Caro had Edward ring for tea. Over their cups, George, Michael, and Geoffrey discussed crops, weather, and yields; she determinedly steered Muriel’s thoughts to the fete, inquiring as to the numerous stalls, refreshments, and entertainments that were all coming together under Muriel’s eagle eye.

Tea consumed, Muriel and George took their leave. Geoffrey retreated to his study; Caro, with Michael and Edward in train, made for the parlor.

Elizabeth had had her own tea tray brought in; she set down her cup and the novel she’d been reading as Caro entered. “I heard Muriel’s voice.” She grimaced. “I assumed if you needed me, you’d send for me.”

Caro waved. “Of course.” She sat on the chaise, fixed her gaze on Michael as he lounged in the armchair opposite; Edward perched on the arm of the other chair. “Those two weaselly men we saw Ferdinand speaking with in the forest. Do you think…?”

Edward frowned. “What two men?”

Michael explained. Edward shot a concerned glance at Caro. “You think Ferdinand hired them to burgle Sutcliffe Hall?”

“I think,” Michael broke in decisively, “that we’re getting ahead of ourselves. While I agree that Ferdinand, with his sudden interest in Camden’s papers, having a clandestine meeting with two men whom neither Caro nor I recognized but who certainly looked like thieves, and Sutcliffe Hall being burgled two nights later, is suggestive, it’s hardly proof. Indeed, it could have been as George suggested—vagabonds seeking shelter from the storm.”

He looked at Caro. “The end of the Hall’s west wing is the most isolated part of the house, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Camden liked it for that reason—the others in the house didn’t disturb him.”

“Exactly. And the forest encroaches on that side, so if any vagabonds were looking for a refuge, it’s the most likely place they’d enter.”

Caro pulled a face. “You’re saying it could just be coincidence.”

He nodded. “I’m hardly a Leponte supporter, but there’s insufficient evidence to charge the break-in to his account.”

“But we can keep a closer eye on him.” Edward’s tone had hardened.

Michael met his gaze. “Indeed. Regardless of our lack of proof in this instance, I definitely think that would be wise.”

Michael and Edward spent the next half hour discussing possibilities; they settled on alerting the Bramshaw House staff to watch for any intruders, citing the burglary at Sutcliffe Hall as the cause of their concern.

“Leadbetter Hall is too far away to mount a meaningful watch directly on Leponte.” Michael grimaced. “And with the fete and the ball in the offing, there are too many easily constructed reasons for him to be out and about around Bramshaw anyway. Short of alerting half the county, there’s not much more we can do.”

Edward nodded. “The ball will be his best chance to search here, don’t you think?”

“Yes—we’ll have to make sure he’s watched at all times.”

Caro listened, agreed when appealed to, but otherwise held her tongue; she had enough to do organizing her ball without worrying about Ferdinand. Besides, it was clear she could leave that to Michael and Edward.

The sun was sinking behind the trees when Michael rose. She rose, too, watched while he took his leave of Elizabeth and Edward; when he turned to her, she gave him her hand and an easy smile. “Good-bye.”

Discussion of the ball had reminded her just how much there was yet to do, to organize, supervise, and manage. Regardless of their decision to embark on an affair, she did not need further distraction just now.

He held her hand, held her gaze, then raised her fingers and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “I’ll call on you tomorrow afternoon.”

She turned with him to the door; he still held her fingers. “Tomorrow will be very busy.” She lowered her voice so only he could hear. “There’s a great deal we have to do with both the preparations for the ball and our contribution to the fete.”

Pausing at the door, he looked down at her. “Nevertheless, I’ll be here midafternoon.” The words were a promise, underscored by the weight of his gaze. He again raised her fingers; his eyes on hers, he kissed them, then released her. “Look for me then.”

With a nod and that same intent look, he left.

She stood in the doorway listening to his retreating footsteps, and wondered… in agreeing to an affair, just what had she agreed to?

The question resonated in her mind the following afternoon when she stood on the terrace, hands on her hips, and glared at Michael.

She opened her mouth—

He pointed a finger at her nose. “Without argument. Remember?”

She let out her breath in an exasperated hiss through teeth unbecomingly clenched. “I—”

“You have precisely five minutes to change into your riding habit. I’ll meet you on the front steps with the horses.”

With that, he turned, went down the terrace steps, and strode away toward the stables—leaving her with her mouth open… and a sneaking suspicion she had no alternative but to fall in with his plans.

She’d never been so dictated to in her life!

Swinging around, muttering dire imprecations against males, all males, presumptuous or otherwise, she whipped off her apron, swung through the kitchens to check with Cook and Mrs. Judson, then hurried upstairs. Ten minutes later, after remembering and delivering the instructions she’d been on her way to give when the sight of Michael striding purposefully up to the house had distracted her, she hurried into the front hall.

Looking down, tugging on her riding gloves, she ran straight into a wall of solid male muscle her senses had no difficulty recognizing.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” she protested, bouncing off.

He steadied her, then locked one hand about one of hers. “Just as well.”

His growl made her blink, but she couldn’t see his face—he’d already turned and was striding for the door, towing her behind him. She had to hurry to keep up, frantically grabbing up her habit’s skirt so she could clatter down the steps in his wake.

“This is ridiculous!” she grumbled as he towed her relentlessly to Calista’s side.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

He halted by the mare’s side, swung around to lift her up. He closed his hands about her waist, then paused.

She looked up, met his eyes. As always, she was screamingly aware of her giddy senses’ preoccupation with him and his nearness, but she seemed to be growing used to the effect.

“Have you had an affair before?”

The question had her blinking her eyes wide. “No! Of course not…” The words were out before she’d thought.

But he merely nodded, somewhat grimly. “I thought not.”

With that, he lifted her to her saddle, held her stirrup while she slid her boot in.

Settling her skirts, she frowned at him as he went to his horse and mounted. “What’s that got to say to anything?”

Picking up his reins, he met her gaze. “You’re not exactly making it easy.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I told you.” She brought Calista up beside him and they set out along the drive. “There’s the ball, the fete—I’m busy.”

“You’re not—you’re skittish, and looking for excuses to avoid taking the plunge.”

She looked ahead; she made no attempt to meet his eyes, yet she felt his gaze on her face.

“You’re the epitome of efficiency, Caro—you can’t expect me to believe you can’t take two hours out of the afternoon of the day before what for you is a relatively minor ball.”

He was right, at least about that last. She frowned, more inwardly than outwardly. Was he right about the rest, too? She knew what she feared; had it really cut so deep, did the fear hold her so securely that she would unthinkingly, instinctively as he was suggesting, avoid any situation that might challenge it?

She glanced at him. He was watching her but, as their eyes met, she realized he wasn’t seeking to pressure her. He was, most definitely, seeking to understand her; as yet, he couldn’t.

Her heart gave a little twist, a small leap; she looked ahead. Unsure how she felt about being understood, or his wish to do so. After a moment of steady cantering, she cleared her throat. Drew breath and lifted her chin. “I might, indeed, appear to erect hurdles, but I assure you I don’t mean to.” She glanced at him. “I’m every bit as determined on our present course as you are.”

His lips lifted; his smile was all male. “In that case, don’t worry.” He held her gaze. “I’ll ignore your hurdles.”

She humphed and looked ahead, not at all sure she approved of such a tack, yet… as they cantered through the golden afternoon, she drew a certain measure of comfort from it. Regardless of what silly vacillations her fears might drive her to, he wasn’t going to allow her to avoid or resist him—to draw back. In battling her fears, it seemed she’d found an ally.

It wasn’t until they were almost at the clearing that she realized they’d retraced their route to the Rufus Stone. When they cantered into the wide field carpeted in the green and gold of fresh grass and turning leaves, she wondered why he’d chosen this place, wondered what he was planning.

They halted; he dismounted, tethered the horses, then came to lift her down. He lowered her slowly; even when she was steady on her feet, he didn’t let her go.

She looked up; their gazes locked. She felt the fascination between them draw tight, as he drew her closer and bent his head felt their mutual hunger awake.

With his lips, Michael brushed her temple, then bent lower to trace the curve of her ear and nuzzle the sweet hollow beneath. He inhaled, let her scent sink slowly through him, felt himself react. I should probably admit…“