"I'll go to bed, milord, but I doubt I'll be gettin' any rest. Can't stop picturin' Katie in my mind."

As he couldn't stop picturing Carolyn in his mind, Daniel doubted he'd get much sleep, either. After bidding Samuel good-night, he climbed the stairs to his bedchamber, but instead of heading toward his turned-down bed, he poured himself a brandy then stood before the fireplace and stared into the remnants still glowing in the grate.

And all he saw was her. Her smile. Her beautiful face. Her gorgeous, expressive eyes. How many hours would he need to stare at her before he'd tire of looking at her? Hundreds? Thousands? A humorless sound escaped him. Somehow he suddenly couldn't envision ever growing bored of looking at her. Hearing her laughter. Listening to her voice.

Good God, he was going daft. When the bloody hell had the mere look of a woman, the sound of her laughter and voice, ever been enough to give him such a deep sense of satisfaction?

Never, his inner voice instantly answered.

His intense desire for her seemed to grow with each passing moment. He closed his eyes and recalled her in his conservatory. Gown bunched up, legs splayed, sex glistening with need. He swelled against his breeches and groaned. Bloody hell, he could still taste her on his tongue. And God knows he longed to have her beneath him, over him, wrapped around him.

Yet, also strong was this unfamiliar desire to simply talk to her. Spend time with her. Dance with her. Hold her hand. Be in the same room with her. Tell her things he'd never told anyone else. He'd never experienced such a thing before, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Sex, desire, lust were purely physical and ultimately uncomplicated. These unprecedented… feelings Carolyn inspired felt so extremely complicated. And dangerous. As if he were navigating rough seas without benefit of a boat.

With a sigh he glanced at the mantel clock.

Only eight hours twenty-seven minutes until he saw her again.

He groaned and performed a quick calculation in his head. Then, for the second time that evening, he found himself praying, this time that the next five hundred seven minutes would pass very, very quickly.

Chapter Thirteen

I'd always thought chess a boring game until my lover and I played a version where an article of clothing is discarded every time a piece is captured. Since I became naked before him, he named me the loser. Given the way he pleasured me with his mouth and tongue, however, I declared myself the winner.

Memoirs of a Mistress by An Anonymous Lady


As was her habit following breakfast, Carolyn retired to the drawing room to enjoy a second cup of coffee. Normally she sat at her desk near the window and tended to her correspondence, or if it were sunny, just enjoyed the warmth of the rays streaming through the glass panes. Today, however, she paced, too restless, too stirred up from the tumultuous events of the last few days. First a murder, then taking Daniel as a lover, the fright of nearly being shot, the knowledge that Daniel was the intended victim…

She drew in a shuddering breath. It was little wonder she could barely sit still. And all her churning thoughts circled around a single word.

Daniel.

After another lap around the Turkish rug, she paused before the hearth. Clutching her copy of the Memoirs to her chest, she looked up at Edward's portrait.

As it did every day, his handsome face regarded her with that same gentle expression. Not a trace of condemnation showed in his eyes.

"Do you understand?" she whispered around the lump clogging her throat. "I pray you do, although I'm not certain how you can since I barely comprehend what's happening myself."

Edward merely continued to gaze down on her with benign affection.

"You own my heart," she continued. "You always will. But Edward, I'm so desperately lonely. I didn't know how much until he kissed me. I hadn't realized how deeply I wanted, needed, to be desired in that way again. How much I missed being touched… and touching in return. How much I truly wanted to live my life to the fullest until that shot nearly ended it all."

She looked down at the book she held, at the single blush-colored rose Daniel had given her, now pressed between the pages. The things he'd done to her last night… Her breath caught at the memory of the shocking, stunning pleasure. There was no use lying to herself. She'd wanted that pleasure. Had craved it.

And she wanted it again.

Was her reading of the Memoirs the only reason she felt this way? If so, why had these feelings manifested themselves with this particular man? She couldn't explain it, but they had, and they were impossible to ignore. Even more so now, given all she'd discovered last night about Daniel-the kind, caring, and generous side of him she'd known nothing about. A side she found both intriguing and very attractive. And again, impossible to ignore.

She raised her gaze to the portrait. "I'm stunned by my reaction to him," she whispered to Edward's image. "I never thought… never expected… but I cannot deny I desire him. Of course I won't let him touch my memories of you. Will never allow him to come between what you and I once shared."

Yet even as she said the words, she wondered if it were truly possible. Feared it might already be too late. That at some point the reality of making love with Daniel would overtake the memories of what she'd shared with Edward. Ever since Daniel had kissed her at the masquerade ball it was his face that haunted her dreams. Conjuring Edward's image in her mind's eye was proving increasingly difficult with each intimacy she shared with Daniel.

Unless she stood here… gazing up at Edward's portrait. But even then, she sometimes couldn't quite recall the exact timbre of his voice. The precise cadence of his laugh. The actual way his hair and skin felt beneath her fingertips. Although those lapses in her memories had started before she'd been reacquainted with Daniel during Matthew's house party, there was no denying they'd increased since the handsome earl had come on the scene. No, she couldn't deny that the reality of Daniel's touch was more thrilling than the fading memory of Edward's-a fact that, in spite of her determination to move on, dismayed and frightened her and filled her with a profound sense of guilt.

Yet, despite the dismay, fear, and guilt, she simply could no longer ignore the fact that she hadn't died along with Edward. Or ignore the way Daniel made her feel, which she could sum up in one word.

Alive.

In so many ways. He made her laugh. Dear God, she hadn't laughed in so long. He made her want. And need. Things she'd never thought to want and need again. He made her feel young. And desirable. Made her want to spread her arms and simply twirl in circles of delight, for no other reason than knowing she could. And that he would take her hands and circle about with her. He made her feel…

Not alone.

Yet just when she discovered all this, she'd nearly lost her life. And his was in danger. Please, God, let that madman Tolliver be caught quickly…

She drew a deep breath, then told the portrait, "I've felt nothing save emptiness for three years." Hot moisture pooled in her eyes and she blinked. "Please, please, don't hate me, Edward. This… arrangement between Daniel and I is nothing more than physical. And only temporary. I never wanted to be here without you, but since I am… I'm just so tired of being alone."

Carolyn, my darling… I love you. Be happy.

Edward's last words, uttered with his final breath, whispered through her mind. She wasn't certain what happiness was anymore and certainly doubted she'd find it with this affair, but she knew it would ease the loneliness. Fill a small part of the emptiness. And until Daniel moved on to his next conquest, as she knew he would as soon as he tired of her-which, given his reputation, wouldn't be long-she'd enjoy his company and their time together. And when he moved on, so would she-reenergized and ready to do something worthwhile with her time.

With that settled in her mind, she crossed to her desk to slip the Memoirs into the top drawer. Before doing so, however, she ran the tip of her index finger over the gold lettering on the black leather cover, and images inspired from the book flickered through her mind. All mental pictures she wanted to turn into reality. With Daniel.

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.