for a fortnight. I was going to askif you would like to accompany me.”

Had Henry asked her to go toLondon last week she would have heartilydeclined, but after three days of doingnothing save staring at the ceiling a visit tothe city sounded absolutely divine. “I’llgo,” she decided at once. “When do weleave?”

“As soon as you are ready.” Margaret glanced down at her plain

blue dress and frowned. “I shall need tochange and to pack.”

Henry stood. Crossing the room, hegently kissed her cheek, something he hadbeen doing on a regular basis since shehad woken up the morning after heraccident. “You look beautiful just as you

are,” he murmured. “And I had Angelaready your things last night.”

“L-last night?” said Margaret,hoping he wouldn’t notice the quiet hitchin her voice. It quite undid her when hepaid her compliments out of the blue ortouched her lightly, as he was doing now,running his fingers through her hairwithout even seeming to realize it.Something had shifted between them in thepast few days, something Margaret couldnot define, but definitely liked.

Henry was… warmer, she decided.Softer. Kinder. He had treated her like aqueen during her bed rest, flowering herwith so many gifts (many of the chocolatevariety) that she had started turning themaway, protesting that she would get too

fat, to which he had replied she wasperfect no matter what.

She should have been over the moonwith happiness. After all, it was not everyday one’s husband was so loving andattentive. And yet… And yet like a puzzlenot quite complete, there was a piecemissing. It was not a piece she could nameor describe. It was simply something shefelt.

“Margaret, are you ready then?”Henry asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Pasting a smile on her face, shenodded and pushed herself to her feet.“Yes. Quite ready.”

“Are you all right?” he asked,studying her closely. “You seem a bit…off. If you are not feeling well I can

postpone the trip. Go next week when youare feeling better. Let me just ringHastings and tell him to send the carriageaway.”

“No, no,” she protested, placing ahand on his chest. “I am fine. I promise.”

Henry frowned. “If you’re sure…”“Quite sure,” she said brightly.Still not looking entirely convinced,

Henry wordlessly extended his arm. Shetook it and together they went to thewaiting carriage outside.

For the first week in London it

rained unmercifully. Henry could tell byMargaret’s glum expression that beingstuck inside their townhouse was drivingher crazy, but she did her best not to

complain, and he did his best to keep herdistracted with games of chess andreading in front of the fireplace well intothe night.

He had not told her the real reasonhe had decided to come to London: totrack down Peterson. About a month agothe accountant had disappeared into thinair. Henry had hired the best detectivesmoney could buy and when they had comeup with no leads he had decided to attendto the matter himself.

Three dead ends later he was almostready to admit it had been plain arrogancethat had made him think he would be ableto succeed where trained detectives hadfailed. Like a weasel gone to groundPeterson was truly gone; whether he even

remained in London was yet to bedetermined, but something in Henry’s guttold him he was still out there…somewhere.

Pulling his watch out of his vestpocket he glanced down at the time. Aquarter past ten. He sighed and stretchedout the stiff muscles in his neck andshoulders. Another day gone with noanswers. Another night to spend alone.

He had foolishly hoped that achange in scenery would be the spark heand Margaret needed to ignite the flamesof desire that had been licking at theirheels. Yet every evening she wished himgood night as she always had and made apoint of going to her own private bedroomand locking the door behind her, shutting

him out until morning came and they beganthe entire bloody dance over again.

It infuriated him to no end to hearthat tumbler click into place night afternight. Did she honestly think he wouldforce himself upon her? He hadconsidered breaking down the door just toprove that he could, but had ultimatelydecided that would serve no purpose saveto incite her anger, something which hedefinitely did not want to do. His wifewas terrifying when she was angry, butdamn it all to hell he was tired of onwalking on egg shells in his own bloodyhouse.

His thoughts troubled and his mooddark, Henry shoved away from his deskand stalked up the stairs. Before he quite

knew what he was doing he had stoppedin front of her door and was poundingagainst it with a raised fist, loud enough towake the dead. He heard the mattresssqueak and then the patter of bare feet.The lock clicked and turned. The dooropened.

“Henry?” said Margaret, her faceregistering her shock. “Is everything allright? What are you doing?”

He took in the rumpled waves offiery hair that spilled across her shouldersand the soft clinginess of her ivorynightgown. With a low growl he pushedhis way past her and shut the door behindhim, plunging the room into darkness.

“What in the world?” Margaretexclaimed. “Henry what is going on? Why

are you – oomph!” He silenced her with a kiss. Even

without light to guide him he knew whereshe was purely by touch. He pulled herhard against him, wrapping one armaround her waist while the other held thedelicate curve of her jaw as if it weremade of glass. Dimly he felt her tiny fistsstriking at his chest and her bare feetkicking at his shins. With a savage oath hedrew back, his breathing heavy, his bodyaroused beyond measure.

“Have you gone insane?” Margarethissed.

His reply was a bitter laugh. “I wentinsane ages ago. Every second, everyhour, every night spent without beinginside of you is one wasted.” He heard her

little gasp of surprise at his lewdness buthe plunged recklessly forward, no longercaring about the consequences for theycould be no worse than the hell he wasalready enduring. “I want to be with youas a man is with a woman, Margaret. Iwant to feel your naked skin slick againstmine. I want to touch you in all the placesyou secretly desire to be touched. I wantyou writhing beneath me, gasping my nameas you come.”

“Well,” Margaret said after a longpause, her voice shaky but determined.“You only had to say so.”

Henry felt as though he just had beenkicked in the solar plexus. Blindly hereached for her and together they tumbledonto the bed. Their lips met, their tongues

entwined. He drank her in as his handsexplored her body, slipping easily beneaththe hem of her nightgown to explore herflushed skin.

Margaret moaned, her headthrashing side to side as his thumb flickedacross her nipple. When he pinched thesensitive nub she cried out and archedagainst him, grinding her hips against hiships, her slender thighs against his thighs.

“Lift your arms,” he panted andwhen she did he ripped her nightgown offwith a savage growl. It floated to the floorand was soon covered by his shirt andtrousers. Both naked they rolled across thebed, he on top and then she, neitherwilling to give up control.

His fingers tangled in her hair and

pulled back, exposing the slim column ofher throat. He suckled eagerly, workinghis way down until his mouth settled withravenous hunger over her breast and histongue swathed her nipple in lingeringcircles that had her purring with pleasure.

Agile as a cat she rolled to the sideand then crawled on top of him, hitchingher long legs on either side of his hips,letting her hair rain down across his chestas she took her turn. He groaned as hernails raked down his chest, and exhaledwith pleasure as she soothed the scratcheswith her tongue.

Henry’s body was on fire and everythought was of her. Her touch burned himfrom the inside out, making him yearn forsomething he could not name, something

he had never felt before. Grasping hershoulders he flipped her beneath him onceagain. His fingers dipped, danced, andexplored the heart of her heat. She writhedin ecstasy as he coaxed her higher, thenhigher still, until on a quiet sigh she cameinto his hand.

His arms braced on either side ofher head as he entered her gently,distracting her from the inevitable painwith soft murmurs and gentle, teasingkisses. She quivered beneath him, herbody taut as a bow, her eyes closed tight.

“Margaret, look at me,” hedemanded, his voice rough with need andthe effort it was taking to hold himselfback.

Her eyes opened. She gazed up at

him, her blue eyes swirling with unsaidemotion and he found himself drowning intheir depths, succumbing to her as a sailorwould a siren. She whispered his nameand he was lost.

Henry slid in to the hilt and shegasped but did not cry out. Her nails clungto his back, digging furrows that he did notfeel; could not feel above the wavescrashing against his body, pounding intohim with the force of a tempest.

One thrust. Two, three. Togetherthey hovered on the brink of the cliff andwith each other’s names on their lips theyhurtled blindly over the edge.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next morning Josephine and

Grace came to call. Margaret met them atthe front door and immediately usheredthem into the sitting parlor where theyspread out amidst the tidy furniture and allbegan speaking at once.

“When did you get to London –”“Where is Henry and why do you –”“Are you going to Lady

Devonshire’s ball –”

They burst out laughing. Josephinerecovered first. Unlacing her hat andsetting it down beside her, she leanedforward and said, “You go first, Margaret.And do start with the reason why you arepractically glowing from head to toe.”

“I am not glowing,” Margaret said.Grace tilted her head and studied

her friend through narrowed eyes. “Thereis definitely some sort of glow,” shedecided after a pause. “Look Josie! She’sblushing. You’re blushing.”

“Only because it is quite warm inhere,” Margaret said defensively. Jumpingout of her seat she went to a mahoganychest in the corner of the room andselected a fan from one of the drawers.Expanding it, she began to wave her face

vigorously, sending loose curls flutteringback to form a red halo around her head.

“This would not have anything to dowith a certain husband of yours, wouldit?” asked Josephine, arching oneeyebrow.

Margaret scowled. Had she knownher friends had planned on putting herthrough an inquisition she never wouldhave invited them over for morning tea.Sitting next to Grace – the lesser of twoevils, as far as she was concerned – shesnapped her fan shut and fixed Josephinewith a hard stare. “If you must know,gossiping old biddy that you are, myimagined ‘glow’, as you put so eloquentlyput it, may have something to do with acertain husband of mine. But that is all I

am going to tell you about that,” she saidprimly.

“Oh pooh.” Josephine waved herhand in the air. “You are no fun at all.What about you Grace? Are youglowing?”

“Me?” The youngest womanexclaimed in surprise. “I’m not evenmarried yet!”

“That certainly didn’t stop me,” saidJosephine.

“ T he n or now,” Margaret saidpointedly.

Josephine lifted her shoulders in acareless shrug. “Yes, well, not all of usare in love with our husbands.”

“How do you know I am in lovewith Henry?” asked Margaret curiously.

Was it that obvious? Color stole into hercheeks as she recalled the events of lastnight… And this morning… And againafter breakfast. When she had learnedGrace and Josephine were not only inLondon, but were coming to call, it hadtaken a whirlwind of maids to make herpresentable. Even now her skin feltflushed and damp beneath herundergarments, and no amount of powderhad been able to fully disguise the faintbruises around her throat courtesy ofHenry’s roaming lips. A high neckedgown had fixed the problem, butJosephine’s knowing gaze revealed sheknew exactly why Margaret had chosenthat particular gown to wear for theirvisit.

“Darling, it is written all over yourface. I am happy for you, truly I am, butyou must know that loving one’s husbandis the exception in marriages like ours, notthe rule.”

Grace sat up a little straighter andfrowned. “I love Stephen,” she said. “Andwe are going to be married.”

“Don’t remind me,” Josephinemuttered.

Sensing an impending battle,Margaret hurriedly rang the bell to signalfor tea. It came out on a silver platter andwas poured into matching blue and whiteporcelain cups. The women sippeddelicately, giving their thoughts time tosettle, and when they began talking againthe topic of Grace’s impending marriage

was wisely put by the wayside. “So where is your delightful

husband?” Josephine asked as she stirredanother lump of sugar into her tea.

“He left this morning to attend tosome business. An accountant of his hasbeen stealing money for quite some time,and –”

“Oh is that why he ran off with yourdowry?” Grace interrupted, her darkeyebrows rising.

“Yes, exactly so.”“A good excuse as any, I suppose,”

said Josephine.“Has anyone heard from Catherine

lately?” Margaret asked, smoothlychanging the subject.

“I have!” said Grace. “I received a

letter from her just yesterday. She andMarcus have decided to stay in the countrywith the children for the Season.”

Josephine set her cup down with asharp clink. “Stay in the country?” sherepeated, visibly horrified. “For the entireSeason? They’re not coming to London atall?”

“Not at all,” Grace confirmed.“How lovely for them,” said

Margaret. She and Henry had alreadydiscussed when they would be leaving thecity. Their social standing obligated themto attend at least one ball, but after thatthey were returning to Heathridge with alldue haste. London had never held the sameallure for Margaret as it had for herfriends and Henry had no preference one

way or the other. He would go, he hadtold her this morning as they lay curled ineach other’s arms, where ever she went. Itwas ironic, really. At the beginning of thesummer she would have given anything toleave Heathridge and now she wantednothing more than to go back. Raising hercup to her lips she attempted to hide hersmile. Unfortunately, Josephine was noteasily fooled.

Fixing her with a piercing stare, theblond haired beauty said, “You’re going toremain in London, aren’t you Margaret?The Season is less than two months away!Not worth going back to the country onlyto turn round again, if you ask me.”

“I am sorry,” she saidapologetically. “But Henry and I have

decided to return to Heathridge at the endof the week.”

Uttering a long, dramatic sighJosephine flopped back on the loveseatand threw her arms wide. “You are alldeserting me,” she complained.

“I will be here for the Season,” saidGrace, looking only slightly put out thatshe had been forgotten. “Although Iimagine most of my time will be spentwith Stephen. He does so love takingcarriage rides through the park and lastweek we went on a picnic – with Mother,of course – in the sweetest little town notfar outside the city. And the week beforethat –”

“Please,” Josephine interjecteddryly, “spare me the details of your

perfect courtship. If I have told you once,Grace, I have told you a thousand times:Lord Melbourne is not a suitable matchfor you. He is opinionated, arrogant, hardheaded, and just… just… Well, if youmust know, he is simply too old for you!”

“Oh dear,” Margaret murmured.Grace’s blue eyes widened. “What

did you say?” she breathed.“I said your intended is opinionated,

arrogant, hard – ”“Well at least he loves me!” Grace

cried. The second the words were out ofher mouth her cheeks went pale and shewas instantly contrite. “Josie, I am sosorry. I did not mean to imply that – ”

“That my husband does not loveme?” Josephine finished. Smiling tightly,

she got to her feet as well and began toretie her hat. “Not to worry, dear. I don’tlove him either. Margaret, I am afraid I amgoing to have to take my leave now. Isuddenly find I am not feeling well.”

Looking back and forth betweenGrace, who looked on the verge of tears,and Josephine, who looked murderous,Margaret decided that tea was very muchat an end. “Not to worry,” she said withforced brightness. “As I said, I will be inLondon until the end of the week. Thatgives us five more days to catch up.”

Josephine nodded, feigned a smile,and marched out without looking back.Distraught, Grace turned to Margaret.

“Do you think she hates me?” sheasked miserably.

“Of course not,” Margaret soothed.“She is merely upset. You know how shegets. By tomorrow she will have forgottenthis even happened.”

“Really?” Grace sniffed.“Really,” said Margaret. “Now I

hate to rush you along, but I am expectingHenry to return any moment and…” shetrailed off, not quite sure how to finishthat particular sentence.

“And you want to be alone,” saidGrace. “I quite understand. I wish I couldbe alone with Stephen, but Mother isalways there.”

“Yes, well, soon enough I suppose.”“Soon enough,” Grace agreed

before she said, after a hesitant pause, “Ido love him, you know, even if he isn’t

perfect.”A smile tugged at the corners of

Margaret’s mouth as she rose to see herfriend out. “None of them are, dear.”

“But you are happy with Henrynow?”

“Over the moon,” she confirmed.The two women embraced, kissed

each other’s cheeks, and parted ways afterpromising to meet tomorrow afternoon forlunch.

Later that day…

Margaret rolled over onto her

stomach. Trailing her fingertips acrossHenry’s chest, she began to circle onenipple, watching in fascination as the rosy

skin puckered and hardened. She couldtell by the unnatural flatness of hisstomach that he was holding his breath,and with a low chuckle she flung herselfbackwards to stare up at the ceiling. Herunbound hair cascaded down her bareshoulders in waves and she felt a gentletug as Henry wound a lock around hishand. He had come home two hours agoand they had not been out of bed since.

“Henry?” she said hesitantly.“Hmmm?”“Why did you marry me?” Margaret

could feel every muscle in her body tenseas she waited for his reply. How long, shewondered, had she been desperatelyyearning to ask that question? For monthsit had hovered on the tip of her tongue,

there but not there, the last wall betweenthem.

Henry did not hesitate before hesaid, “For your money, of course.”Rolling over onto his side he gazed downat her, his eyes lingering on the sheet thatbarely covered the tips of her breastsbefore sliding back up to her face. “Whydid you marry me?”

“Because my mother wanted me tomarry a Duke,” she admitted candidly.

The hint of a smile tugged atHenry’s mouth. “And do you always dowhat your mother tells you?” hewhispered huskily as he leaned forward tokiss her exposed shoulder.

“No, not always but in this case –Henry, stop that! This is a serious

discussion.”With a sigh he lifted his head and

slipped his hand out from under the sheet.“What is a serious discussion? What thedevil are you going on about?” he asked.

“The reason why we married eachother,” Margaret said.

“I thought I explained that quitethoroughly, love. I married you for yourdowry.”

“Yes I know that,” she replied. “Butwhy me?”

Henry frowned. “Is this a trickquestion?”

She shook her head.“Very well. I married you because

you seemed sweet and gentle and kind.The perfect wife to manage a household

and take care of my children” he said,watching her closely.

“But I am none of those things!”Margaret cried, suddenly feelingperilously close to tears.

“Exactly. I married you for thewoman I thought you were, but I love youfor the woman you are.”

“You… you love me?” she sniffed.“Well of course I bloody love you, I

– Margaret, are you crying?”She covered her face with her hands

and turned away from him. “No,” she said,her voice muffled. Henry loved her.Through her tears she smiled, and shesmiled all the more brightly when she felthis arm snake around her ribs to pull hersnugly against him.

“You silly goose,” he said fondly,nuzzling her hair. “I have loved you sincethe day you threw a plate at my head.”

A watery laugh escaped her lips.“You liar,” she accused, poking him withher elbow for good measure.

“Well, perhaps I did not know Iloved you at that precise moment... But Idid. We married each other for all thewrong reasons, Maggie mine. Yet how canthat matter when we love each other forall the right ones? Come here,” he saidgruffly and she squealed as he rolled herover the top of his body before pinning herbeneath him. “There,” he said, grinningwolfishly down at her. “I have you exactlywhere I want you. There shall be noescaping me now, Lady Winter.”

Looking up at her husband, seeingthe love in his eyes that matched the loveshe felt in her heart, Margaret could thinkof only one thing to say. “Why would Iwant to?”

EPILOGUE

For her second wedding, the bride

wore blue. The dress floated down herbody in a cascade of soft silk and chiffonas she walked across rose petals towardsher husband. He took her hands when shereached him and raised them to his lips,giving one kiss for each finger while thebride blushed and tried not to roll her eyesat the silliness of it all.

“They look perfect together, don’tthey?” Catherine said fondly. Standingonly a few yards away from whereMargaret and Henry were repeating theirvows for the second time, she leanedagainst her husband and he automaticallycurved one arm around her waist to drawher snug against his side.

“Perfect,” Marcus agreed before heasked, “And whose idea was it to renewtheir vows?”

“It was Henry’s idea to haveanother ceremony where he wasn’t foxedto the gills, although Margaret was the onewho wanted to have it outside. Somethingabout talking to a sheep,” said Josephinefrom behind him. Edging closer, the blondcast one pointed glare behind her to where

her own husband was standing. Theunspoken message was clear: stay there.Inclining his chin and offering a small,tight smile, Traverson melted back into thesmall crowd of wedding guests andJosephine breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Despite having been married fornearly two years, she rarely appeared atsocial functions with Traverson. Today ithad been unavoidable as both of them hadbeen invited to Heathridge and the lastthing in the world Josephine wanted to dowas disappoint Margaret. Still, it was justso terribly awkward to be in the sameroom (or, as the case was today, in thesame field) as her husband. For once shedidn’t know exactly what to do or what tosay. She could feel Traverson’s eyes on

her, but every time she glancedsurreptitiously over her shoulder he waslooking somewhere else. The sky. Thetreeline. The roof of the estate just barelyvisible on the other side of the hill. Theman had the attention span of a flea. Hishead was always in the clouds, thinking ofnew ideas and new inventions. It was butone of the many reasons their marriagehad been doomed from the start.

“Oh look, they are about to kiss,”Catherine sighed, drawing Josephine’sattention back to the top of the hill.

She watched, a smile blossomingacross her face, as Margaret stood on hertip toes, threw her arms around Henry’sneck, and kissed her husband with wildabandon. The guests clapped politely,

while Josephine and Catherine hootedtheir delight.

“Where is Grace?” Catherine hissedwhen the well wishing quieted to apleasant hum of voices and the weddingparty prepared to move down to the estatewhere large tents had been set up fordining and dancing.

Only now realizing their friend wasconspicuously absent, Josephine did aquick search of the crowd. Many of thefaces were familiar – only close friendsand family had been invited to the intimateaffair – but Grace’s was not among them.

“She was here earlier,” Catherinesaid, puzzled. “I saw her with LordMelbourne.”

At the mere mention of Grace’s

fiancée Josephine’s mouth pinchedtogether and her eyes narrowed. “Nodoubt he made her miss the ceremony,”she predicted darkly.

Catherine clucked her tongue andhid a smile behind her hand. It was nosecret that Josephine despised Grace’sintended. She had warmed up to the manherself and secretly thought he was aperfect match for Grace, although shewould never dare say so aloud inJosephine’s presence.

Josephine had quite made up hermind that the two did not suit and wasdetermined to break them apart beforetheir wedding. So far she had had littlesuccess, partly because Grace was sohead over heels in love with her fiancé

that she was oblivious to everything elseand partly because Lord Melbourne wassurprisingly protective of his young bride-to-be. Twice he had thwarted Josephine’sill-disguised attempts to draw them apart.Catherine could only hope there would notbe a third.

“Perhaps she was merely hungryand went down for the estate for a bite toeat,” she suggested.

“Perhaps,” said Josephinegrudgingly.

“Shall we, ladies?” Marcusinterrupted. Extending one arm to his wifeand the other to Josephine, he escortedthem down the hill to the first tent whereten round tables of varying size had beenset up. Candles flickering merrily atop the

white linen table cloths and vases filledwith wildflowers gave everything a soft,rosy glow. Marcus plucked a daisy fromone of the bouquets and slipped it behindhis wife’s ear. Catherine laid her palmupon his chest and smiled up at him, lostin his gray eyes. From beside them came aquiet murmur as Josephine cleared herthroat before she mumbled somethingabout finding Grace and scurried off.

Her smile fading, Catherinewatched her friend walk briskly away.“Do you think she will ever be happy?”she asked her husband sadly.

“She seems happy enough,” saidMarcus, a bit surprised by the question.

“No,” said Catherine, shaking herhead. “She cannot be happy until she finds

true love.”“Isn’t she married?” he asked.“Yes, to Lord Gates. It was an

arranged marriage, though. I do notbelieve either of them wanted it.”

Marcus’ eyebrows drew together.“Lord Gates… The Earl of Farley? I havebeen on a few hunts with him. He ishopeless on a horse, but seems like apleasant enough chap. I had no idea theywere married. If that is the case then whyis Josephine always with other –”

Catherine pressed her finger to hislips, effectively cutting him off. “Notanother word,” she ordered sternly. Eventhough it was well known by everyone inthe Ton that Josephine had slept outsideher marriage bed on more then one

occasion, Catherine would not allow herhusband to spread such gossip. She didnot approve of her friend’s wellpublicized affairs, although she certainlyunderstood the reason behind them, havingonce been accused of such lasciviousbehavior herself. Years of lonelinesswould drive a person to almost anything,she imagined. It was simply bad luck thatthe person happened to be Josephine.

“I believe they are doing the toast,”said Marcus, eager to change the subject.

“Oh dear, have you seen Grace?Josephine and I were looking for herearlier. I know she wouldn’t want to missthis,” said Catherine worriedly.

“Lord Melbourne took her to thestables half an hour ago to show her a

horse Margaret said she could ridewithout falling off. Pretty or Poppy orsomething of that nature.” Marcus’ lipscurved wickedly as he winked at his wife.“I simply cannot imagine what they mightbe doing.”

“Oh!” Catherine exclaimed, hercheeks turning pink. “Is that all you thinkabout?”

“Most of the time,” he admitted.“Go on, go find her. I will stall the toastuntil you get back.”

“Did you see what directionJosephine went?” she asked over hershoulder.

“That way,” he said, gesturingvaguely towards the left.

Following her husband’s direction,

Catherine found Josephine at the dessertstable, sampling an array of bright redstrawberries. “Marcus said he saw Gracego to the stables. Will you come with meto get her?”

“Of course,” said Josephine.Popping an entire strawberry in her mouthshe followed Catherine out of the tent anddown the stone drive that led to the barn.Slipping inside the double doors, the twowomen came up short at the sight thatgreeted them.

There, in the middle of the aisle,with her skirts hiked up to her knees andher white drawers on full display, satGrace atop the largest horse Catherine hadever seen.

“Oh my goodness!” she gasped.

“Grace, what in the world are youdoing?” Josephine cried. Marchingforward she went to snatch the reins out ofLord Melbourne’s hand, but he sweptthem behind his back before she couldgrab them, his expression formidable.

“I am quite all right,” Gracechirped, unfazed by her friend’s strongreactions. “Stephen was simply teachingme how to ride on Poppy. Isn’t shemarvelous? And so sweet tempered. Why,I hardly feel at all like I am going to fall.”

“Get down this minute,” Josephinedemanded.

“You look lovely dear, but the toastis about to begin and you have missed theceremony,” said Catherine gently.

“Oh rats,” Grace exclaimed. “It

seems like I just got on. Was the weddingbeautiful?”

“Quite beautiful,” said Catherine.“Did you cry?”“No, I did not cry. Best to hurry,

dear. Everyone will be waiting for us.”Without a thought to her own safety,

Grace swung her right leg over Poppy’sample backside and launched herselftowards the ground. Catherine shrieked.Josephine darted forward with her armsspread wide, intending to catch her friend,but she was knocked aside as Stephen –Lord Melbourne – leapt forward andcaught his fiancée before she could fall.

He held her briefly against his chest,whispered something in her ear that madeher giggle, and set her down on her feet

before striding out of the barn withoutlooking back.

“Oh,” said Grace, her eyessparkling, “that was quite wonderful.”

“Wonderful? You could have beenkilled! Lord Melbourne should knowbetter then to let you indulge in suchdangerous activities,” Josephine scowled.

“Posh,” said Grace. “He wouldnever let me fall. Now where is this toast?I do not want to miss it. Do you thinkMargaret will be cross with me formissing her wedding?”

“You attended the first one. Yourobligation has been met,” said Catherine.

Still rather irritated by the entireaffair, Josephine sent her friends on theirway, claiming she would be right behind

them after she put Poppy away. The olddraft went obligingly into her stall and shemade certain to lock the door behind herbefore hurrying out of the barn, notwanting to miss a word of the toast.

Halfway to the array of tentsJosephine came to an abrupt halt as shesaw she was not the only one who hadstrayed from the festivities. “What do youwant?” she asked rudely.

“I was looking for you,” said herhusband.

Not for the first time Josephinenoted that Traverson had allowed his hairto grow out too long yet again. The unrulylocks went a good two inches past hisshoulders, a mix of blond and brown thatnever seemed to settle on one color. It

gave him an unruly appearance, one thatclashed with her neat chignon and demureyellow gown.

“Well you found me,” she said.“What were you doing out here?” he

asked softly.Josephine drew in a sharp breath.

“What do you think?” she asked. It was asuggestive response and one she shouldn’thave made, but she could not help herselfwhere Traverson was concerned. If – justonce – he stood up for himself and calledher out on all of her despicable behaviorthey might actually have a chance ofclearing the air and setting their problemsaside, but no. He was a man who liked topretend nothing was amiss. A man whoavoided confrontation at all cost. He was

a dreamer, she thought bitterly. A dreamerwho never remembered to include her inhis dreams.

Something flickered in the depths ofhis cool gray eyes. Something unfamiliar.Something dark. But it was gone before ithad time to take hold, leaving Traversonwith his regular expression of faintpuzzlement. “Would you like to me toescort you back to the tents?” he askedpolitely.

“By all means,” Josephine bit out.Holding out her arm she barely waited forhis fingers to close around it before shemarched back to the reception, towing himbehind her like a rag doll. They reachedthe first tent just as Henry was standingwith his glass held aloft and stopped at the

back so as not to attract attention.“I would like to thank all of you,

family and friends, for attending thisspecial day,” Henry began, his clear,baritone voice ringing out across thecrowd. “As all of you know this is not thefirst time I walked down the aisle, but it isthe first time I was able to stand upright.”

A few people snickered, aseveryone in attendance remembered thedebacle of the first wedding. Seated to theright of her husband Margaret merelysmiled, her eyes shining with pride.

When Henry had first approachedher with the idea of having anotherwedding, she had thought the notion utterlyridiculous. A good memory could notreplace a bad one, she had told him, but

now, surrounded by family and friends,she knew when she thought of her weddingit would be of this. And when she thoughtof her vows it would be of saying them toa man she truly loved, and one who lovedher just as much. And when she thought ofher wedding night… Margaret’s lipscurved. Well, it would certainly be morememorable than the first.

“…never thought I would find truehappiness,” Henry continued. “When I hadit right in front of me the entire time.Maggie, you light up my life. Inside andout you make me a better man.” His voicedropped to a husky whisper and everyonestrained forward out of their seats, theirfaces rapt with anticipation, but onlyMargaret heard what he said next. “I will

love you forever and a day, my darling.”“Forever and a day,” she murmured.And so it was.

If you enjoyed Margaret andHenry’s love story, make sure

to check out Josephine andTraverson’s in:

A LASIVIOUS LADY

The third novella in the

Wedded Women Quartet,coming to Amazon in August!