"The earl has just returned to England," Aunt Gabby said. "He owns a very successful cocoa plantation in the West Indies."

"How terribly exciting," Vermillion lied, wondering, as she had a thousand times, how her aunt could possibly be enjoying herself. Yet Vermillion knew that she was. Lee had lived with her aunt since she was four years old, when her mother had died and Aunt Gabriella had appeared like a golden-haired angel at the orphanage and taken Vermillion into her home. The two sisters were nothing alike. Angelique Durant was shy and reserved while Gabriella was La Belle, celebrated and adored in the world in which she lived.

She surrounded herself with the wealthy elite and made friends of artisans, actors, and aristocrats, most of them men, of course. She loved her life and the power she wielded, and she couldn't imagine that Vermillion would want to live any other sort of existence.

"Would you care to dance, my dear?" Lord Derry asked, hovering far too close to suit her. "Afterward I shall be happy to tell you all about life in the Indies."

Vermillion inwardly groaned, imagining an hour-long discourse on heat and bugs and the necessity of owning other human beings. But her smile remained in place. "I should adore dancing with you, my lord." The words came out with a throaty purr that seemed to change men from lions into lambs.

She let the earl guide her away from her aunt and her friends, onto the parquet floor at the end of the salon where a four-piece orchestra, garbed in pale blue livery, played the upbeat strains of a contradanse.

Vermillion smiled her practiced smile and fell into the steps of the dance, but her mind was as far from Lord Derry's plantation as it could possibly get. It was a trick her aunt's friend, Lisette Moreau, had taught her. Separate yourself, assume an outward appearance designed to please the gentlemen while inside you go wherever you most wish to be.

As she executed the steps her dancing master had hammered into her, Lee rode like the wind over the green fields of Parklands. Tomorrow morning, she vowed, no matter how tired she was, she would indulge herself in her heart's greatest pleasure.

At the edge of her mind, she heard the music, felt his lordship's bony fingers leading her into a turn. Letting her lashes sweep down to veil her eyes, she moistened her lips, and mentally went back to the feel of the wind in her hair and the sound of thundering hoofbeats. Mounted on Noir, she approached a high rock wall. She could feel the horse straining beneath her, his powerful muscles collecting as they soared over the wall, came down on the opposite side, and made a perfectly executed landing.

"That was marvelous, my dear," Lord Derry was saying, placing a kiss on the back of her hand.

"Yes, it was," she said, remembering the thrill of a perfectly executed jump. "Thank you, my lord."

His lordship's watery blue eyes remained glued to her breasts. "Now… about my cocoa plantation… Perhaps a turn round the terrace would—"

"Sorry to interrupt, but Miss Durant has promised her next dance to me." Jonathan Parker, Viscount Nash, stood just a few feet away, a warm smile on his face. Of all the men of her acquaintance, Nash was among those Vermillion liked best.

"They are playing a waltz, I believe." He took hold of her hand. "Shall we?" The viscount was a tall, attractive man in his late thirties with dark hair silvered at the temples. He was a true gentleman, she thought, a widower these past three years. Jon was intelligent and kind and he had made it clear he was among those men who wished to become her protector.

Perhaps he is the one I should choose, she thought. Jon would be good to her and his demands in the boudoir would likely be less than those of a young stallion like Lord Andrew Mondale.

It was in that moment she spotted that particular gentleman striding toward her, Andrew Mondale, blond and handsome, if a bit foppishly dressed in a grass-green tailcoat with glittering gold and emerald buttons.

Vermillion inwardly sighed, steeled herself, and gave him a sultry smile. The night, it seemed, was going to be a long one.


In the end, to her good fortune, the evening had ended earlier than she had imagined. Midway through the dancing, while her aunt was holding court with her never-ending circle of friends, Lee had given in to her secret wish to retire, pled the headache, and slipped upstairs to her bedchamber.

This morning, amazingly alert and energetic, she climbed out of bed before dawn looking forward to the outing she had promised herself. Eager to reach the stable, she finished her brief toilette, ignored the expensive forest green velvet riding habit that had just arrived from London, and chose instead the form-fitting breeches and full-sleeved shirt she'd had custom-made for her several years ago at L.T. Piver's in London.

Lee had to admit there were advantages to the world in which she lived. One of them was that social dictates did not apply. By the nature of their business, the Durant women were exempt. Walking past the rosewood armoire that contained the cumbersome habit, her long red hair plaited into a single thick braid, Lee reached into a drawer of her rosewood dresser and grabbed a woolen cap in concession to the morning chill, pulled on her kidskin riding boots, and set off for the servants' stairs at the rear of the house.

The mid-May weather was crisp and clear, the sky a purple-tinged haze just beginning to brighten. She preferred to leave before the servants were up and beginning their chores, while the stable was still quiet, giving her a sense of freedom she found only out here with her beautiful horses.

She loved them all but especially Noir Diamant, Black Diamond, her prize Thoroughbred stallion, and Grand Coeur, Great Heart, the tall gray jumper she usually rode. She paused in front of Noir's stall to rub his velvety nose, but the stallion would be racing later in the week, so she chose Grand Coeur instead.

Coeur was an amazing horse that could run like the wind and jump the way she had imagined last night. Her gaze skipped to her comfortable sidesaddle with its padded tapestry seat, but Lee ignored it, just bridled Coeur and led him from his stall. She had worn the shirt and breeches so that she could ride bareback, completely unfettered and free.

Lee smoothed the stallion's dapple-gray coat, spoke to him gently, and led him out of the barn into the pale golden glow of early morning. Coeur nudged her with his beautiful head, danced and sidestepped, as eager for the morning's exercise as she.

Looping the reins over the horse's neck, she climbed up on the mounting block and settled herself on the stallion's back. The gray looked back at her and flicked his ears. Beneath her, his long, sleek muscles bunched in anticipation.

"You want this as much as I do, don't you, boy?"

As if in answer, the stallion nickered softly. Lee nudged her bootheels into the horse's ribs, urging him into a trot that carried them away from the barn and out into the open fields. Pulling on her woolen cap to keep her ears warm, she bent over the stallion's neck, urging him to pick up his pace. The horse responded to her subtle commands as if he could read her thoughts and her troubles began to fade.

She felt the rush of wind past her cheeks, felt a stray curl flutter at the base of her neck, and began to smile.


Pouring water into the porcelain basin in his room at the far end of the stable, Caleb splashed water on his face to chase away the cobwebs of sleep and dressed to begin the day. The night had been a long one, spent in the damp shadows outside the mansion, watching for anything that might be amiss inside, watching Vermillion charm her endless admirers with the cool smiles and throaty laughter that seemed to ripple through his insides.

She had gone to bed earlier than he expected. Caleb had scraped his knuckles and ripped his breeches, climbing the trellis behind the house to reach the balcony outside her bedchamber only to discover that she slept alone. It bothered him how much he wanted to slip into the room and join her in her satin-draped bed.

He was thinking about her as he walked from stall to stall to check on the horses, stopping stock-still when he noticed the door to Grand Coeur's stall stood open and the stallion was nowhere in sight. Caleb quickly scanned the interior of the barn. Noir stood lazily in his stall, one of half-dozen other horses who stuck their heads over the open stall doors to see who had entered.

One of the stalls was empty except for a fat yellow cat contentedly sleeping in the straw, her stomach stretched to near bursting with the kittens that appeared long overdue. Everything was the same as it had been last night—except that the expensive gray was missing.

Bloody hell! Caleb clenched his jaw as he turned toward the door. He could just imagine what his petite employer would say if she discovered he had lost one of her most valuable horses. He didn't much like the idea himself.

Striding out of the barn, Caleb made his way outside to survey the rolling fields in the ridiculous hope he would spot the animal placidly grazing in the pasture. He was amazed to see the gray disappearing over a rise, a rider clinging to his back, the horse in a flat-out run.

Caleb cursed again, more foully this time, and raced back into the barn. Grabbing a bridle off the rack, he hurriedly dragged it over the head of a big bay gelding that was one of the stable's fastest runners and swung up on the animal's back. In seconds, he rode in pursuit of the thief who was making off with Coeur. Somewhere behind him, he heard old Arlie shuffle out of the barn. He was shouting something, but the sound disappeared in the rush of wind and the thunder of the big bay's hooves.

Caleb urged the horse faster, settling into the chase, beginning to enjoy himself, now that he was sure of the outcome. With the horse's long, ground-eating strides, it didn't take long before he spotted the thief in the distance, the figure atop the horse smaller than he had imagined, a village lad, perhaps. One who was about to wish he had never tangled with Caleb Tanner.

Unaware he was being pursued, the youth reined the horse off to the right, riding straight for a low rock wall. Up and over he went, clearing the barrier with ease. Caleb's temper heated as the lad turned the animal to the left and sailed over a wide, meandering stream, then leaped up the bank on the opposite side, startling a hedgehog out of its burrow.

The horse could jump. Caleb had never seen such power in motion, such fluid grace. And he wasn't about to lose such a magnificent beast to the likes of some village miscreant. His jaw tightened, his anger building by the moment. Caleb gained a little more ground but the lad still didn't spot him. Or if he did, he was cocky enough to believe he could get away.

Horse and rider pounded on, Caleb in determined pursuit. The pair would soon reach the end of the field where a high rock wall separated the lower pasture from the one above. Caleb swore and urged the bay faster as he realized the lad's intent. The obstacle would pose a difficult hazard for even the most skillful rider. The horse could be injured—both of them could be killed. The boy seemed not to care.

Caleb's hands tightened on the reins as horse and rider approached the wall, and for an instant the breath froze in his lungs. If the boy brought harm to the horse, Caleb vowed, he would personally thrash the little thief within an inch of his reckless life!

To his relief and amazement, the pair sailed over the wall with absolute precision and made an impeccable landing on the opposite side.

That's it, boyo, your luck has just run out. Caleb's fury was so great he could feel it burning into the back of his neck. Reining away from the wall, he urged the bay along a path that led him through a copse of trees, a line that would cut off the youth's anticipated route of escape.

Watching through the trees as the lad took several more hazards, Caleb began to think perhaps the young man hadn't meant to steal the horse, but had merely taken him out for the pleasure of a wild morning ride. Either way, there was going to be hell to pay and the boy was about to pay it.


Lee glanced behind her, her body shaking with laughter. Tanner was gone. She had lost him. She couldn't remember having this much fun in years. It had taken less than an instant to recognize the tall figure with the wide shoulders mounted on the bay, riding like fury behind her. From the start, she had led him a merry chase. Another rider would have been hard-pressed to follow, but Tanner had stayed right on her tail. She had to give him credit. The man was a magnificent horseman.