She could feel the heat of him, the delicious fullness, and then he started to move. Long, determined strokes shook her, sent ripples of fire burning out through her skin. Deep, penetrating strokes sent waves of pleasure coursing through her. Gripping her hips, he held her immobile, pounding into her, impaling her as deeply as he could. Lee moaned at the sweet sensations sweeping through her, thick saturating waves that seeped out from her core and trembled over her flesh. Her body tightened around him and she heard him groan.

Caleb didn't slow until she reached release and even then he went on until she came again. Finally, he allowed his own climax to come, his big hands tightening around her hips, his body going rigid. Bare-chested, still wearing his breeches, he lay down on the bed and pulled her into his arms. As she curled against him, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the heat of his smooth, sun-darkened skin.

"You taste like berries," he said softly, his mouth just inches from her ear. "Even your nipples. God, Lee."

She started to smile. He had called her Lee, not Vermillion. Lee. The way he had before.

He turned onto his side, traced a finger along her cheek. "You don't have to be Vermillion, love. Not ever again. I never wanted Vermillion—I've told you that from the start. It's you I want, Lee. It's always been you."

Something burned behind her eyes and her lips trembled.

"You're here because you chose to be. You'll stay for that reason or not at all. You're no man's harlot and especially not mine."

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry, Caleb. I've just… it's all been so confusing."

"It's all right, love. I'm a little confused myself."

He lifted a lock of her hair, toyed with it, smoothed it between his fingers. "Tomorrow we're going shopping. I want you to pick out a completely new wardrobe—the kind of dresses you'd like to wear, not something your aunt has convinced you to wear." He grinned as he looked down at the flimsy lavender gown that no longer even covered her breasts. "Though I can't fault your choice of night clothes."

She laughed. It felt incredibly good. And she couldn't find fault with the lesson she had received, since she had baited him into it. In truth, she could hardly wait for the next one.

"I think I should like that sort of shopping, but I insist on paying for what I purchase."

He cast her a look, started to argue, closed his mouth and sighed. "Fine, if it makes you happy, you can pay."

At the very least, it would help her maintain a little of her treasured independence. But the thing that most made her happy was Caleb. Dear Lord, she loved him a little more every day.

It was a terrifying thought.

He bent his head and nuzzled her shoulder, traced the star-shaped birthmark the sleeveless nightgown could not hide, bent and pressed his mouth to the spot. "I've seen a mark like this before. I've been trying to remember where it was."

Lee turned away, an uneasy feeling crawling into her stomach. She knew who carried a mark like this. Her mother had told her and so had her aunt.

"It'll come to me, sooner or later."

Lee hoped he never recalled, but even if he did, surely the mark he had seen had nothing to do with her.

"You must be tired," she said, changing the subject. "Why don't you finish undressing so you can get some sleep?"

His mouth curved roguishly. "I'm not tired, woman—I'm hungry. I think I'd like a little dessert and I know exactly the thing." Bending his head to her breast, he whispered, "Some fresh berries would exactly suit my appetite."


It took Caleb three more days to remember where he had seen a birthmark the same shape as the one Lee carried on her shoulder. The dormitory at Oxford. The rusty-pink, star-shaped image rode in the exact same location on the shoulder, but the bearer of the mark hadn't been a woman. It had been a young student named Bronson Montague, eldest son of the Marquess of Kinleigh, who boarded in the room next to his.

Now that Caleb remembered seeing the mark on Bronson's shoulder, the memory continued to nag him. Could Lee be related to Montague in some way? Bronson was older, the same age as Caleb. He wondered if Lee knew anything about him.

It was the question foremost on his mind as he climbed the stairs to her suite at the Hotel Purley. He hadn't looked for any other place. He wouldn't be in London that much longer, though he still hadn't told Lee how soon he would be leaving.

He was acting as her lady's maid at present, enjoying the role more than he would have thought. He wanted her all to himself. He didn't want to spoil the brief time they had left together. Or perhaps he was simply trying to avoid the truth himself.

Whatever the reason, the days were slipping away, and Caleb was determined that when he left London, Lee Durant would be facing a better sort of life than she was living now.

Thinking about her brought a faint smile to his face. Yesterday they had finished the last of their shopping, more fun than he had expected since Lee was so excited about everything she bought—an amazing assortment of gowns, walking dresses, morning dresses, riding habits, bonnets, gloves, mantuas, cloaks, pelisses, boots and slippers.

"I never liked shopping before," she told him. "It's different when you're buying things for yourself. Before I was buying clothes for Vermillion."

Something about the way she said the name gave his heart a little pang. It was clear she was Lee now, a new and different person, even more vibrant than the independent young woman he had first discovered in the stable. And even more enticing.

Last night they had gone to the opera and Lee had surprised him by translating the Italian lyrics for him.

"I've always loved opera," she said, a wistful look in her eyes. "Since the first time Aunt Gabby took me to see Lucio Vero when I was a little girl."

"Where did you learn to speak Italian?" he asked.

"My aunt believed in a thorough education. Aunt Gabby says it makes a woman more interesting to a man." She shrugged. "Whatever the reason, I am grateful. I also speak Latin, and of course I speak French."

Caleb smiled, no longer daunted by her ancestry. "My French is passable at best, but I'm fluent in Spanish. It's come in handy over the past few years."

The words brought a pall over the conversation and he wished he hadn't said them. He told himself it was time to tell her how soon he would be returning to duty, but she started smiling again and he decided to wait.

Today he was taking her to the house she often visited in Buford Street, to see Helen and Annie and the other women and children who had become her friends.

Earlier that morning, he had left to run a couple of errands. Sometime just before dawn, he had started thinking again about the traitor passing secrets to the French, and though he was officially off the assignment, a couple of things needed checking into.

Foremost among them, Lucas's recent discovery that Andrew Mondale was spending money as if suddenly he had buckets of it. Coupled with the fact the man had made mention to Lee of recent troop movements on the Continent, Caleb hoped it might turn into some sort of a lead.

He hadn't voiced his suspicions to Lee. He had told her he was off the case and had been granted a couple weeks of leave. He knew he should tell her that at the end of that leave he would be returning to Spain, and vowed that soon he would do so. In the meantime, he intended they should enjoy themselves, spend as much time together as he could manage.

Caleb knocked on her door and Lee pulled it open. He reached for her, swept her into his arms, and very soundly kissed her. "Did you miss me?"

She looked up at him and the smile in her eyes made his chest feel tight. "Miss you? You've only been gone a couple of hours—of course I missed you." She kissed him, drew him farther into the room.

"Guess what?" He didn't let her go, just closed the door with the toe of his boot. "I remembered where I saw a birthmark like the one on your shoulder."

She released her hold on his neck and eased away. "Oh?"

"It was a fellow I knew at Oxford. Bronson Montague. He's heir to the Marquess of Kinleigh."

"That's interesting."

There was something guarded in her manner that put him on alert. "You don't seem that surprised."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't imagine a birthmark is all that uncommon."

Caleb reached out and caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. "It is when it is exactly the same shape as yours and in the very same location."

She turned her face away, walked over to the mullioned windows, gazed down into the street. "Those things happen, I guess."

Caleb followed. In the street below the window, a young boy hawked newspapers on the corner. A donkey with a floppy felt hat over its ears pulled a cartload of coal over the cobbles.

Caleb rested his hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. "You've never mentioned your father, Lee. I presumed you didn't know who he was. But you do know, don't you? You've known all along. Is your father the Marquess of Kinleigh?"

Beneath his hand, he felt her stiffen. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Don't lie to me, Lee. Not about something this important."

"Important?" Her eyes locked with his. "Why would it be important? It wasn't important when Kinleigh told my mother he was in love with her. When he asked her to marry him then got her with child. It wasn't important when he broke his promise and married someone else."

Caleb said nothing. He couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"You know why I've never been interested in marriage? Because I know how faithless men are. I know what happened to my mother. I know how the marquess treated her. Every day men just like him come to Parklands. They treat their wives little better than their livestock. Kinleigh is exactly the same. My mother died when I was four and she was still foolishly in love with him. The last word she spoke was his name."

Caleb wasn't certain what to say. Through his father and horse racing, he knew Robert Montague fairly well, had always respected him as a man of honor. He couldn't imagine the marquess seducing an innocent young girl, then abandoning her, but that was obviously what the marquess had done.

A sudden thought occurred. "Does Kinleigh know?"

"About me? I couldn't say." She nervously smoothed a lock of her hair. "I assume he does."

But maybe he didn't. Maybe he never knew his seduction had led to the birth of a child. Caleb couldn't help wondering what would happen if he found out. He gently drew Lee into his arms.

"I'm sorry about your mother. Sometimes things like that happen. But all men aren't that way. My father and mother loved each other very much. Father was devoted to Mother from the day they wed until the day she died. He misses her terribly now that she is gone. My brother Christian is madly in love with his wife. I don't believe he will ever be unfaithful."

Lee slid her arms around his neck and he tightened his hold. "Please, Caleb," she said softly. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Caleb eased her back enough to look into her face. "All right. But I want you to know I am nothing at all like your father—or the men who come to Parklands. I want you to promise me you will tell me if a child should result from the time we've spent together."

She pulled away from him, returned to her vigil at the window. "That's right—you would accept your responsibilities. I haven't forgotten, Caleb."

"I would marry you, Lee." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. What surprised him was how much he meant them. His family would probably disown him. His brothers would think he was the worst sort of fool, but marrying Lee, raising a family with her, wouldn't be a hardship for him at all.

Her gaze swung to his face and he had never seen such turbulence in her expression. "You're a soldier, Caleb. War is what you do. You'd be gone most of the time. You wouldn't be much of a father."

She was right and both of them knew it. Not much of a father—or a husband. "Better than no father at all."

Lee made no reply. Perhaps she was thinking of Robert Montague, the father she had never known.

"The day is slipping away," she finally said. "If I'm going to have time to visit with my friends, I think we had better leave."

Caleb didn't argue. He needed time to evaluate the importance of what he'd just learned. But all the way to the house in Buford Street, a single thought continued to nag him. What would Kinleigh do if he knew about Lee?