He no longer gave a damn about marriage, husbands, wives. This was mating, savage and impossible to deny. In a just world, she would be his, protected by his strength and caring.

When had justice been part of his life? He would make her his own, now and forever.

His palm moved downward over the lithe curves of her torso, coming to rest on the mound at the junction of her thighs. Beneath the flimsy fabric was heat and the promise of musky welcome. As he caressed her, she became utterly still.

Her eyes snapped open and she cried out, "Oh, God, what am I doing?" Frantically she scrambled away from him, one hand holding her loose bodice over her breasts.

Taut and aching, he reached out to draw her back. "Catherine…?"

She jerked away from his hand as if it were a serpent.

The stark fear in her sea-colored eyes shocked him back to sanity with the abruptness of ice water. Bloody hell, what had he been doing?

Breaking the most solemn vow he had ever made to himself.

"Christ, I'm sorry. So damned sorry." He buried his face in his hands. His whole body trembled, and not only from the frustration that burned viciously through his veins. "I didn't mean that to happen. I swear it."

Voice shaking, she said, "Neither did I. I'm sorry, Michael. The fault was mine."

It was true that she had not resisted. Quite the contrary. But he had taken advantage of her misery, the grief she felt about her marriage. Though he had not done so deliberately, it was still wrong. Sweet Jesus, would he never learn? He thought he had learned from past mistakes, but obviously not.

Escape from the island would be the wisest course. However, that would leave Catherine with difficult explanations and might endanger her future security. They must find a way to cobble up the ragged tears in their relationship.

He raised his head. She had refastened her dress and seemed poised to flee. An incoming wave slapped over his bare feet. He stood and rolled his trousers to his knees, then extended his hand to her. "Walk with me. Splashing along the beach should help clear our scrambled wits."

His matter-of-fact tone had the desired effect. Catherine stood and shyly gave him one hand, using the other to catch up her skirts. Her ankles were slim and shapely. He looked away and led her along the beach. Low waves broke on the sand and ran hissing forward to drench their feet, then retreated.

"Something like this was bound to happen," Michael said in a conversational tone. "It's not for nothing that society says men and women should not be alone together unless they're married. The way we've been living in each other's pockets is enough to strain even the best of intentions." He gave her a slanting glance. "It doesn't help that I think you're the most attractive woman I've ever known."

"Oh, Lord." Catherine stopped, paralyzed by dismay. "If I had known how you felt, I never would have asked for your aid. I've put you in an intolerable position."

"How were you to know? I did my damnedest to behave myself in Belgium." He tugged on her hand and got her walking again. "Even though our little charade has played holy hell with my self-control, I'm glad you came to me for help. Though I'll understand if your trust is gone. I deserve to be horsewhipped."

"Please, don't blame yourself," she begged. "This whole convoluted mess is my fault."

The knowledge that he was behaving honorably while she was deceiving him sickened her. For a moment, she teetered on the verge of telling him the whole truth: about Colin's death, and her own secret love. But the reasons for silence were as strong as ever. Stronger, if anything. "We must leave the island immediately. I'll tell my grandfather that I can't bear to be separated from Amy any longer."

"He'll tell you to send for her. He doesn't want you to leave, and I can hardly blame him. The least we can do is stay the full fortnight. I'll sleep up on the battlements. That will remove the worst of the temptation."

"You can't do that," she exclaimed.

"Of course I can," he said mildly. "I've slept beneath the stars many times before. I rather enjoy it."

She bit her lip. "I'm causing you so much trouble. I'm the one who deserves to be horsewhipped, not you."

His mouth curved ruefully. "Beautiful women are for kissing, not whipping. Which is why I'll sleep on the roof. We'll manage."

No doubt they would. Yet as she remembered the fierce pleasure of his lovemaking, she knew that what was preserving her virtue was not honor, but fear.

Anne Mowbry was in the parlor, teaching embroidery to Molly and Amy, when Lord Haldoran called. Since it was the maid's afternoon off, she answered the door herself.

Haldoran removed his hat. "A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Mowbry. Is this a good time to visit?"

Why did visitors always come when she was wearing her third-best morning gown? "As good a time as any, my lord," she said philosophically. "Please, come in. It's kind of you to call."

The visitor stepped into the hall and was immediately surrounded by dogs and little girls. Anne concealed a smile at how taken aback he was. His lordship was obviously not a family man. Still, he greeted the girls politely and refrained from kicking an overexcited Clancy.

After the dogs had been shut away, she led him to the drawing room. As they went, he said, "Apart from the pleasure of seeing you, I have a mission on behalf of Mrs. Melbourne."

"I'm sorry, but Catherine is out of town at the moment."

"I know-she's on Skoal. I've just come from my house there. My family is from the island, and it turns out that she and I are cousins." He smiled. "I suspected it in Belgium, when I saw her eyes, but I didn't say so because I wasn't sure."

"Are you and I cousins, too?" Amy's voice piped up.

Anne glanced over and saw that the girls were sitting on the loveseat in the corner with their embroidery. In theory, they were dutifully working. In fact, they were eavesdropping shamelessly. "Yes, Lord Haldoran would be your cousin, also. But out with you both. You shouldn't be here."

"Actually, my visit concerns Amy. Since I was coming to London, Catherine asked me to bring her back to Skoal on my return journey. She wants her daughter to meet the laird."

"Really? I received a letter from her two days ago, and she mentioned nothing about that."

"She decided on impulse." He smiled tolerantly. "I suspect that the real reason is that she simply misses her daughter."

That had the ring of truth; Catherine had not liked going off without Amy. Anne said, "Did she give you a note for me?"

He shook his head. "As I said, she decided on impulse and came down to the harbor just as I was embarking. I had to leave quickly or miss the tide. I was pleased to be asked. After all, Amy and I are old traveling companions."

Anne thought of the anxious trip from Brussels to Antwerp. With Haldoran's escort, it had gone very smoothly. He had been patient under trying conditions. Letting Amy go with him now was hardly like turning the girl over to a stranger. Still… "I don't know if I should let Amy go without word from her mother."

Haldoran's brows rose, giving him a faintly disdainful air. "You are a fine guardian, Mrs. Mowbry, but really. After all, Catherine is my cousin."

"Please, Aunt Anne," Amy said coaxingly. "Mama said she might send for me if the visit was going well."

"Naturally, I'll hire a maid to travel along with us to attend to the young lady's needs," Haldoran added. "We'll leave early tomorrow morning."

Besieged on all sides, Anne capitulated. "Very well, you can go, Amy. But you'll have to take your lessons with you."

"I will!" Amy said exuberantly. She whirled and dashed out of the drawing room, presumably to start packing. Molly followed more slowly, disconsolate that she would not be going along.

Anne's heart lifted. Their luck had turned. Because of Lord Michael's reference, Charles was now happily working for the Duke of Candover and earning an astronomical salary, and it sounded as if Catherine was making good progress toward becoming the Lady of Skoal. How very grand they would all become. With a smile, she turned back to Lord Haldoran to finalize the traveling plans.

Chapter 26

As Michael had suspected, there was tension between him and Catherine after the harrowing incident on the beach, but after a day it began to fade. She still tended to avoid his eye, and he had trouble looking at her and not remembering the taste and feel of her breasts. However, he was able to keep his hands off her, and that was what counted.

Three days later, they dined with the vicar and his wife. It was a pleasant evening, and Michael was feeling mellow when they returned to the castle. Another week and they would be safely back in London, beyond the reach of temptation. But in the meantime… he had another week with Catherine.

The front door was unlocked, like all Skoalan homes. They entered the foyer together. He was about to go upstairs when she glanced at a side table. "Some letters came for you, my dear." She handed him a small packet wrapped in oilcloth.

Michael felt a twinge when he saw the name "Captain Colin Melbourne." He really did not enjoy using Colin's identity. The parcel was certainly for himself, though; it was franked "Strathmore" in the corner and addressed in Lucien's hand. "I wonder what was important enough to be sent here."

"A matter of business, I expect." Catherine covered a yawn with her hand. "I think I'll go and say good night to my grandfather if he's still awake. I'll be up in a few minutes."