A knock sounded and she quickly slid the slim volume beneath several sheets of vellum. After closing the drawer, she called out, "Come in."

Nelson entered, carrying a square silver foil box decorated with an ivory ribbon. "This just arrived for you, my lady." He held out the attractive box, which was just a bit larger than her hand.

Her heart skipped a beat. A present from Daniel? "Thank you, Nelson."

After the butler withdrew, she hurried to her desk, set down the box, then untied the ribbon. She lifted the top, picked up the small note card resting on top of the silver tissue paper, and squinted at the brief message that must have been hastily written, as the ink was badly smudged.

I hope you enjoy these, Daniel.

Smiling in anticipation, she unfolded the tissue paper to reveal a half-dozen pieces of marzipan nestled inside, perfectly formed and decorated in the shapes of miniature fruits. A strong scent of slightly bitter almonds rose from the candy, and she involuntarily wrinkled her nose. Although almond was not her favorite flavor-something Daniel would have no way of knowing-her heart melted at the thoughtful gesture. It had been a long time since a man had sent her candy.

In spite of not particularly liking marzipan, she reached for a piece, in the same spirit she used to slather butter on slices of black-bottomed bread from the loaves Sarah would burn while she perfected her baking skills. Before she could decide between the strawberry or the peach, another knock sounded on the door.

At her bid to enter, Nelson opened the door and walked toward her, this time bearing a silver salver upon which rested a card. "You've another delivery, my lady. In the foyer. This came with it." He extended the salver.

Another delivery? She put the cover back on the candy then slipped the box in the middle drawer. Plucing the folded vellum from the small tray, she broke the wax seal and scanned the neatly scripted words.

For Galatea, from the Highwayman. Because they remind him of you.

Heavens, Daniel had had a busy morning. She read the words again and warmth suffused her. This note was far more personal than the first one, and far more mystifying. She followed Nelson down the corridor. When she stepped into the foyer, she gasped. An enormous bouquet, the largest she'd ever seen, sat upon the cherrywood lanterloo table. The flowers were arranged in a stunning, huge cut crystal vase.

Every single bloom was a blush-colored rose.

Good heavens, there had to be at least ten dozen of them. The man must have beheaded every single rosebush in his conservatory. It was ridiculous and excessive and extravagant.

And wildly romantic.

They remind him of you…

Heat flushed through her entire body. Reaching out, she touched one of the delicate blooms and breathed in the heady fragrance scenting the foyer. A lovely, thoughtful gesture, the second one this morning, from a man she was coming to think of as just that-lovely and thoughtful.

As well as full of surprises. Indeed, she recalled that his plans for them this afternoon were also to be a surprise. Which meant he'd be providing three surprises in one day. And her providing none.

Not a very even score.

An idea formed in her mind and her lips curved upward in a secret smile.

She turned toward Nelson. "Lord Surbrooke will be calling at noon today. I'll receive him in my private sitting room." The drawing room wouldn't do at all for what she had in mind.

"Yes, my lady."

She slid one long-stemmed rose from the vase then headed toward the stairs.

It was time she surprised Daniel. And evened that lopsided score just a bit.


"Lady Wingate will join you shortly," Nelson said to Daniel after showing him into a cozy, tastefully furnished, yet feminine chamber that was clearly Carolyn's private sitting room. Daniel thanked the butler, who then left, closing the door quietly behind him. Surprised, he looked around at Carolyn's inner sanctum, wondering if there was any significance to her receiving him here rather than the drawing room. Not that he minded the extra privacy, especially given the news he had to share with her. He also couldn't deny he was relieved not to have that huge portrait of Edward staring down at them.

Turning in a slow circle, he took in his surroundings. Pale yellow silk covered the walls, which were decorated with gilt-framed watercolors of various plants and flowers. He suspected they were the work of her sister Sarah, who he knew possessed a great talent for such drawings, and upon closer inspection of one noted her signature in the corner.

A floor-to-ceiling bookcase was flanked by tall, dark green velvet draped windows through which skeins of sunshine slanted. A dainty reading and writing table sat in the corner near the window, positioned to perfectly capture the light. In the other corner was a Recamier couch, its rounded contours upholstered in a soft yellow and green stripe. His gaze fell upon a slender silver vase on an inlaid table next to it. The vase held a single flower-one of the blush pink roses from his conservatory. Surely that was a good sign.

A pair of overstuffed wing chairs set before the white marble fireplace in which a fire burned provided a cozy seating area. A large, ornately carved mirror hung above the mantel, upon which an unusual collection of small porcelain birds flocked. Combined with the moss green carpet decorated with pale pink cabbage roses, he felt as if he stood in the midst of an enchanted indoor garden. He breathed deeply and caught a hint of the subtle floral fragrance she wore. A Carolyn-scented indoor garden.

Carolyn… bloody hell, she hadn't been out of his thoughts for so much as a second since he'd left her last night. Since you left her last night? his inner voice echoed in an incredulous tone. She hasn't been out of your thoughts for an instant for a lot longer than that.

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Oh, all right, fine. She'd haunted his thoughts a hell of a lot longer, which was uncharacteristic of him. As was the way he'd lost control last night when he'd kissed her. Damn it, he never lost control like that. And as the result of a mere kiss? Unheard of.

Last night wasn't the first time you lost control with her, his inner voice reminded him slyly.

Oh, bloody well all right, fine. But he certainly wouldn't behave like that today. He had the afternoon carefully planned. Today was for getting to know more about her-an enjoyable outing followed by a leisurely seduction. He wouldn't rush her, and he certainly wouldn't pounce upon her like a green lad with no command over his passions.

He heard the door open and turned, a greeting upon his lips, which evaporated, along with his ability to speak, at the sight of her leaning against the oak panel.

Her honey-colored hair was loose, a shiny curtain that fell over her shoulders, the curling ends brushing her hips. And she wore… bloody hell, she wore an ivory satin robe, tied at the waist. And based on the way the material clung to her curves and outlined her pert nipples, that's all she wore. His stupefied stare wandered all the way down to her bare feet, then back up again, where he encountered her gaze, one that simmered with such sensual heat he felt as if his breeches had been lit on fire.

"Hello, Daniel," she said in a warm, sultry tone. He was about to open his mouth to reply, only to discover that at some point his jaw must have dropped because his mouth was already open. If he'd been able to tear his eyeballs away from her, he would have looked on the floor to see if his jaw had fallen to his feet.

She reached behind her and the click of the lock turning reverberated through the quiet room. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire and his own labored breathing. If he'd ever in his life seen anything more arousing than Carolyn in that robe, looking at him as if she wanted to toss him onto the nearest couch and have her wicked way with him, he couldn't recall what that thing might be.

Again he tried to speak, but again she robbed him of the ability when she pushed off from the door and moved toward him with a sway of her hips that could only be described as sinful. He was helpless to stop his body's swift reaction, and he inwardly shook his head. Hard as a damn brick and she hadn't even touched him. She halted when an arm's length separated them, and if he'd been capable of moving, he surely would have snatched her against him.

"I believe I was the last one who spoke," she said, sounding faintly amused.

He had to swallow twice to locate his voice. "No doubt because you've rendered me speechless. You look so… so…" Once again his gaze skimmed down her form and a groan rose in his throat. "Like a wicked angel."

"You sent me some lovely gifts this morning."

"If this is your way of thanking me, I'll empty my conservatory of flowers every day."

Mischief danced in her eyes. "I haven't even begun to thank you."

The aplomb she'd momentarily stolen returned-thank God, because she'd reduced him to a slack-jawed gawker-and he erased the distance between them in one step. Sliding his arms around her waist, he drew her closer, until they touched from chest to knee. He lowered his head until his lips hovered just above hers then asked, "What did you have in mind?"

"If I tell you, it will ruin the surprise." She entwined her arms around his neck and rose up on her toes to brush her mouth against his.

A shudder ran through him, and it required every ounce of his strength not to simply back her up against the wall and drive himself into her. Bloody hell, the way she repeatedly stripped him of his mastery over himself, reduced him to such a state and so damn quickly completely unsettled him. Although there was no denying that this playful, seductive side of her delighted as well as surprised him.