"I find that difficult to believe."

"Oh, but it's true. I'm afraid I was obliged to live a very quiet life until last year."

"Due to your husband's age and infirmities, I expect."

"Uh, yes. Mr. Bright did not get out much." "And therefore, neither did you." "No."

"Tell me something, Iphiginia," Marcus said very softly. "Were you faithful to your Mr. Bright?"

Iphiginia gasped and somehow managed to stumble over a small stone buried in the grass. "What a ridiculous question, my lord."

He steadied her. "What is so strange about it? You have been in Society long enough to know that faithful wives are few and far between."

"From what I have observed, the number of unfaithful wives is exceeded only by the number of unfaithful husbands," Iphiginia retorted.

"I suppose that is true."

Having won the point and neatly changed the topic in the process, Iphiginia grew suddenly more daring. "Were you a faithful husband, my lord?"

Marcus was silent for a moment. "I have a rule against discussing my past. Most particularly, I do not discuss my marriage."

The rebuff chilled Iphiginia. "Yes, of course. How could I forget your infamous rules? Tell me, do you enjoy living by such rigid rules, sir?"

"They have served me well." "Life is short," Iphiginia whispered. "I find that too many rules can make one's existence seem very dull and confined."

"I find that they protect one's privacy." "But one misses out on so much of life's excitement when one lives by the overly strict rules of Society," Iphiginia protested.

"I do not live by Society's rules, Iphiginia. I live by my own."

They wandered into a more heavily wooded portion of the extensive Pettigrew gardens. The lights of the big house were far behind them now. When Iphiginia glanced over her shoulder, she realized she could not even see the stately home any longer. A stand of trees stood in the way.

The night was fit only by starlight and the glow of the nearly full moon.

"It is as if we were alone in the world," Iphiginia said. "A very pleasant sensation." Marcus glanced at a large structure looming in a nearby grove. "What have we here?"

Iphiginia saw the tall, elegant columns of the Temple of Vesta. "That is the ruin. I finished my measurements of it this afternoon while you were in Pettigrew's library. By the bye, did you discover anything of interest there?"

"No. Pettigrew uses red wax. There was no sign of any black wax in his jack and his seal bears the emblem of a hart."

"How very disappointing. Did you examine his desk with great care?"

"Yes, I did. Trust me, Pettigrew is not the blackmailer." Marcus changed course to stroll over to the circular structure. "Did you find this Temple of Vesta to be a good copy of the original in Tivoli?"

Iphiginia heaved a small sigh of regret over the news that Pettigrew had been removed from the list of suspects. She surveyed the graceful, airy antiquity. Moonlight cascaded down through the open roof, lending an enchanting, mystical quality to the ruin that had not been present earlier in the day.

"Not had, actually, she said judiciously. "It conveys the lightness of feeling that one encounters in the original. You will note the fine proportions of the columns. The circle in which they are constructed is quite precise in measurement." "Indeed." Iphiginia realized that Marcus was looking at her, not at the temple. His eyes gleamed in the shadows. Something in his low, deep voice turned her insides to warm pudding.

She took a breath and tried to sound suitably casual and erudite. "One can almost imagine the Vestal Virgins tending the sacred flame within such a classical setting."

"Your imagination is considerably more vivid than mine." Marcus led her between two of the tall stone columns. He drew her to a halt in the center of the round floor and stood gazing about with amused interest. "I cannot seem to conjure up any virgins here, but I find the setting inspiring nonetheless."

Iphiginia felt her mouth go dry. "Do you?" "Yes." He framed her face with his strong hands. "The name Lady Starlight suits you, Iphiginia. You were horn to walk in starlight,"

She shivered. I was born to love you, she thought. A haunting sadness swept through her. She would very likely never be able to say those words aloud to him because he would not want to hear them.

"Have you enjoyed playing my mistress, Iphiginia?" "Oh, yes. Enormously. As your paramour, I am considered absolutely riveting by ah' and sundry. In truth, I shall he a bit sorry when the whole thing is over."

"Will you?" "Well, not entirely," she confessed. "The thing is, it would he a great nuisance to be the focus of so many eyes all of the time. But I must admit that it has been something of a grand adventure. Almost as exciting as my recent journey to Italy."

Marcus's brows rose. "Almost as exciting? I am devastated to hear that being my mistress has not been quite as entrancing as your tour of antiquities."

Iphiginia was horrified at the realization that she might have insulted him. "I did not mean to offend you, my lord. In truth, I have found playing the part of your mistress vastly interesting."

"But not quite as interesting as, say, touring the ruins of Pompeii?"

"Well, Pompeii is Pompeii, after all, my lord," she chided gently. "Few things on the face of the earth can compare with that."

"No, I suppose not. But allow me to try to add some additional excitement to your current adventure."

His mouth closed over hers. Iphiginia did not know whether it was the moonlight or the heat from Marcus's body that set her senses on fire.

CHAPTER TEN

THIS WAS THE RIGHT PLACE, THE RIGHT TIME, THE RIGHT man. Iphiginia was utterly lost in the glorious wonder of that realization. It was as though everything she had done since she had cast off the shackles of her quiet, proscribed life in Deepford last year had been done in preparation for this moment.

She was free. Free of her obligations to her sister, face of the suffocating rules of her small village, free from the beady, prying eyes of disapproving neighbors.

During the past year she had come into her own and now she was truly free to love for the first time in her life.

She must seize the moment, she thought. She would worry about the consequences later.

This was the grandest adventure of all, one she had begun to fear that she would never have an opportunity to experience.

She stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms tightly around Marcus's neck.

A shudder went through him. He gave a low, rasping sound and deepened his kiss. He gripped her fiercely, holding her still while he explored her mouth.

Iphiginia sighed softly and leaned closer, her senses thrilling to his warmth and strength.

"My sweet Lady Starlight." Marcus slid his big hand slowly down Iphiginia's throat. He eased her delicate white shawl aside, exposing her hare shoulders. "You cannot know how I have ached to touch you again."

"Yes. Please touch me. Please, Marcus." Iphiginia turned her head to kiss his hand. She felt the soft cashmere shawl fall from her shoulders and drift down to pool at her feet.

She was dazed by the moonlight and his touch. Nothing seemed quite real and yet her senses had never been more acutely alive. His fingers probed gently, seeking the fastenings of her gown.

A small, distinct shock went through her when Marcus found the tapes, undid them, and slowly, reverently lowered the bodice. The soft, scented air wafted over her bare breasts.

She buried her face against his cravat. "Beautiful." Marcus covered her nipples with his palms. "So beautiful."

Iphiginia felt her breasts swell and become incredibly sensitive beneath his warm hand. She shivered at the realization that, although he had touched her with dazzling intimacy the other night in Lartmore's statuary hall, Marcus had never actually seen her nude.

Until tonight no man had ever seen her naked. She should have been mortified, Iphiginia thought. But the sensual admiration in Marcus's voice was having just the opposite effect. He made her feel exquisite and irresistible.

The urge to explore him as he was exploring her swamped any lingering hesitation. She reached up and began to untie his cravat with trembling fingers.

"Yes," Marcus whispered. A moment later the ends of the long neckcloth hung loose.

Iphiginia looked at him. The hard planes of his face were etched in moonlight and shadow. His eyes were brilliant. His mouth curved slightly in a small smile of unmistakable sensual hunger.

"Marcus?" She did not know how to ask the unformed question. She only knew that she wanted more than a kiss out here in the moonlight.

"Why not?" he said, as if he had read her mind. He drew his thumb slowly along the line of her jaw. "I had thought to wait until we had returned to the privacy of your bedchamber, but some things cannot he put off."

He bent his head and kissed the curve of her shoulder. She shivered in his arms and thrust her hands beneath the edges of his shirt. Deliberately she flattened her palms against the strong, sleek muscles of his chest.

"You feel wondrously fine, my lord," she breathed, awed by the feel of him. "Altogether magnificent. You remind me of a statue of Hercules that I once viewed in Venice."

Marcus gave a muffled laugh that quickly turned into a groan. "Be warned, I am no statue, madam, although at the moment a certain part of me is certainly as hard as stone."