The earl's desire

PRACHAN PRESS The Earl’s Desire (The Rogue Series: Book 1) Alexia Praks Copyright © 2014 by Alexia Praks All Rights Reserved This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This book was self-published by the author Alexia Praks under Prachan Press. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without agreement and written permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

The author can be reached at: www.alexiapraks.com Published worldwide by Prachan Press

The Earl’s Desire The Rogue Series: Book One

ALEXIA ALEXIA PRAKS PRAKS

ONE England, 1809 Christine Smith tugged her torn coat over her tiny frame to protect herself against the bitter wind. It didn’t help, and she wondered how much longer she’d last before she collapsed just like some of the children working in the factory. It was only because she was older than most that she was able to endure these harsh conditions. She was considered an adult, after all, at this age of eighteen. Yet in this male outfit with her thick brown tresses securely bound and hidden under a cap, she could pass as a fourteen-yearold boy. Of course, that was the effect her grandparents wanted. They wanted her to be inconspicuous. They wanted her to blend into the background. They wanted her to live her life without trouble. But was her life really trouble-free? When they were always starving and cold?

And especially when she was so stubborn and getting herself into different kinds of trouble?

From the distance, Christine watched the deformed shadows of men, women, and children stagger past, their bodies huddling together to keep the flurry of icy, sharp air at bay. Their chattering voices were almost incoherent in the howling wind, some cursing the foul weather, some moaning about the low state of their pay, and others

groaning about the lack of food for their many starving children. They were exhausted after their long day of hard labor, as was she. The thought of sitting by the fireplace with her family, her feet up with a bowl of soup and a piece of bread for supper, was heavenly.

“You there!” a voice barked. “Come ’ere!”

Christine jumped at the familiar order. Mr. Brad, the owner of the vase factory, was standing not too far away and was shouting at someone. Curious, she glanced behind her. When she saw no one there, she turned back to look at him in confusion.

“Take that vase to the storeroom.”

That was when it sank in. He was barking orders at her. She glanced at the big vase sitting on a two-wheeled cart and then looked over at the departing workers. “But, sir—” “You ain’t getting paid to argue. You be careful with it. ’Tis expensive,” he warned, his callous voice echoing for half the town to hear and causing the workers, especially the children, to shudder with fear. Aye, they all knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to use his whip at the slightest disobedience. In fact, he enjoyed using his beloved weapon regardless because of the surge of power it brought him.

Christine glanced at the tall Wedgwood vase in the gloom and knew Mr. Brad had been to London again and would have bought that vase for one purpose only—to copy the design. He had done that many times before, providing his ignorant customers with cheaper versions of the beautifully designed vase and tableware and, of course, making huge profits in the process.

“Get on with it,” the man snapped and whacked his thick, black cane on her behind.

Christine gritted her teeth—not at the intense pain

that hateful cane had caused but at the way he was treating her. The bastard, she thought. One day she’d bash his face in. No one had the right to treat other people like that.

For a moment she stood her ground, refusing to do as she was told. It was, after all, the end of her shift, and everyone had already gone home.

“What are you waiting for?” he queried, his face red. “You want another whipping?”

Oh God, how she wanted to really bash his face in.

A dangerous desire that, she thought, especially in her lowly circumstance. She needed this job to keep her family from starving, after all. And the bastard knew that and had taken advantage of it.

She turned to the cart. Goodness, there was no way that cart was going to get through the narrow alleyway leading to the factory. She would somehow have to carry the damn, useless thing. Aye, it was a damn, useless thing, all right, for although it cost more than her life, it was still useless, just sitting there in someone’s home, looking awfully pretty for the eyes.

As she visualized the procedure of delivering that important package from this side of the narrow alleyway to the other, the snow-covered path seemed to stretch farther, her destination becoming dim and far beyond her reach.

She swallowed and turned her attention to the urn. She bent her knees and with a heavy grunt, lifted it up. The thing weighed a ton, and it nearly crushed her to the ground, scrawny as she was. Gritting her teeth, she told herself that the sooner she finished this, the sooner she could go home.

She started to stumble forward. Her tattered boots were soaking wet from the snow, and her feet were frozen.

If she could somehow manage to complete the task without putting a scratch on the urn, what with her shivering like a

drowned kitten. If anything went wrong, she’d get the sack.

That was something she couldn’t afford.

Her tired body ached everywhere, and the tiny pieces of oatcake deemed suitable for factory workers didn’t fill even her miniature stomach. Some of the children didn’t even get theirs today because they had run out. Ran out, her backside! Christine knew for certain that Mr. Brad’s wife, a fat woman with fiery red hair and too many freckles to count on her plump face, was scrimping expenses she deemed unnecessary again, and providing oatcakes for workers was deemed one of those expenses indeed.

As if she hadn’t suffered enough thus far, Christine slipped on a patch of icy concrete and tumbled over. Her backside hit the ground.

Thump!

The vase shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.

She closed her eyes and cursed fluently. She wished with all her heart that it was a nightmare. But no nightmare would be as painful as what she was about to experience next. The noise, she was sure, would have reached Mr. Brad’s sharp ears.

On cue, Mr. Brad appeared. His eyes flared when he saw Christine sprawled on the ground with pieces of china everywhere. He marched toward her, his ears bright red with fury.

He growled, yanked her up, punched her face— which she expected—and hurled her against the sidewall— she expected that one, too.

She smacked into the brick barrier and toppled to the ground. Her cape tumbled from her head, releasing a mass of haphazardly cut, short brown curls. Oh, my dear Lord! She was sore.

“You broke it!” he shouted, pointing a porky finger

at her. “I’ve had enough of your silliness. D’you know how much that vase cost? I told you to be careful with it!”

Christine looked at Mr. Brad, tears in her eyes. Fear loomed close around her, suffocating her. She knew it was coming. The whipping and then—oh God! She was going to die for sure. Who was going to look after the family if she were to die now?

“Todd!” Mr. Brad shouted.

The thin, pale foreman appeared from the doorway of the factory.

“Get me the strap,” he ordered.

“With pleasure,” Todd said, an evil glint in his eyes.

“I’ll teach you a lesson. I should never have hired the likes of you.” The obese man spat.

Christine managed to sit up. “Sir, please,” she began.

“Why didn’t you think about what you were doing before you started?” Mr. Brad sneered. “Todd, where the hell’s the strap?”

Todd returned and tossed the strap to his boss.

Laughter rumbled from within Mr. Brad’s throat. He moved to grab her arm, but Christine scurried to the corner of the wall.

“You dare to disobey me order? You scum! Todd, help me here,” the man shouted as he tried to hold on to Christine, who began furiously kicking out at him.

Todd caught Christine’s arm and shoved her to the ground, facedown, and planted a boot on her back. Mr. Brad raised the strap and slashed it down, Todd removing his foot just in time. The swishing sound echoed in the hushed, dark night. The first strike whacked on the thin coat and sliced through skin. Blood seeped out and soaked the dirt-stained coat.

“This’ll teach your stubborn spirit to obey when you’re supposed to.” Mr. Brad sneered and let the strap slash the small back again. The next strike was sharper, more forceful. Then the next, and the next, and more, and more—swish—swish—swish!

Christine did not make a sound as tears rolled down her pale cheeks, tasting salty in her mouth. She closed her eyes at the sheer pain that burnt her skin like hot iron. This was it. She knew she was going to die, and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Mr. Brad raised the whip once more in midair. As he was ready to swing it down, a smile formed on his red face for he felt power surging in his blood. The whip was an inch away from striking Christine’s back when he felt an iron hand crushing his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

Pain—a sort of sensation Mr. Brad had inflicted on others but had never experienced himself—shot through his arm with a powerful force that made him feel sick, and he wanted to cry. He twisted around, angry with whoever had the guts to interfere and, in the process, hurt him.

He came to face a shadow wall of overcoat. When he bent his head back and looked up, he could only make out the silhouette of a tall, well-built man. In the gloom, he didn’t see the murderous fury inside those eyes that were glaring down at him, nor did he notice the elegant, well-cut trousers and overcoat or the artfully arranged cravat on the stranger’s person. He did, however, feel terror charging along his spine, lost for a moment as he stared at the gigantic shadow before him. When he shook his senses free from the momentary fear this giant of a man had given him, he started to shove back, expecting the man to fall.

The giant didn’t budge, however, and remained standing solid as a rock.

Angry because he couldn’t intimidate the stranger,

Mr. Brad yelled, “What’s this?” and shoved him again.

The stranger didn’t move.

“Hey, ’tis none of yer business, so leave. I’m teaching that brat a lesson. If you won’t leave, I’ll do the same to you, you hear? And sack you, too!”

“I do believe there are other ways to teach that child a lesson,” the stranger retorted coldly, shoving Mr. Brad back. “’Tis not your business, so leave it be.” He pointed his thick finger at Christine on the ground. His knees were shaking, and all because there was a devil of a big worker standing up to him. “This brat destroyed one of me precious and most expensive vases. He’s just a slum kid. No use in this world. A nuisance!”

“This is no way to teach that boy a lesson, do you hear?” the stranger said in a low, heated voice. “Not flogging. Especially not flogging.”

“It’s none of your business!” Mr. Brad shouted.

Then, ignoring the stranger, he turned to the body on the ground and raised his strap again.

In a flash of shadows, Mr. Brad was seized by the arm and swung around, and a manly knuckle flew forward and smashed his face. His heavy body slammed against the wall and then crashed to the ground next to Christine. At once, Todd rolled up his sleeves and marched toward the stranger.

“Behind you!” someone shouted from within the darkness.

The stranger twisted and ducked low, slipped around to Todd’s back, got him by the arm and punched him hard in the face. The skinny man fell to the ground, unconscious. Satisfied, the stranger turned toward the ragged form on the ground. He pulled the body up and gruffly said, “You all right, boy?”

Christine, awed at the sight before her, nodded. He smashed Mr. Brad’s face! She couldn’t believe it! He had done it! And he had saved her life.

She struggled to her feet and was about to say thank you when her knees gave out and she collapsed to the ground again.

In a second flat, the stranger caught her in his strong, powerful arms.

He was so very warm and so very wonderful, Christine thought, and she just wanted to close her eyes and stay in his arms forever. He smelt beautiful, too—of earth and pinewood and something else. Spice? He smelt delicious. Her stomach growled. Aye, she was hungry.

Mr. Brad at this moment regained his senses, scrambled up, and barked, “What in hell d’you think you’re doing?”

“Saving a boy you are trying to kill,” the stranger snapped.

“Like I said, ’tis none of your business. That bastard destroyed me vase, and he can't pay for it,” he shouted.

“How much was the vase?”

“Twenty pounds,” he snapped and took a heavy breath. “You see? That bastard couldn’t pay for me vase if he worked for the rest of ’is life. And the same goes for you!” His small eyes flared as he howled, “You’re fired! You hear? You’re fired!”

“I don’t give a damn because I don’t work for you,” the stranger retorted.

Mr. Brad’s mouth hung open for a second in confusion before he recovered himself. “That brat broke me vase. I’ll kill ’im if it pleases me to.”

The stranger glanced at Christine for a split second and turned his attention to the manager. “What’s your

name? So I can pay you.”

Christine snapped her head up to look at her savior.

Her already-pale face turned even paler with horror. All that she could see of him, however, was the shadow of his strong features that, despite this dim light, she rather liked—a lot.

“Are you serious?” Mr. Brad stammered for he knew no one living in this town was as rich as he was.

“Does it look like I’m joking?” the stranger said in irritation.

“No.” Mr. Brad smiled greedily.

“Jacob, my satchel.”

Mr. Brad looked confusedly around him in the darkness. At first he saw no one, but then a shadow of a man appeared with a black leather bag.

The stranger retrieved a wad of pound notes and a heap of sovereigns while Mr. Brad stared as though his very life depended on them. Mr. Brad snatched the pile when the stranger handed it to him and moved to the window to catch light from inside the building. There he started counting the notes and golden coins to make sure they added up to the sum he wanted. His eyes flared with greed when he saw there was extra money—over double the twenty pounds he’d demanded.

“The rest is for the release of this boy from the contract you made him sign. He is no longer your property, nor will he work for you further. You have no rights from this moment forward in any way over the boy.”

“My lord, ’tis getting late,” Jacob said.

Mr. Brad snapped his head up and widened his eyes. “My lord?” he mumbled, and his body shook with uncontrollable cowardice.

Jacob said, “Aye, he is his lordship, the Earl of Huntingdon.”

Mr. Brad, paralyzed for only a moment at hearing this powerful title, rushed forward and started to mumble some apology. The earl, however, did not pay any attention to him. He was aware that the youth was getting weaker and leaning farther onto him. Looking down, he noted that the boy had fainted. He picked his survivor up in his arms and carried him toward the barouche. *** Merrick William Hasting, the fourteenth Earl of Huntingdon, glanced at the youth lying unconscious on the seat opposite him. The scrawny boy looked malnourished and very dirty, which did not repulse the earl as it would many of his peers. On the contrary, he accepted the youth lying across from him for what he was and pitied the boy with his whole heart. He detested mistreatment toward children, especially in factories, and he could not stand by and watch any child receive abuse. He had, in fact, saved many children from the streets and workhouses.

He and his good friend Maximilian Devilyn, the Duke of Lynwood, had a house built especially for them in the country just north of London.

Merrick took out his handkerchief and cleaned the youth’s face, scrubbing around the cheek and working up toward the forehead. He noted that the boy was starting to regain consciousness.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, wiping the dirt from under the boy’s chin.

Christine blinked and looked around the interior of the carriage in confusion. The world was spinning, which caused her to feel nauseated. She closed her eyes again to gain her composure. A short moment later, she felt better and lifted her eyelids. She gazed at her savior long and

hard. He had dark brown hair that curled at the nape of his muscular neck. His face was strong and very handsome with a straight nose, firm lips, and eyes that were teal blue.

Her heart of its own accord started to beat fast. Her body too started to feel warm and weak. It was not the type of weak that one felt when one was exhausted from overwork or from being beaten almost to death but a different type of weak that was rather pleasant.

Merrick sat back and studied her, his eyes sharp as he took in everything. He noted the violet eyes, the straight nose, the generous lips, and the small chin. Despite the thick smudges of dirt on top of that face, Merrick decided that the boy was pretty. Surely it was very odd indeed for a boy to be pretty.

He cleared his throat and asked, “What’s your name?”

There was a moment of hesitation, and then came the weak reply in a voice that Merrick thought didn’t sound at all like a young boy, “Chris, sir.” The voice was too soft, too feminine, and far too pleasant to belong to a kid in the slum of Hamming.

“Where is your home, Chris? Do you have one? I want to make sure you get there safely and see that your parents are taking good care of you.”

Christine decided that his eyes were too intense on her face, and her heart started to do a series of somersaults because of it. She lowered her eyes and told her heart to calm down. He was only asking her a question, after all.

With a small voice she squeaked out, “In the country, sir. ’Tis very far, sir. You can drop me off here. I’ll walk home.”

Merrick narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be a fool! You’d faint even before you could take a step.”

He was right, of course, and she shoved her face

against the emerald-green cushion to avoid eye contact with him, her body curled up into a ball.

Merrick saw that she was shivering in her ball form and wondered if it was from the cold. He took his long overcoat off and gently wrapped it around her.

Christine gasped the moment she felt his warm hand brushing against the side of her face as he laid the thick wool coat over her. This caused her insides to shudder pleasantly, and a sigh escaped her lips.

Merrick noted that she was still shivering and wondered if his coat was enough to ward off the cold.

Without further ado—and not caring that the blood and dirt-stained Christine would soil him in any way—he picked her slight body up from the seat and dumped her onto his lap.

Christine stopped breathing for a split second the moment she found herself on her savior’s lap, her head against the wall of his hard chest and her body embraced within his strong arms. She glanced up to see the handsome man smiling at her, his teal-blue eyes twinkling.

“Look, I’m taking you to your home, is that clear?” he said with a no-nonsense tone of voice. “When I want something done, something I consider to be right, I expect it to be done. Do you understand?”

Christine bit her lip, wondering why this man would go to such lengths to help her. She didn’t know these people existed. Didn’t these wealthy nobilities only care about themselves?

“Sir.” She licked her lips as she thought about how she should proceed. This, of course, drew Merrick’s attention. The lips were pale and dry as dust, and yet why they fascinated him so he didn’t know.

“You’re very kind. I don’t know how to repay you that money, but I assure you that I will repay you.”

The lips trembled in the most delicate way. Merrick watched in fascination at the anger and frustration playing in those eyes that were brewing with tears.

“Chris, you don’t have to repay me.”

“But that money you gave Mr. Brad is ever so much.”

“It’s not much to me.”

Christine just stared at him.

“I want no repayment.”

“It’s charity,” she said.

“It’s a gift.”

A gift? Nobody had given her a gift before. She lowered her eyes and said, “But we don’t know each other.”

“We do now,” Merrick replied promptly.

Christine chewed her lip in contemplation for a moment. This was, after all, hard to believe. Then, as if she had come to a conclusion, she said, “Then how will I ever thank you?”

Merrick couldn’t seem to quit gazing into those amazing violet eyes. They drew him in as though he had no control over his own mind. He blinked, looked away, and said, “A thank-you will suffice, Chris.”

“Oh,” was Christine’s reply. Then she said, “But I will repay you. It is not in my nature to only take. I must give back. Perhaps not in money but in other ways. Perhaps one day you may want something from me, anything at all.

Will you promise to ask me for it? Whatever it is that you may want?”

She wouldn’t quit gazing at him until he reluctantly agreed with a nod of his head. Satisfied, she closed her eyes, snuggled her face deeper against his warm chest, and tried very hard to ignore the dull ache along the length of her back. Slowly, with the rocking of the carriage traveling along the country road, she drifted off to sleep.

Merrick found himself watching her sleeping for a while, his arms growing rather numb. He, however, didn’t mind for she wasn’t at all heavy and he rather liked the soft body against his. When he realized that that was indeed very odd, he quit his staring and closed his own eyes for he was himself quite tired from the long journey from London.

Instantly, his mind of its own accord flashed to his beloved wife, Angela, and his son, Frederic.

Dead! They were both dead—had been dead for two years now—leaving him all alone in this world. The pain—it was truly unbearable at times, and it was piercing his heart now, twisting and burning.

He gritted his teeth and flashed eyes open.

Violet eyes were gazing up at him. “Are you in pain?” the soft voice whispered. “You have a wound?”

Merrick scowled, his body stiffened. Suddenly, he felt a cold hand touching the side of his face as if to soothe him of his torment.

“The wound, it will heal,” Christine said, smiling up at him.

Something happened that Merrick did not expect.

The pain within his heart was slowly fading and being replaced with a warm sensation that was spreading across his chest.

Christine saw his face soften, closed her eyes, and fell back to sleep.

Merrick stared long and hard at the youth in his arms. Slowly, he smiled. It was a very handsome smile that would have caught much attention from the ladies.

Automatically, he brushed the back of his knuckles across Christine’s cheek.

“Aye, I agree. It will heal,” he whispered softly under his breath and then closed his eyes.

An hour later, Jacob, the coach master, jumped down from the driver’s seat and opened the carriage door.

Merrick was out in an instant, carrying Christine in his arms. When he turned toward the cottage he saw an old man rushing toward them. Behind him stood a woman and a little boy. The woman dashed to him and started hugging Christine. It was awkward for Merrick, standing there and balancing Christine in his arms as well as trying not to get too involved while the family reunited. Finally, he was led inside.

Their cottage was small, and though Merrick couldn’t quite see in the darkness, he was pretty sure it was also very old and in need of some good maintenance.

Merrick found himself ducking to get through the door and entered a small room. It didn’t contain much— just an old settee, a table, and some chairs near the open fireplace, which was burning brightly and heating a pot of boiling soup that gave out an aroma so very tempting Merrick felt his mouth watering.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” the old man said.

Merrick nodded and glanced at Christine. “The boy has been beaten. He will need a few days of rest to heal.”

“Thank you again, sir,” the elderly man said and added, “My name is Tom Smith, and this is my wife, Elaina Smith, and our foster grandson, Tyson.”

Merrick did not miss the fact that Mr. Smith spoke like the gentry. He wondered if there was something more to this family than what they appeared to be. Smith was certainly a very common name in England.

Merrick introduced himself in return as Merrick Hasting. “’Tis his lordship, the Earl of Huntingdon,” Jacob

hastily put in, as though to remind Merrick he shouldn’t forget his proud heritage of an earldom.

Mr. Smith widened his eyes—in both fear and confusion, Merrick thought, not missing the fact that Mr. Smith stared at his wife for a moment or two. There was some kind of silent communication between them as they looked at each other. They did not look at all comfortable at the mere mention of his title. Perhaps it was just discovering they had a peer of the realm in their house and they didn’t know how to deal with the situation. Or perhaps there was something more.

Mr. Smith was frowning darkly. At last he said awkwardly, “I beg your pardon, my lord.”

“It’s late,” Merrick said and turned toward the door, catching the delectable aroma of soup as he did so.

He paused momentarily and then moved to leave.

“Wait, my lord,” Mr. Smith said quickly. “You must stay. I know ’tis not much in here, but perhaps you would share our food? You and your man must be very hungry.”

“Yes, Grandpapa, they can share our food,” Tyson said. “It’s very nice today, better than other days. We have stew and pumpkin soup, very delicious.” He licked his lips.

Merrick glanced from Mr. Smith to the little boy.

Then unexpectedly there was an embarrassingly loud rumble from his stomach.

“You are very hungry. You’d better eat before you get sick.” Tyson nodded his silver-blond head at his good judgment.

Merrick smiled. He glanced at Christine and, oddly enough, felt happy. Why, he didn’t quite know, and he didn’t question it for his hunger demanded more of his attention.

“Very well, we shall stay.” He nodded at Jacob.

Mr. Smith said, flustered, “I am sorry, but we don’t have much here.” He turned to his wife. “Dear, Tyson, you two start serving his lordship. I’ll take Chris up to his room.”

They went to do his bidding, and Jacob offered his help.

Merrick saw that Mr. Smith was trying to help Christine up, and in two strides he was beside the worn settee and lifting her up in his arms. “Where is his room?” he asked.

“My lord, you know you don’t have to do that,” Mr. Smith protested.

He sounded irritated, Merrick thought. Why? He should be thankful for his help. Perhaps he thought that since he was an earl such work was beneath him. Most peers would agree with him—they’d never enter a place such as this and do what he was doing now.

He said, “I think your grandson is very tired, and he probably needs a good wash, food, and then sleep.”

Mr. Smith had to agree with that. “This way, please,” he said and walked out the door. “This room here,” he said a few moments later.

The room was very small, with a bed on each side.

Mr. Smith led him to one, and he gently laid Christine down. He knew the wound hurt her, so he tried to do it as gently as possible.

“You should go down, my lord, to have dinner.

You are hungry,” Mr. Smith said.

At the door Merrick turned once more to look at Christine. She gave him a smile. He nodded in response, rotated on his heels, and headed down the stairs.

The food was simple but a good, hearty meal. He enjoyed his unexpected supper and smiled contentedly. He saw that Jacob too was happy now that his stomach was

filled. A while later they took their leave.

At the barouche, Merrick gave Mr. Smith some money to tide them over. At first the old man refused profoundly, but when Merrick pointed out they’d need it for medical care and to buy food, the man finally accepted the help, showering the young man with blessings of good fortune.

“Sir, sir!”

Merrick turned to see Tyson calling him.

“I thank you for saving my sis—huh!” He clasped his mouth with both hands to shut himself up. Then he lowered his face and looked at his dirty boots. “Um, brother and for bringing him home,” he mumbled.

Merrick chuckled and tousled his hair. “Look after him well, won’t you?”

Little Tyson looked up, his eyes large and twinkling as he gazed at the great man. “Oh, I will. Don’t you worry,” he said, smiling.

TWO Christine’s delicate, shapely back jerked as it was bathed clean with steaming hot water. Mrs. Smith stared long and hard at the hot red wounds crisscrossing along the length of the slender back. She could almost hear the slashing sound of the strap striking.

“There, ’tis done,” she said as she helped Christine turn over. “Oh, dear,” she muttered.

Christine felt pain within her heart as she watched tears flowing down her beloved grandmother’s cheeks.

Already, the woman had suffered enough through her life of hardship. Why Christine had gone and gotten herself beaten, which added more burden on her grandmother, was beyond her. She felt so awful that she wanted to throw up.

“Grandmamma,” she began, her voice shaky, “I’m so sorry, and really, I’m all right.”

“No, my dear, you are not all right. We shouldn’t have let you take on that job,” Mrs. Smith muttered, shaking her head.

“Grandmamma, please don’t cry. You know Grandpapa is getting too old and can’t find enough money to keep us all,” Christine said logically.

“Why did I ever allow this to happen to you?” the woman muttered, arranging the blanket around the girl as

she got into bed.

“Grandmamma?” Christine said hesitantly. “I… I will have to find another job.”

Mrs. Smith frowned. “My dear, let your grandfather find the work.”

“But Grandpa is too old, and he has done enough for me. ’Tis up to me to support the family,” Christine said.

“My love,” Mrs. Smith protested. “It has been five years. You must stop. What if somebody found out you’re a girl. I couldn’t stand that. They might do something terrible to you. I won’t allow it,” she muttered, shaking her head in disgust.

“Don’t worry, I will be fine. Nobody will find out, and if someone did, what could any of them do to me except beat me? And after all, I’ve managed to survive this last one and several others before.”

“I don’t want you to do any more men’s work.

Perhaps if you could find women’s work to do,” the grandmother suggested.

“It would make it too easy for them to find us. You said yourself I look too much like Mama. They’d recognize me, wouldn’t they?”

“Oh!” Mrs. Smith sighed. “There is no hope, is there?”

“Grandmamma, I will be very careful.” Christine reached for Mrs. Smith’s hand. “It’ll work out.”

She yawned, and her grandmother sighed. “’Tis getting late and you must rest. We’ll talk of it another day.”

She kissed her granddaughter’s forehead and snuffed out the candle, Christine falling asleep even before the door was closed.

Mrs. Smith walked into her bedroom and stared at her husband’s sleeping form. He looked very peaceful, and

she wished she could feel the same. With a heavy heart, she sat on the edge of the bed and gazed out the window at the crescent moon. She tried not to think about the past because it was too painful. She knew they were safe for now. But for how much longer? ***

Her surroundings were hazy, as though she were in a dream. Christine fluttered her eyes open and tried to think where she was. Blank. Nothing. Then she realized that she wasn’t sleeping in her own bed. Shifting her gaze to her right, she saw a single slit of light coming from somewhere.

Squinting to adjust to the darkness of her surroundings, she scanned around and caught sight of the beautifully embroidered twin peacocks on the blanket. It’s beautiful, she thought, nothing like she had ever seen before. She gazed long and hard at it, admiring it, memorizing the picture within her mind.

A shadow moved, drawing her attention. She narrowed her eyes at the silhouette. That was when she saw it advancing toward her slowly. She realized it was of a man, strong and powerful, and oddly enough, she did not feel threaten by him. Rather, she was curious.

He stopped at the side of the bed. She blinked, and her heart started to dance fast within her chest. She could feel him looking at her, as if he was assessing her, feasting upon the sight of her.

Suddenly, he was beside her on the bed, and that was when Christine panicked. She tried to get up and run but couldn’t. Her mouth opened to scream for help, but no sound came out. What was going on? Why couldn’t she move? She fought to get out of the bed and run for her life.

At last she was free, but as she prepared to jump, a

large, strong hand seized her arm. She was swung around roughly, and her face hit against a massive, hard chest.

Before she had time to struggle, she was back on the bed, her head resting on the soft pillow and the weight of a man on top of her.

He lowered his head toward her, though she couldn’t see anything of his face. This man was so powerful; she didn’t have the strength to fight him. And she didn’t want to fight him at all. His head continued to her neck. His hand came down to her breasts. He captured one in his large hand and squeezed it.

She went still, her head spun, and something down in the pit of her womanhood awakened.

“No,” she whispered. Why did she say that, she wondered stupidly.

The shadowy giant lifted his head up. Though it was very dark, and she couldn’t see anything of him, she could sense him staring down at her.

He whispered near her ear, “You’ll be mine soon.”

She trembled weakly, listening to him laughing at her, though she couldn’t hear any sound at all.

He kissed her. She shook her head, discouraging him. He was persistent, forcing her lips to open. Scared, she started to kick and scream for help. She struggled to get free, screaming again and again.

“No, let go. Help!”

“Christine! Christine!”

“Help!” she shouted.

“Christine! Wake up, Christine!”

She opened her eyes and saw the shadowy figure of a boy’s face above her.

“Tyson!” she cried, her voice shaking with terror.

She shot up and hugged him, looking around wildly for the big man, but he was nowhere in the room. As her heart

slowed its furious beating, she realized it had only been a nightmare.

It had seemed very real though.

“What was it, Christine? What happened?” the boy asked in concern.

Christine tried to calm herself down. She shut her eyes for a moment and breathed in and out slowly. “It was nothing important, Tyson,” she said, looking at her adopted brother now. “It was just a nightmare.”

Tyson peered at her pale face. “You don’t look well.

Was it that bad?”

“Was what that bad?” she asked in confusion.

“The beating. It must have been if you’re having nightmares because of it. Well, I’ll show him—I’ll beat him back one day.”

Christine blushed, embarrassed because her nightmare actually had nothing to do with the beating. Or

did it?

“Did I wake you?” She changed the subject.

“Yes, you were screaming for help. I don’t think you woke Grandmamma and Grandpapa though—they’re a bit deaf. And anyway, your screaming wasn’t that loud.

You sounded more like you were crying or something.”

“I’m sorry I woke you, but I’m glad no one else woke up. Look, it’s still dark. You should go back to sleep now.”

Tyson didn’t move. He peered closer, searching her flushed face. “Did he beat you again in your dream? Is that why you cried for help?”

Christine just sat there, staring at him, dumbfounded. Well, what could she tell him? He wouldn’t understand she had actually dreamt that a big man was doing things to her that even she couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Well?” he probed.

“I assure you, it was just a nightmare, Tyson.”

He gave her a look that told her he didn’t believe her one tiny bit.

“You go back to bed. I’ll be just fine, and if I am in trouble, I’ll just ask you—how about that?”

Tyson considered this for a few seconds and then nodded for he was getting rather tired. He moved back to his small bed. Christine sighed, and then she snuggled back beneath her blanket.

Dear God, that nightmare still shook her. At least it was just a nightmare and not the real thing. Thank God! A few minutes later, she went back to sleep. This time, though, there was no nightmare, but a deep voice echoed in her thoughts: “You’ll be mine soon, very soon.” *** Christine’s grandparents forced her to stay in bed for the next week. She found it rather hard to cope for she was usually a very active person, and staying in bed simply bored her to tears, and, more importantly, it gave her too much time to think. Most of the time she’d start thinking about the dream, and she didn’t want to think about it at all because it unsettled her. She kept having it every night, though not always the same one. She had decided that it must be due to the beating.

The dream always started with him—this giant shadow of a man. He either cornered her or chased her, and when he captured her, he started touching her— everywhere—and then he started kissing her, too. She didn’t understand what it meant, but she knew that she was scared, and she was sure it would be very unpleasant if it was real.

It was morning, and she had just woken up from the dream again, though she had not screamed like she did that first time. It had been a week since the beating, and Christine knew that her wound had been healing nicely.

She had high hopes that because her wound was healing her dream too would stop. They were related, after all.

She got up from the bed and slowly got dressed in her shabby breeches that had seen better days, the once snow-white shirt that now had turned a muddy color, and her one and only gray coat. Tying her curls at the nape with a thread of string, she made her way down the old, creaky stairs. As she landed on the last step, a voice said, “You shouldn’t be up and about, my dear. You are not yet well.”

Christine knew her grandmother would say that, but she knew also that if she were to stay in bed another minute, she’d simply die of boredom. So she squared her shoulders and said, as she stepped into the room that served as both the kitchen and family room, “I know you worry, Grandmamma, but I—” She stopped short and stared at the handsome man sitting on the seat near the hearth. At night a week ago, she couldn’t see clearly what he had really looked like, but in daylight this man was simply too gorgeous for words. She could not seem to breathe at all as she stood there, staring at him in shock.

“Good morning, Chris,” came the deep voice.

Christine couldn’t help herself and shivered all over. She licked her lips, blinked twice, and said, “My lord?”

“How is your wound, boy?” Merrick asked, his eyes warm as he watched her walk slowly into the room.

Christine was very aware that he was examining her person—that her feet were bare and that she didn’t have

her binding around her upper torso truly worried her. At least, she thought, she had her coat on, which helped a great deal to hide her femininity, and furthermore her breasts were not that bountiful, as her grandmother had said to her before when they had started to mature.

As if his eyes didn’t humiliate her enough, he said, “Do you not have socks? You will catch your death of cold in this weather if you do not wear socks.”

“Do come here near the fire, my dear,” Mr. Smith said.

“I’ll go up and get the socks,” Tyson volunteered and then dashed out the room.

Christine came to stand near the hearth and rubbed her hands to get some warmth. Blushing, she turned to look at Merrick and said, “What are you doing here, my lord?”

One shapely dark brow raised as the teal-blue eyes looked at her. “I would see how the boy I’ve saved from a beating is doing,” came the reply.

Christine’s blush deepened. She clamped her lips together and lowered her eyes.

Merrick did not miss the cute dimple on the side of the left cheek. He looked down to the bare feet again.

Small and very delicate, they were by now turning purple from the cold. He liked the small feet, he thought. He looked back to the face.

“Come sit down here, boy,” he said, patting the seat next to him.

Christine obeyed the gentle command and came to sit beside him on the settee; her small frame appeared to have been swallowed up by his large one. He turned his torso slightly toward her and rested one arm over the settee just behind her head. Christine stared up at him and felt a sense of fright with him sitting so close to her. The feeling

was oddly familiar.

She tried very hard to ignore him and stared at the fire instead. Mr. and Mrs. Smith looked at each other and then at Merrick as the awkward silence lengthened, but Merrick didn’t seemed to be aware of its existence.

“I’ve got the socks,” Tyson announced as he rushed back into the room.

Christine sighed with relief and was glad that she had something to do. She took the thick, woolen socks Tyson gave to her and put them on. Merrick was watching her as she did so.

Mr. Smith cleared his throat and said, “I thank you, my lord, for saving us once again.”

Christine eyed her grandfather and asked, “What happened, Grandpapa?”

Mr. Smith glanced nervously at his wife. Christine knew he thought he should have kept his mouth shut instead of blurting it out in front of her like that. But she was persistent and said, “Was there something that you didn’t tell me?”

Here was another silent communication between them, Merrick thought, as he watched husband and wife.

Then Mrs. Smith said, “Mr. Barlow came this morning.”

“Did we not have enough?” Christine asked.

Merrick was amused. The boy already knew that they had been dealing with the landlord who was ready to throw them out due to the late payment this morning.

“No, my dear,” Mr. Smith said. “Not enough at all.

In fact, I’m not sure how to deal with next month if—” “I’ll find a job, Grandpa,” Christine said.

Merrick couldn’t help butting in. “And get yourself sick again?”

Christine looked at him. “We don’t have any choice, my lord. In fact, are you in need of a servant up at

your house?”

Merrick knew it was coming, and he had been prepared for it. Sooner or later, Chris would have to find a job to support his family. He leaned back and said, “No.” He saw the pale face fall immediately.

“My lord,” Mrs. Smith began, “We will not bother you with our family problems.”

“Actually,” Merrick said, “I have a proposition for you, Mr. Smith.”

Christine looked up, her eyes bright with expectation.

Mr. Smith said, “A proposition for me, my lord?”

“You mentioned before that you used to raise and train hounds?”

Mr. Smith nodded.

“I have a cottage down at Huntingdon Estate near the river. It has been neglected for some time and, come to think of it, so have my hounds.” He turned to Tyson. “Do you like dogs, Tyson?”

Tyson nodded his head enthusiastically.

“How about it, Mr. Smith?” Merrick asked. “I would need them trained for next summer for hunting.”

Mr. Smith said, “Your hounds keeper, my lord?”

Christine couldn’t help but laugh with delight.

Merrick turned to look at her, the sweetness of her laughter singing in his ears.

Mrs. Smith caught hold of Mr. Smith’s hand and clutched onto it. “My lord, this cottage—it is far from your Huntingdon Hall?”

Merrick knew the woman was worried, though about what he didn’t know. “Yes, it is quite far. In fact, it is tucked deep in the woods near the river.”

She seemed to be satisfied with this, and Mr. Smith said, “Thank you, my lord. When shall we start?”

“How marvelous,” Christine said to Tyson, who was jumping with joy. “Near the river, and we get to raise hounds.”

“Not you, I’m afraid,” Merrick said.

Christine stopped her laughing immediately and looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You will come up and live with me at Huntingdon Hall,” he said, then turned to the grandparents. “I apologize for not asking sooner. I would like to take Chris to my home and raise him.”

Both Mr. and Mrs. Smith stared at him in shock, then turned to look at each other, clearly worried.

Merrick said hastily, “I assure you I will look after Chris like my own brother. He will not be neglected.

Besides, Huntingdon Hall is only half an hour’s walk away from the cottage. You can visit anytime you want.”

“My lord, I do not think this is a good idea,” Christine said. She knew what her grandparents were thinking. Would she be safe up at the Hall? Would she be exposed to people who might notice her resemblance to her dead mother?

Merrick said, “I do not want to force you, Chris, but do you remember promising that if I ever wanted something of you…?”

“Yes,” Christine said uncertainly. Then it dawned on her, and she knew that she would have to go and live with him up at the Hall because there was no way she would turn back on her word. After all, she had promised to repay him in whatever way he wanted after he had saved her life.

THREE Huntingdon Hall was a massive, four-story building of dark gray stone. Along the front section of the Hall were many long windows that overlooked the grand estate below with hills upon rolling hills.

Christine climbed the large-stoned stairs to the front entrance and knocked on the magnificent door before her. Instantly, it was opened, and an elegant, middle-aged man stared down at her from his majestic height. “May I help you?” he said.

“My name is Chris Smith,” she stated, staring at his spotless livery of white and blue and his neat white wig.

“I’m here to see the Earl of Huntingdon.”

“Ah, young Master Smith. his lordship is expecting you,” the butler said.

A few moments later, the butler showed her into the study, announced her name, and left her there.

Christine stood hesitantly in the middle of the room, watching Merrick, who was sitting behind a huge mahogany desk, his dark head bowed as he wrote in a book.

The silence stretched. She clamped her lips together and nervously looked about the room. It was enormous and beautifully designed. To her left were very tall, wide windows that overlooked the woods to the west of the

estate. The thick red velvet drapes were drawn to each side of the windows, allowing winter light to brighten the room.

On her right were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with hundreds of books, and stairs climbed to a balcony where more books were neatly placed on more shelves.

“Chris!”

She jumped. His tone demanded attention, but his voice caused her blood to sing. She gave him her sweetest smile, hoping it would please him.

“You may sit down on that seat.”

She nodded and scurried toward the elegant chair he’d indicated.

“How are you?” he asked, his eyes roving over her.

“I’m fine,” she replied eagerly.

“And your wound? Has it properly healed yet?”

“Yes, my lord,” she said. “I’m better now. The wound took a long time to heal, but I’m good and healthy now, you see.” She stood up again to her full height and rotated one full turn on her spot, allowing him to inspect her body.

Amused, Merrick nodded for her to sit down again.

“Welcome to Huntingdon Hall. Do you think you’ll be happy here?”

Christine found her throat tight, unable to believe that this was really happening to her.

He laughed. “What’s wrong, Chris? Cat got your tongue?”

She shook her head.

Merrick stared at her lips, now glistening bright red. A nice heat of liquid rushed through his being. He frowned, abruptly got up, and strolled to the far side of the room, where he pulled the bell rope.

She wondered if she’d annoyed him by her silence.

Perhaps he was already regretting that he was now her

guardian. When he returned to his seat, however, he smiled at her and showed nothing of his earlier annoyance. She sighed with relief and told herself that she must be imagining things.

“I’ll get Mrs. Ross, the housekeeper, to show you around,” he started.

She nodded her head again.

“Be careful there—you might break your little neck, and I don’t want to be responsible for that,” he said.

She smiled at his joke.

A moment later, there were three rhythmic knocks at the door.

“Enter!” Merrick called.

The door opened to reveal a plump, elderly woman neatly dressed all in dark gray except for her white, frilly cap, gray hair escaping onto the nape of her neck.

“Mrs. Ross,” Merrick said, “this is Chris Smith.

Please take him to his room, and later on you can show him around the Hall.”

“Of course, my lord,” the plump woman said.

“Come this way, err…”

“Chris, just call me Chris,” Christine said, standing up.

“No, you will not call him Chris, Mrs. Ross. You will call him Master Chris, Master Chris Smith,” Merrick supplied.

“Yes, my lord,” Mrs. Ross said, nodding her head at Merrick.

Christine paused as she joined Mrs. Ross and said with a smile, “Thank you, my lord. You are ever so kind.”

With that, she went into the hallway.

Mrs. Ross took Christine to her bedroom and told her to rest while refreshments were being prepared for her.

Christine, unaccustomed to this kindness and luxury,

nodded mutely. A few minutes later, a maid brought in a tea set on a tray, placed it on the table, curtsied low at Christine, and then left.

“I will leave you to enjoy your refreshment, Master Chris. I will return soon to show you around the Hall,” Mrs. Ross said and left.

Alone again, Christine relaxed for the first time and turned her attention to the tea, her first time tasting it.

About half an hour later, Mrs. Ross reappeared and took her for a tour around the Hall and introduced her to the household staff. By the time this was over, she was exhausted and was very glad indeed to have a bath in a huge hip tub, which she thought very pleasant. She took her time washing herself, enjoying the task tremendously.

Once the water was cold, she reluctantly climbed out and dressed herself. Then she took a stroll about the Hall to familiarize herself with where all the rooms were. When she encountered Merrick’s room, she couldn’t help herself and wandered in.

The master bedroom was very large and elegant, nicely refurbished with thick velvet drapes and upholstery.

A settee and two chairs were positioned near the hearth, and three windows overlooked the garden. On one wall were two portraits. One was of a youth wearing a navy blue riding habit and astride a horse. He was smiling, and he looked very handsome. She wondered who the boy was.

She turned her attention to the other painting. It was of an exquisite woman with blond hair and bright, metallic-gray eyes. Her perfect English-rose complexion made Christine’s heart ache for some reason, and she sighed.

“What are you looking at?”

Christine jumped. “My lord, I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, blushing profoundly.

“Hmm, I came in a few seconds ago,” he said, grinning, and he admitted to himself that he liked observing the youth unnoticed, particularly when he had a dreamlike smile on his face. It amused him vastly, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the little brat.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked.

“I was just exploring,” she replied shyly, wondering if perhaps she had overstepped her boundaries.

“I see,” Merrick commented, noting the blush creeping up those delicate cheeks. “Stop calling me my lord—call me Merrick.”

“But—” “No buts,” he interrupted. “Now, where’s my valet?” He glanced at her confusion and said, “Paris is not very good with time. He has very good eyesight, but he’s very deaf and very forgetful. You’ll know what I mean when you meet him. Damn, I need a bath and to get ready on time for the dinner party.”

“Would you like me to go and find him for you?” she asked helpfully, knowing very well that she’d never find the valet because she did not know what he looked like, and she’d get lost trying to find her way around.

Merrick said, “No. He’ll be here soon enough.”

Christine watched in fascination as he took off his jacket and then undid his cravat. She thought he seemed tired, but still he looked very handsome with his dark hair now in a disheveled state as he raked his fingers through it.

She had the urge to tousle it and make it even messier.

Merrick glanced at her and chuckled. “Perhaps you would like to help?” he asked playfully.

Christine bit her lip shyly and nodded.

“All right, come along then. I’ll show you my wardrobe.” That being said, he grabbed her slender wrist and led her to the bedroom and then to the walk-in

wardrobe.

Christine found that the wardrobe was one big room of its own where his evening outfits were placed in one section, his riding habits next to that, his day outfits in the middle, and his night clothing at the far end.

“Can you remember it all?” he asked once they had completed the tour. “Though you only need to ask if you don’t know.”

She smiled uncertainly and slowly walked around, searching and collecting the items that he needed—with his guidance at times. Once done, she stepped back into the bedroom with Merrick behind. Her eyes caught the massive bed in the middle of the room. The mahogany headboard was elegantly designed with gods and fairies.

Then she looked to the blankets and found herself staring at the embroidery which featured twin peacocks.

Her heart beat so fast she thought it would leap out of her chest. Her stomach felt hollow, and she shivered all over.

“Is everything all right, Chris?” Merrick touched her shoulder.

She nodded, her lips clamped together. “I’m all right,” she reassured herself more than him, clutching the pile of his clothing tightly to her chest.

“I’m going to have my bath,” he said.

When he’d shut the door behind him, she turned back to look at the bed. The room turned uncomfortably silent, though the thumping of her own heartbeat was loud in her ears. She tried not to think of what she had discovered.

There they were, the twin peacocks, in exactly the same design and colors as those in her dreams. She shut her eyes, and the images came to her in full force.

The ghostly figure loomed toward her, suffocating

her. A large, strong hand seized her arm. When she struggled to break free from the imprisonment, his grip became tighter, tearing at her arms. The ghostly man threw her onto the bed and pulled himself on top of her. His hand slid under her arm and imprisoned her there. His head moved toward her face and continued to move down to her neck. His other hand came down to her breasts. He captured one in his hands and squeezed it.

“Chris, my robe!”

Jolted back to reality, she looked around her in confusion, and her hands felt damp. She took a deep breath, rushed into the wardrobe, and looked for the robe.

She found some, quickly grabbed one, and hurried back.

“I’m sorry,” she said, rushing into the sitting room, and then she came to a complete halt. “Oh!” “What took you so long?” Merrick asked.

Christine stood rooted to her spot; her eyes were large as she took it all in—the image of the naked earl.

He came to stand before the hearth with his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind him and the water dripping from his muscular body. His skin was tanned, and his hair was wet, clinging to his handsome face. He looked magnificent, and she found she couldn’t breathe properly.

Suddenly, she felt her own body trembling in response.

She kept staring at him, from his dark head to his face, to his muscular chest and arms, down to his flat stomach, and then she shut her eyes abruptly once she had glimpsed the lower part of his body. She twisted around, blushing.

“Chris, what the hell are you doing?”

Her face turned crimson. “Oh, I… umm,” she muttered.

“What’s the matter? Have you never seen yourself naked before?” he chuckled.

She widened her eyes as she stared at the floor. Yes,

but I’m not as beautiful as you are!

“Come here, boy, and hand me that robe. I’m getting cold.”

“Yes,” she said and rushed to him, her eyes still on the floor. She shoved the robe to him without looking up.

He grabbed it but did not put it on. Instead, he nudged her chin up with his fingers and thumb so she could look at him. “What’s the matter, Chris?”

“Nothing. Are you finished? Do you want me to throw out the bathwater?” she asked nervously, shivering at the way he was staring at her. She thought there was longing in those eyes, a longing so raw that it broke her heart just looking at them.

She broke their eye contact, moved back, placed the pile of his clothing on the settee, and moved toward the bath.

He caught her arm. “The servant can do that. You can help me dress.”

She nodded. He let go of her arm and put on his robe. Thank God, she thought. She really couldn’t handle any more embarrassment.

“Get my towel.”

She grabbed the towel lying on the seat and gave it to him. He took it and started to dry his hair. She watched him, amazed at the ease with which he dried his own hair.

He stopped and looked at her pointedly. “Come here.”

She raised her brows and took a step closer. He handed her the towel. “Dry my hair,” he instructed.

She glanced at the towel in her hands, then tilted her head to look at him. “Right,” she said and shoved the footstool closer to where he stood and climbed up onto it.

“Very clever, Chris,” he chuckled.

“Thank you,” she said and started to dry his hair.

Merrick felt warm sensations rush through his body from head to toe as she gently dried his hair. He shut his eyes and felt quite content. It surprised him because the usual emptiness wasn’t here.

“There, it’s dried,” she said.

He walked over to the table, took the brush, and handed it to her. “Brush my hair.”

She grabbed the brush and started to stroke the strands of his hair through her fingers. It was soft and wavy. She smiled and was puzzled at why she was so happy just touching his hair. Once she’d combed the strands until they were smooth and out of tangles, she jumped down and looked at her handiwork.

“Bring my clothing and help me dress,” he instructed.

“Yes,” she said and handed his shirt to him. He untied his robe, took it off, and dropped it onto the carpet around his feet.

“Huh!” She turned a bright shade of pink and twisted around so that she could not see him.

He laughed. “Just wait for a few more years, then you’ll look very much like I do. Actually, I’ll have to teach you some sports. How do you feel about boxing, lad? To build up those puny muscles of yours? Now, turn round so you can help me dress.”

“I am very discreet about my… umm… appearance. I’m not that puny, if you must know. I especially don’t like other people seeing me naked and the other way around. It is said to be shameful to see other people naked,” she mumbled. Yet she knew she liked looking at his naked body. He was so beautiful.

“Ah, yes. That explains your discomfort earlier.

Does it run in your family? I apologize, Chris. However, I

am serious about those puny muscles of yours. Far too tiny, I assure you. I don’t remember I was that small when I was fourteen,” he said as he stared at her slim back.

She turned to him, her eyes twinkling. She wasn’t going to tell him that she was actually eighteen years old and not fourteen as he thought she was.

Merrick gazed at her long and hard. He suddenly had the urge to kiss her. What the hell! He shook his head at the stupid notion and took a few steps back. “You’re so tiny,” he commented. “And too damn thin for my liking.”

She glanced down at herself. “We didn’t have enough food, you know.”

“I know, lad.” He nodded as though he really understood, which he did for he had made it his mission to bring poverty to the foreground in the House of Lords.

Then he proceeded to dress himself with Christine’s help.

He looked so handsome, she thought, in those tight black pantaloons, that dark blue double-breasted coat, and the high-collared white shirt. The women at the dinner party were going to fall head over heels in love with him.

“Thank you, Chris, for your help,” he said.

She grinned from ear to ear, her heart blooming with happiness. Then her eyes shifted to his dark blue silk cravat. She wondered how one tied the thing into the perfection he obviously liked.

As she was contemplating the dilemma, Merrick eyed the light freckle on the bridge of her nose and then glanced at her odd cap. He put his hand on it and was about to take it off when Christine shrieked, “Oh no!” clamping both hands on top of it.

“Why on earth do you still wear that, Chris? It’s old and quite improper for this household.” When she still wouldn’t let go, he seized her arm and pulled her roughly her toward him, his other hand still on the cap. Christine

collided against his chest, her face inches from his.

She gazed at his firm lips, and her insides shuddered with a new, thrilling sensation.

Merrick had the sudden urge to kiss her again as he stared down at her, lost in the depths of her violet eyes.

The moment passed, and he released her, causing Christine to stagger backward. He shook his head to clear the abstraction.

Christine watched him, smiling shyly. Then hesitantly she took her cap off.

Merrick saw her hair and chuckled. It was a mess, like a massive used mop on her head. It looked as though she had simply used a pair of scissors and chopped the strands off bit by bit.

“Are you embarrassed?” he asked, tousling her hair fondly.

Christine thinned her lips as she nodded.

Merrick put his arm around her shoulders and patted her head. He said, as he looked down at her and their faces were very close, “Don’t worry. You’ll get a great haircut from an expert, my valet. Speaking of which, he still hasn’t shown his face.”

As though speaking of the devil, the man appeared at the door. “My lord,” the valet said.

“Never mind, Paris, I am all done. I had help from this brat,” Merrick said, slapping Christine on the shoulder.

The elderly servant nodded his snow-white head as he glanced at Christine. She clamped her lip and nodded back at the valet in acknowledgement.

“Chris needs a haircut, Paris,” Merrick continued, his voice rather loud. “Take the brat away and give him a new hairstyle so he can go into society.” He shoved her toward Paris. Christine stumbled across the floor. Merrick caught her arm and pulled her upright. “Can you not

balance right, lad? I definitely need to teach you boxing.”

“Isn’t it time for you to go?” she said.

“Indeed, it’s rather late,” he agreed and then put on the leather Hessian boots. Once done, he stood up, and Paris helped him put on his high-waisted double-breasted overcoat.

Christine silently walked with him to the front door to see him off.

“Have a good evening, my lord,” she said, giving him a cute smile.

Merrick waved at her as he strode toward the curricle. Christine grinned, watching him as he smoothly climbed onto the vehicle and then expertly drove the carriage away.

FOUR “Such bad timing it is, my lord, what with Bonaparte taking over Austria and our economy in the gutter with the ongoing war.” Mr. Wilkinson, a short, stout gentleman with a red plump face, scooped a spoonful of bisque. “It seems there is no hope for our country, though I pray for our good king for he is willing to stand and wage war with that power fanatic of a lunatic Napoleon.”

Merrick watched as his host ate the thick, rich soup. He drank the remaining champagne, and a footman promptly appeared behind him and refilled his glass.

Merrick picked up his spoon and said, “I do have faith in our military, Mr. Wilkinson. I do have faith in Sir Arthur Wellesley, and I do have faith that Bonaparte will be brought down to his knees sooner or later.” Then he proceeded to eat his soup.

“How do you find the soup, my lord?” Mrs. Wilkinson, a generously plump, moonfaced woman with dark hair, asked.

“Very good.” Merrick finished the last spoonful. A footman behind him took his plate away and placed another in front of him. It was broiled salmon. He picked up his fork and tried the pink flesh. “Mm, very nice,” he said, nodding to his host and hostess. They smiled back at him gratefully.

Merrick looked down the table at the other thirteen people attending the dinner party. There were the Honorable Adam Wilson; his wife, the Honorable Mrs. Wilson; their son, Henry; and daughter, Jane. On the far side of the table were Sir and Lady Williams; Mr. and Mrs. McNaught; and Reverend Bernard Thompson, his wife, Mrs. Thompson, and their daughter, Melissa.

“My lord, I’ve heard that you are having a country house party this summer. Is that true?” Jane asked.

The rumor, Merrick thought, had traveled fast. He said, looking at the young woman, “Indeed, my dear.”

Jane’s green eyes shone as she gazed at him with adoration.

“Goodness, my lord, I do hope you won't forget your own neighbors?” Mrs. Wilkinson said, waving her fork about before her.

“No, not at all. You and your husband will no doubt be the first on my list of guests.” Merrick smiled at the woman.

“That is excellent to hear, my lord,” she said.

The talk shifted to various other topics then, mostly about politics and the Peninsular War. The next course was the entrée, of which there was a choice of curried eggs, sweetbreads, and mushrooms and vol-au-vent à la financière. After that there was a choice of game, from which Merrick chose partridge, and lastly, he had strawberries in jelly pudding. The women then departed, leaving the men in the dining room to enjoy their port and cigars.

“I’ve heard that you attended quite a number of balls in London during the season last year, my lord, and that the Duke of Lynwood did also—is that true?” Sir Williams asked from the far side of the table as he poured himself yet another glass of port. “I myself couldn’t attend

because of problems with my estate.”

Merrick twirled his wineglass in one hand and nodded in acknowledgment.

“You see, it might be just a rumor, but I was wondering if it’s true that you are looking for a wife?” Sir Williams asked further.

Merrick raised his brows at the elderly gentleman.

“Where on earth did you hear that, Sir William?”

“Err… rumors, I suppose,” the man muttered, reddening. “’Tis true, isn’t it?” Mr. McNaught said, eyeing Merrick. “You do need an heir to your vast wealth. It simply wouldn’t do that you do not think about your estate. There is your cousin, Sir Allan, but then…” Mr. McNaught couldn’t finish his sentence.

Merrick knew what Mr. McNaught was thinking.

He himself had heard of the rumor many times that his cousin, Allan Hasting, was in fact a bastard child of his dead uncle Timothy Hasting. If this was so, then Merrick had no heir presumptive, and if he had no son, then after his death his title and estate would revert back to the crown. That, Merrick thought, he did not want for both the Huntingdon and Hasting Estates had been in his family for generations, and there was no way he wanted to destroy his ancestors’ legacy.

Merrick rested his head back and said, “How unfortunate it is that my father, bless his soul, did not produce more sons.” He felt a shot of pain as this reminded him of his own son, Frederic Hasting, who’d died only two years ago. He put the thought of his beloved son aside and said, “Yes. To the point, Mr. McNaught, I am intending to find myself a wife.” There, he thought, he had said it. He had in fact shouted to the world and knew soon the whole of London would know and all society’s mamas would

parade their wonderful daughters in front of him to choose as his wife.

“And who is the lucky lady?” the blond-haired young man seated two seats from him asked, his eyes sharp.

Merrick glanced at Henry Wilson. He didn’t like the look in the man’s eyes. “Haven’t found one yet,” he stated flatly, rubbing his finger on the rim of the wineglass.

A low, humming sound vibrated in the room.

“Ah, then I wonder who will be the lucky lady,” Henry said as he placed his hands behind his head and laid back against the seat in a lazy posture.

Merrick was irritated. Why did they have to ask about his affairs? It was none of their business anyway. But then again, this was the local society—the social whirl where all that happened to him would be gossiped about faster than the wind. They considered him the catch of the season. But at least, he reasoned, he was not the hottest topic on the gossip line. That apparently was his friend and business partner.

Maximilian Devilyn was a hell of a rake, changing his mistress every three months—Merrick had heard even the womanizers Prince George IV and Prince Frederick were ashamed they couldn’t keep up with him. The way the man was living was the way to an early grave. He knew his friend had a past that haunted him, as he had himself, but Merrick wasn’t slowly killing himself because of it.

Though he must admit sometimes the pain was truly unbearable.

“I believe it’s time we joined the ladies in the drawing room,” Mr. Wilkinson said and stood up.

Everybody rose and walked to the door except for Merrick.

“My lord?” the host said.

“Indeed, Mr. Wilkinson,” Merrick said. He stood, pushed his chair, drank the rest of the port, dumped the

wineglass on the table, and headed toward the door. *** He shut his bedroom door behind him and turned to see violet eyes watching him. Merrick felt his heart do a somersault as he watched Christine smiling at him.

“Welcome home, my lord. Did you enjoy the dinner party?” she asked as she helped him off with his coat.

He said as sat down on the side of the bed, “What are you doing here? How was your evening?”

She reached out and started to undo his cravat. It wasn’t easy at all. She said, “Good. Mrs. Ross is ever so kind to me, and so is everybody else in the Hall. I’m here to say good night.” And still, she thought, I can’t undo the

cravat from his neck.

Merrick felt Christine tugging the neck scarf tighter around his neck. He grabbed her wrists to make her stop suffocating him. Christine was too consumed with her work to notice. He frowned and gave her a little jerk to get her attention. As he did so, her face flew forward and her soft lips bumped his.

That caught her attention then, and she didn’t seem to be able to move as she gazed into his eyes, their faces very close and her lips touching his.

Merrick was in a trance. He could feel her soft lips against his, and against his better judgment, he wanted to kiss them and even stroke his tongue against them.

He snapped back to reality and drew her away, his heart thumping loudly in his own ears.

Christine shyly touched her lips with her fingers, her eyes downcast. “I… I shall get your night outfit, my lord.” That said, she dashed off toward the wardrobe to do

some searching while he undid his own cravat. A moment later, she said, “Is this the right one?” She came back and showed him the navy banyan.

When he nodded, she placed it on his bed and looked around to see what else she could do. Noticing the curtains were not yet closed properly, she walked toward the window and pulled them closer together.

“So I won’t get a chill?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yes, ’tis winter, and I do not want you to get sick.

I must take care of you properly.” She smiled, turned round, and froze. She stood there, staring at his big, muscular chest, his powerful arms, and his broad shoulders.

His tanned skin was so smooth and hard that she wanted to touch it and see what it felt like.

He gazed at her, saw that ridiculous face, and raised his brows. He pulled his robe on and began to take his trousers off.

She sucked in her breath and hastily twisted toward the drapes. Merrick saw this and roared with laughter. She blushed with her back to him.

“Still embarrassed, Chris?” he asked as he pulled his trousers off. She nodded. “Chris, you can turn round now, I’m decently covered.” He chuckled and folded his arms across his chest.

She turned and, true to his word, he was all covered up.

“Now where was I? Ah, yes. I think I will buy you a whole new wardrobe. What do you think, Chris?” he asked, looking at her shabby breeches and coat.

Christine widened her eyes. “A whole new wardrobe? You mean I will have new clothing? Like breeches, shirts, and all that?” she said with delight. Then instantly her face fell. “But I don’t want it.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“There could be no happiness when my family does not have the same things as I do,” she said.

“Ah, I see. You worry and care about your family more than yourself. That is why I like you. Don’t you worry, Chris. Your family will be getting new wardrobes, too.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, and because she was so happy, she impulsively ran and wrapped her arms around his middle.

Merrick looked down at her, felt the warmth and softness of her body, and wondered if in fact he was going quite mad because he was slowly getting aroused by their close contact. He caught her wrists and removed her arms from his waist. She looked up at him, her face flushed with happiness and her eyes shining brilliantly. His heart did a somersault, then continued with its drumming rhythm.

“What’s wrong, my lord? You look ill—are you all right?” she asked in concern as she touched her hand to his warm cheek and started stroking him. “My lord, are you ill?

Oh no, you are. Why, just look at you—you are warm all over like me when I get sick. You must have a fever. You need to lie down.”

She touched his forehead to check his temperature and found that it was in fact quite hot. “Come this way.

You must lie down, and I’ll go get you something. Oh, I don’t know what, but… I’ll tell Mrs. Ross. She’ll know what to do.” She pulled him toward the bed, but he just stood there, not moving, and he was as rigid and hard as a rock.

Merrick gritted his teeth, the muscles about his strong jaw flexing. His hands clenched and unclenched. He controlled himself by taking deep, slow breaths, his huge chest rising and falling as he stood there looking down at her.

“You may go now,” he said quietly.

“Go where? Oh, to get Mrs. Ross? I’ll go right away,” she said and dashed toward the door. In a flash, he caught her wrist and yanked her back. She slammed against his chest.

She stared up at him, breathing heavily; her eyes fixed on his lips.

“Chris, not to Mrs. Ross—go to your room,” he told her firmly. Mrs. Ross did not need to know about this little masquerade. Good God, the housekeeper would know for sure that the symptoms that he was having right this very instant were not those of sickness but of sexual arousal.

“Err… my lord?” she asked, at a loss.

“Go to your room. I want you to go to your room,” he said, his hand gripping tighter on her arm as he pulled her closer.

Her eyes widened. “But you are sick. I just can’t leave you here and not bother to do anything. I don’t want you to get ill. I have to get Mrs. Ross,” she protested stubbornly.

“You will not,” he said, his grip squeezing her small arm. “I want you to go to your room.” Though he said that, his action implied exactly the opposite, clutching her as closely to him as a lover.

“But you are ill. I must help you,” she said, staring up at him. “It’s my duty,” she added quietly.

He felt her body shake beneath his hands. He released her and took a shaky breath. “Now look here, Chris. Do I seem ill to you?” he asked.

“Yes, you do. Just look at you—you’re hot all over as if you are having a fever,” she said.

“No, I’m not sick, Chris,” he said more calmly this time.

“Then why are you so warm?”

“I’m warm because… I’ve been drinking very heavily—at the dinner party,” he lied, his eyes burning with self-disgust.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But of course, now that you’ve mentioned it, I also remember Mr. Brad sometimes drank at work, and he got really warm.” She managed to smile up at him.

“Chris?”

“Yes?” “Go now,” he commanded quietly.

“Oh. Yes, my lord.” She dragged herself reluctantly toward the door. There, she turned back and looked at him. His face was as impassive as a mask, though it was all red and stiff. Actually, his whole body was red and stiff.

She gave him another smile and left, shutting the door behind her.

Merrick stood there for a moment, trying to regain control of himself. Finally, when he was sure he was in control and the lust in his blood gone, he relaxed and climbed into the cold, empty bed. ***

He moved himself on top of her, his hand caressing her slender legs. He snuggled his head into the crook of her neck, and he smelled lavender. His hot mouth trailed along her nape with wet kisses. Lord, she made him feel complete.

He gazed into that beautiful face and stroked her silky hair. His head came down to her, and his lips touched hers. He plunged his tongue into her mouth. He stroked and played with her while his hand trailed down and cuddled her generous breasts. His passion heightened. His blood stirred hot with wanting her. He released her mouth

and moved his head back to stare down at her. She was beautiful, and her lips were swollen red. Suddenly, her face turned fuzzy and started to fade away.

“Angela?” he whispered in panic as her face disappeared completely. Then, as though in answer to his call, her face slowly reappeared. He peered closer at her and saw her gray eyes turn a violet color. The freckles on the bridge of her nose were light but prominent. His breathing became hard and laborious as he pushed himself up, staring down at the new woman below him. But it wasn’t the face of a woman that he looked at.

It was the face of a boy!

He pushed himself off the bed, found himself falling heavily, and landed on the floor with a thud.

Merrick snapped his eyes opened. The light was dim, though he knew that morning had arrived. He sat up and scanned the room. It was only a dream, he thought. It wasn’t real.

FIVE The wind whistled past Merrick’s face as the stallion galloped across the patchy snow. It was as if master and beast were one—racing, gliding, and lashing dirty snow everywhere with their speed. His blood ran hot. He could feel the crisp, cold wind whipping at his face. He urged his stallion to go faster until at last they reached the thick woods where he slowed the horse to a walk. He twisted around and narrowed his eyes, looking across his vast estate. In the distance, he could just make out Huntingdon Hall.

He’d needed to get away to settle his thoughts and calm his nerves. In the woods was the best place of all. He came to a treacherous pathway that led him to his favorite place. He steered his stallion around a bush and came out into the clearing.

The lake that was usually clear and calm was now frozen solid. This was the place where he always came to seek solitude and gather his thoughts.

He descended from the saddle and took a stroll. He remembered when he used to come here to bathe during the summer years ago with his son Frederic. He climbed up onto a big rock and stood there, deep in thought. It was his favorite spot, hidden by thick bushes. It also had a perfect view of the lake. Although the scenery spread before him

was quite beautiful, he couldn’t keep his thoughts of last night at bay.

What was wrong with him? He couldn’t understand what he had been feeling last night. What did it mean? God help him. How could a mere youth arouse him? Was he going mad? He couldn’t think of one explanation as to why he had responded in such a way to Chris’s innocent touch.

He stayed there for at least an hour. When he couldn’t reach any conclusion, he descended from the rock.

He picked up a pebble and threw it onto the solid lake where it bounded and rebounded on the surface of the ice.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat and ambled toward his horse. “Time to go home,” he said, patting his stallion.

Birds chirped loudly in the air, and by instinct, Merrick twisted around. He saw birds flocking away from a tree.

Bang!

He felt something sharp strike his left arm.

Twisting to look in the direction of the shot, he saw the swaying and rustling of bushes and snow falling off dead branches on the far side of the lake. He searched around him but saw no one.

The pain rushed in, sharp and hot, and he fell to the ground. *** Christine stared with shining eyes at the new clothing Mrs. Ross had given her this morning. She had said that these were only temporarily until she got her wardrobe sorted out, as the earl had instructed.

The linen material of the shirt was so fine she was

afraid to touch it. Smiling with glee, she took off her chemise and carefully put on the gray breeches. After wrapping the binding around her chest, she wore the new shirt on top of that and buttoned it vigilantly, smoothing away any wrinkles. She put on the black coat on top of that, and lastly, her new buckle shoes. After haphazardly tying the silk scarf about her neck, she brushed her neat, short hair into place.

Christine walked to the window and looked out.

The morning sun was just rising. She knew it was time to go down and have her breakfast. But perhaps she should go in and say thank you to the earl first.

In Merrick’s bedroom, she saw his bed was a mess, but the earl was not there. Where could he have gone to?

Feeling gloomy, she left the room and headed downstairs, where she met with Mrs. Ross.

“Ah, Master Chris. Up already, I see,” the woman said.

“Have you seen the earl, Mrs. Ross?” Christine asked.

“Out, he is, Master Chris, riding his dark beast— perhaps to his favorite spot, the lake in the west woods.

Would you like to have your breakfast now?”

“No, Mrs. Ross, I’m not hungry yet,” she replied, and she inquired as to where the west woods were.

She’d always loved walking in the morning because the air was cool and fresh, and she learned the distance to the west woods was not at all that far. After all, she had been walking five miles from her home to the vase factory in Hamming every day for the past five years—this was nothing compared to that.

Reaching the woods, Christine narrowed her eyes against the harsh, bright daylight and scanned her surroundings. There was nothing except birds chattering

and, occasionally, the whistling of the winter breeze.

Bang!

She jerked, the thumping of her heart intensifying.

She twisted about, searching in every direction. The noise had come from within the woods.

Without thinking, she darted in. She raced past trees and branches that whipped at her face and arms, but she ignored the pain. She ran until she came out into a clearing, paused to look about her surroundings, and broke into a run again, still looking around wildly.

“My lord!” she shouted, her eyes wide in shock once she saw Merrick sprawled on the ground, one arm covered with blood. “My lord!” She raced to him, kneeled beside him, and lifted his torso up so that his head rested on her lap. “You’ve been shot!” she said, her voice hoarse.

She touched his injured arm gently and felt the sticky red stain on her hand.

“Chris,” Merrick said, trying to control the pain shooting through his body. “Help me up.”

“Hold on,” she said, and hastily, with hands that shook, she began to undo the cravat about her neck. Once she had managed to free the scarf, she wrapped it around his injured arm. “That should stop the bleeding,” she said, looking at him as she quickly tied the end in a tight knot.

She moved to touch his pale face and felt his cold sweat against her palm.

“Come, help me,” Merrick said, putting his arm around her shoulder.

She nodded and helped him up. “Can you walk?”

“It’s only a flesh wound. I’ll be all right,” Merrick said, and they struggled their way to the horse.

“Mount up,” he said. When she looked at him in confusion, he grabbed her and tossed her onto the saddle.

Then he seated himself behind her and kicked the stallion

to start trotting toward home. It was going fast, and she had to hold on tightly to the saddle so that she wouldn’t fall.

“I must admit ’tis the very first time I have ridden a horse,” she said breathlessly and almost screamed when she felt herself slipping. He caught her in time around the waist and pulled her back up, clamping his left arm around her waist so she wouldn’t fall again. After that she didn’t much mind the speed the horse was traveling nor the distance from the ground. She felt safe in his arms.

The feeling of Christine sitting so intimately close to him bothered him. His nose was very close to her as he bent down, urging the stallion to go faster. He could smell the fresh innocent smell of the youth and simply wanted to snuggle his face against that delicate neck and bury it there.

Damnation!

He kicked the stallion’s side, urging it to go faster.

In response, the horse lurched forward, throwing Christine backward, colliding against Merrick. The contact caused his heart to beat faster, and the thrilling sensation in his nerves was—God! So damn good!

There could be nothing better than this, he thought. Christine chose that moment to wriggle her body to find a more comfortable place on the hard saddle, involuntarily rubbing her back against his chest and her backside against his private parts.

Damnation! Merrick almost screamed out in frustration.

Finally, Huntingdon Hall was in sight. He had never been so pleased to see his home before. The stallion trotted toward the stable, and Jacob rushed to them.

“How was your ride, my lord?” he asked.

Christine clambered down from the saddle. “Mr. Jacob, stop asking questions. Can’t you see his lordship is

hurt? You must get help, fast.”

Jacob looked shocked and very concerned and was ready to take action when Merrick said, “No, Jacob, I’m fine.”

As Merrick got down, Christine was by his side, ready for him to lean on her. He scowled at her and walked off, one hand holding on to his injured arm. He was halfway to the Hall when she caught up to him and pulled his arm over her shoulder, half trying to carry him, half dragging herself along with him.

The housekeeper was at the door and shrieked with dismay once she saw them. “There is blood. Quick, Master Chris, bring his lordship to his room. We must get it looked at.”

In the bedroom, Merrick sat on his bed, and Christine was beside him. “Are you in much pain?” she asked.

“No, Chris, I’m not in pain,” he said, his face passive.

She bent down to untie her scarf from his arm; then she unbuttoned his shirt and helped him off with his coat and shirt.

“Oh!” She gave out a loud sigh. His bare skin looked so muscular and smooth. She had that urge to touch it again.

“What’s the matter, Chris?” he asked, putting his fingers under her chin and nudging her face up.

She stared at him, drowning in those teal-blue eyes of his. She had the urge to kiss those firm lips even though she didn’t know how. She, however, could never allow herself to forget that she was in fact pretending to be a male—and besides that, their statuses in life were very different. He could never love a woman so far below him.

Furthermore, she had heard one of the maids say that he

was already in love with another woman named Anne Wilson, a very beautiful lady from London. Christine could never compete with a woman like that.

She looked at his wound and was relieved to see that it was indeed superficial.

“I’ve told Jacob to fetch the doctor. Master Chris, would you come here and help me clean his lordship’s wound,” the housekeeper said as she placed a jug of hot water on the table.

“I think somebody shot him,” Christine said more to herself than to anyone else.

Mrs. Ross gasped and almost dropped the cloth she was dipping into the hot water.

“Chris!” Merrick warned.

“But it is true, is it not? I heard a shot.”

“It was an accident. Somebody must be poaching in the woods again,” Merrick said.

Christine took the cloth Mrs. Ross had soaked in the water and began to clean away the blood on Merrick’s arm. “Poaching?” She looked at him and then turned to look at the housekeeper. “Mrs. Ross, what do you think?”

“I don’t know, Master Chris, but it could be. What with them hunting and killing those foxes and all, there’s bound to be accidents sooner or later.”

It was not long before an elderly man came in through the door and said, “Well, let me see what I can do.

How are you feeling, my lord?”

“Fine, Dr. Bennett, I don’t think I needed you here. It’s only a flesh wound, after all,” Merrick said with tight lips.

“Flesh wound?” The doctor pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and inspected the wound. “Ah, I see it is just superficial. But it is rather quite deep. Have to do it properly, you know. Don’t want you to get infection,

do we?” He opened his case, then started to clean the wound. “How did you do it, my lord?”

“If you mean did I shoot myself, nay, Doctor, I did not,” Merrick said through gritted teeth.

“Poacher, Doctor,” Christine interjected.

The doctor stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her.

“Who are you, boy?” he asked curiously.

“My ward,” Merrick supplied. The doctor nodded and resumed with his work. Fifteen minutes later, he was finished.

“That should be fine now. I’ll come back in two days’ time and see how the wound is doing… Pretty boy,” he mumbled to himself. “Now, my lord, no hard work for a week,” he stated.

“No physical work?” Merrick snapped. “Surely you must be joking, Doctor. I’m not going to be a vegetable for a week.”

The doctor looked taken aback.

“But surely ’tis for your own good,” Christine said.

“I agree with the doctor.”

Dr. Bennett looked at her again. She blushed and bowed her head.

“Now there is something you don’t see every day, eh?” Dr. Bennett beamed at Mrs. Ross.

The housekeeper cleared her throat. “If there is nothing else, I’ll take these and get them cleaned up.” She gathered up the mess of bowls and cloths and left the room.

“Remember what I told you: no hard work for a week,” the doctor said and turned to Christine. “And you will nurse him for me. I want you to report to me if he is not following my orders. Now, I know he doesn’t generally take orders, but this one is an exception.” He smiled at her.

“I’ll show you out, sir,” Christine said, still blushing

profoundly.

“Nay, I know my way out.” He waved his hand and left the room, muttering along the corridor, “Pretty boy indeed… never seen the like in…”

“Merrick, you must put on a shirt—you might get a fever,” Christine said, heading for the wardrobe. A few seconds later, she came back with a clean shirt in her hand.

“Here, you must put this on.”

“I don’t need it—I won’t get a fever,” Merrick said.

“Merrick?” She frowned at him. “Really, this is very important.”

Merrick stared at her in surprise. Few people ever argued with him. Clearly, the boy doesn’t know any better.

“Chris, leave now. I have some business to do,” he told her and stood up, dismissing her.

“But at least put this on first.” She held the shirt up to him.

The boy is very stubborn, he thought. He snatched the shirt and put it on and just to please her. Still frowning, he left the room to work on his accounts in the study.

SIX “I’m leaving for London tomorrow, Chris,” Merrick announced, then sipped the red wine as he watched his ward eating her cottage pie with enjoyment, licking the fork and her lips with her small tongue. He thought she looked quite enchanting wearing that new shirt and blue cravat that Paris had taken many minutes to arrange on her person. Just ripe for the plucking, though any such thought was against God’s rule of nature. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not now and hadn’t been able to for the last two weeks. It was hell!

Christine looked up, and her heart did a startled kick at the thought of being without him. “Why are you leaving?” she asked, knowing already that he wasn’t going to take her with him. London, she thought. He was going to London. He was going to see Lady Anne Wilson.

He put his wineglass down. Christine didn’t know that his hand was gripping the stem of the glass and that it would break any second now if he were to apply more force.

“Parliament,” he said curtly. “And then the season.”

Aye, the season, with balls and parties and women, he thought. That would certainly take his mind off the more sinful things that had been keeping him awake at nights. And yes, Maria—beautiful Maria, his mistress. She

would no doubt take his mind off this sinful lust he had toward his own ward.

“Oh,” Christine said, turning back to her food.

“If you’re lonely, your family can visit you. They can stay as long as they like. When I’m gone, you’ll be the master of the house, so feel free to do as you please,” he said.

Christine nodded. “Thank you. How long will you be away?”

“Until summer, and then there will be guests coming here. I’ve planned a summer house party.”

No doubt, she thought, his intention was to bring Lady Anne here so that he could propose to her.

“You will look after yourself, too, won’t you?” She watched him pour himself another glass of wine and down it. “You might get all hot like the other time if you drink too much.”

Merrick started coughing, his face turning red.

“Are you all right, Merrick?” She ran up to him and put a hand on his back, ready to thump if Merrick needed it.

Damn him! Merrick thought. Those hands, God, those small, gentle hands on his back. They felt so good.

Christine lowered her head toward him, her nose inches away from his high forehead. “Are you better now?” she asked, smiling at him with bright eyes.

Merrick glanced up, saw her so near, and sucked in his breath. He wanted to kiss those lips. He gritted his teeth at the stupid urge. Had his prime male instinct gone haywire?

He could feel the warmth near him, and God, how he wanted to feel even more. He knew then that he had made the right decision to go to London early, whether there was Parliament or not. He was not going to go

through this torture of self-doubt, this insanity, anymore.

He stood abruptly, making Christine jump back. “I leave early tomorrow morning. Good night, Chris,” he said and stalked out the room.

Alone in the dinning room, Christine was confused. What had just happened?

Merrick couldn’t sleep that night. He kept thinking about Christine and those lips for most of the night. When dawn came, he was glad to be up and gone—gone miles and miles away.

And so he left for London without a word of farewell to Christine, afraid that if he saw her before he left he’d change his mind and take her with him. Aye, he was glad indeed.

SEVEN Eight Months Later Maximilian Devilyn, Duke of Lynwood, got out of the carriage with poise and ease. He was elegantly attired in a black coat, starched white cravat, and dark trousers. His blond hair was fashioned in a disheveled crop beneath the tall gray hat that was tilted to one side. As he stood there staring up at the vast blue sky, he took a deep breath and smiled.

On the other side of the carriage, Allan Hasting also got out. He, too, was tall and elegantly dressed, but not as striking as the duke.

“At last, we are here,” Allan said. As the door of Huntingdon Hall opened, he exclaimed, “Ross, it’s good to be here again.”

“Aye, sir,” Ross replied, smiling.

Merrick came out of the drawing room then and moved toward his cousin. “Allan, how are you?”

“I’m fine, as you can see. How are you, dear cousin?

Hope you aren’t working yourself to death.” The young man laughed.

Merrick was about to say that of course he wasn’t when he saw his friend coming in through the door as he had been coming and going through that door countless

times for the past ten years.

“How was the drive, Max?” Merrick asked.

“Fine,” Max replied and gave Merrick a good, manly hug.

“Come, have a drink. You must be tired after all that traveling,” he said and led the way into the drawing room—the drawing room that had dramatically been changed during his absence.

“That’s better. Cooler in here,” Allan said, as he headed toward the settee near the window and took a seat.

Max took a seat next to him.

“Here.” Merrick passed them each a glass of whisky. “How is London? Busy as usual?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of brandy.

Allan nodded. “How soon will the guests be arriving?” he asked.

“Later today or tomorrow,” Merrick replied. “I hope you handled my business in London all right, Allan. I didn’t plan to leave London in such haste…”

He studied the amber liquid in his snifter. Why had he left London earlier than usual when the season had still been in full bloom?

“Don’t worry, old chap. Everything is fine,” the cousin replied and took a sip of his whisky. “It wasn’t that spectacular after you left anyway—isn’t that right, Your Grace?” He looked at Maximilian. “Just the same old balls and dinner parties, and the sort; you know, like our old George throws when he feels the urge to.”

“Same old George,” Merrick said and finished the rest of his brandy. “Didn’t think I’d miss much.”

Maximilian emptied his whisky in one big gulp and stood up. “My room still the same?” he asked Merrick.

Merrick wasn’t sure if his friend’s room was still the same because he hadn’t checked. In fact, he wasn’t sure if

anything in his house was still the same because of his ward’s hand in spring cleaning.

“Have a look yourself,” he said, avoiding his friend’s eyes.

Maximilian gave Merrick a raised eyebrow and left.

Allan straightened up in his seat. “Merrick?” he started, watching his cousin taking a seat opposite him.

“You need to talk about business, Allan?”

“Well, yes. Your land is big,” he started. “I know a man, and he’ll be attending the upcoming horse race.”

“And?” Merrick put his snifter down on the table.

Allan put down his glass and clasped his hands as he leaned forward.

“What type of business?”

“You know—we’ve talked about this before.”

“Is it about opening that cotton mill?” Merrick turned to look out the window. The scenery was beautiful outside with the lush, green leaves swaying from side to side as warm, gentle breezes danced around them; the blue sky was high and cloudless, and the rainbow colors of blooming roses, lavender, and marigold were scattered about in the beautifully designed garden.

“Indeed, Merrick. You see, there are enough people in this village to work for us. And you have the wealth and the land,” Allan said enthusiastically.

“Allan, you know I have to consider my people. I don’t want to force them all to leave their homes. I want a secure future for them,” he said, smiling with good humor.

“They can always work for us, as I’ve already told you. The pay isn’t bad, really.” Allan got up and approached his cousin.

“Yes, I know that, but some people still prefer to live in the old ways, farming their land. And as for the wages, they are rather low considering that in most mills

the workers put in more than ten hours a day. And might I remind you that I don’t like child labor? If this business is going to go ahead, there will be no child labor.”

“All right, Merrick, I know.” Allan sighed. “Oh, by the way—” He halted, frowned at the sound of horse hooves and carriages wheels drawing to a stop outside and reluctantly followed his cousin out of the drawing room.

They met the butler at the corridor.

“The Earl of Queensbury and his family have arrived, my lord,” Ross announced, opening the door.

Merrick nodded and went outside. There he saw a thin, tall, middle-aged man come out of the carriage.

“Difficult traveling in summer, I say,” Lord Queensbury commented. He sighed and turned to help his wife and daughter down while Merrick and Allan descended the stairs toward them.

“Huntingdon, Hasting, how are you both? It’s a long time since we’ve met—when was the last time?” The earl frowned in concentration as they clasped hands.

“It was the Richmonds’ ball, dear, and not very long ago at all,” his wife supplied and turned to Merrick.

“My lord.” She nodded and offered her gloved hand to Merrick.

He took it and touched it to his lips, Allan following suit.

“The journey was difficult?” Merrick asked.

“Not as pleasant as I had hoped. But nevertheless, my lord, one must bear the pain of staying stationary for many hours in order to get from A to B.” She laughed merrily and fluttered her fan about her smooth face.

“Indeed.” Merrick nodded and turned his attention to the young woman before him. “Lady Anne, welcome to my home. I do hope you will like it here.”

“It is indeed very beautiful, my lord. I am sure I

will, of course, enjoy it here.” She smiled at him pleasantly.

“Ah, Lady Anne.” Allan reached for her hand.

“You’re still as radiant as ever, my dear.” He bowed and kissed her gloved hand.

She blushed prettily and giggled. “Nay, Mr. Hasting, you’re over-complimenting me,” she said as she gently touched one hand to her blushing cheek.

“No, no. It is the truth—isn’t that right, Merrick?”

Allan turned to his cousin.

“Hmm.” Merrick smiled at the young woman who was looking back at him with bright eyes. She was especially beautiful under the midafternoon sun with her honey-blond hair styled into ringlets and her blue eyes shining with obvious happiness.

“Your estate is enchanting, my lord. The flowers are especially beautiful. A picnic would be very nice. Might I suggest one for tomorrow?” Anne said, eyeing the handsome young earl.

“Of course,” Merrick agreed. “Do come inside. ’Tis rather hot out here,” he said and led them into the Hall.

Mrs. Ross and a parlor maid, Emma, entered the drawing room with tea set just as the guests reached the main entrance. Their tasks finished, they left the room.

Emma couldn’t contain herself and rushed below stairs, squealing with delight, “Did ye see her? Oh God, she is so beautiful. Oh, Master Chris, Lady Anne is here, and she’s so beautiful.” She jumped up and down with joy.

“Really, Emma. You don’t have to act as though God has finally made you a princess,” Betty, another parlor maid with dark brown hair and blue eyes, retorted sarcastically.

“Hah, Betty, you’re just jealous ’cause I’m going to win the bet,” Emma retorted.

Christine grinned. It looked like Emma was going

to win the bet she and Betty had over who was going to be Merrick’s new bride. With Merrick returning from London a full month before the season was to end and virtually accompanied by Lady Anne and her family, the servants’ gossip had increased about the possibility of a new countess.

“Emma, Betty, the luggage,” Mrs. Ross said from the door. “And you, too, Master Chris. You must meet the guests,” she said and left again.

“Mayhap we can get a peek at Lady Anne,” Emma said, looking pointedly at Betty.

“Oh, that girl,” Betty said through gritted teeth.

“She thinks she has won the bet already. Huh, we’ll see about that. Come, Master Chris.” She snorted and walked toward the kitchen door.

They arrived in the hallway and halted. There they stood and stared wide-eyed at the mountain of bags that the footmen and maids had just dumped from the many carriages outside.

“God!” Betty exclaimed, putting her hands to her forehead, pretending to faint as she looked at Christine.

Christine giggled. She clamped her mouth shut with both her hands. Since Merrick had deserted her months ago for London, she had felt lonely and found companionship with the servants. She was a part of them now—one of the close-knit family. She even helped them out daily with the chores even though they had refused to let her touch a thing at first. She had told them firmly that she must earn her keep and she would do so by helping them out with the chores. Besides that, she had told them, she would be bored to death if she were to do nothing.

That was when they had told her she should learn to do housekeeping since, after all, she was the earl’s ward. And so began her lesson on housekeeping with both Mr. and

Mrs. Ross, who found it a pleasure teaching her for she was a fast learner. Now, after Christine had put her hands into spring cleaning the Hall, the place looked bright and very inviting, and the servants had said so to her with delight.

Mrs. Ross had said to her at one time that she had the imagination and tactic of a woman instead of a young man.

And Christine had blushed with delight with that compliment.

Betty shook her head and started to pick up a bag.

“Give me that one, Betty. I’ll help you,” Christine said.

“Are you sure, Master Chris?” Betty asked, her eyes large.

“Of course, I wanted to see this Lady Anne. See how she treats people like me. Now pass that to me.”

Christine gave out her hands.

“Oh, good idea,” Betty giggled. “Here then.” She dumped the bag into Christine’s arms.

Christine caught it, and because of the weight she crashed to the floor. “Good Lord, what’s in there?” she exclaimed, pushed herself up, and rubbed her backside.

“I’m so sorry, Master Chris,” Betty said apologetically.

“I’m all right, Betty. Now let’s go.” Christine walked to the stairs. Betty picked one herself and followed.

“Hmm, I wonder who these bags belonged to.”

Betty frowned and stopped abruptly, causing Christine to halt behind her to avoid them crashing into each other.

“Excuse me!” They heard a voice from down the hall somewhere. They turned to the left of the corridor and saw a maid hovering near one of the guests’ rooms.

“Come here. Those bags belong to Lady Anne,” the maid said, waving her hand at them to come toward her.

Christine and Betty looked at each other, smiling.

They knew this was their chance for a meeting. They picked up the bags and staggered toward the woman as she opened the door wider.

“Here, you two can set them over there.” She pointed in the direction of the bed. They followed her instruction and placed the bags near the bed in the center of the room. Christine was about to walk to the door when she heard a sharp voice behind her.

“Claire! Do come help me with this stupid gown.

It’s too tight on me. Oh God, I can’t breathe! This corset is killing me. Damn it, Claire, hurry up. Can’t you see I’m suffocating?”

Christine eyed the beautiful woman. She was at a loss for words as she stared at the angelic form. The woman had golden-blond hair that was formed into ringlets high on her head with some curls dropping down that rested about at her breasts. Her skin was petal white and smooth like ivory. She was slender and tall. Suddenly, Christine felt like she was dirt next to a diamond.

“Aye, my lady, I’m so sorry.” Claire, the lady’s maid, scurried to help the woman with her dress.

“You two,” the woman turned her eyes on them, “Don’t just stand there. Leave at once. You should know your duties. Have you no manners? Leave, I say!” She shouted at the two of them, pointing a delicate, slender finger at them.

Christine felt a pang of shock. She and Betty glanced at each other and quickly left.

“Servants these days have no manners,” Anne muttered as though there was poison in her mouth.

Christine and Betty went down, got more bags, and came back up. Claire quickly helped them put the bags down and checked both bags for something. “It’s not here,” she murmured to herself.

“Found it yet?” Anne asked.

“Nay, my lady. I’ll go down myself and find it,” the maid said and rushed to the door.

“Wait!” Anne snapped. “Come back and undo my corset.”

“What about the perfume?” Claire asked.

Christine’s and Betty’s eyes met.

“I want that, too,” Anne snapped.

“But—” Anne sighed and looked heavenward. “Those two can find it for you. Come and undo this corset for me.

Hurry!” she said through gritted teeth.

Claire nodded nervously and rushed to Christine and Betty. “Please, find a bag for me. It’s green with red strips. Please hurry. You don’t want Lady Anne to, err, get annoyed.”

Christine looked at the maid and saw the frightened look in her eyes. She herself had worn that look before, when Mr. Brad had been around, watching her and trying to find faults in her work. Then he had whipped her even though she hadn’t made any mistake at all. It was fear, that look the maid was wearing. Would Lady Anne whip Claire if she did something wrong? The very thought brought forward a lump in her throat, and she pitied the maid. To ease the maid’s mind, she nodded her head firmly, and she and Betty rushed out.

“Good Lord, did you see her, Master Chris? Just look at the way she speaks to us, as though we are nothing but rubbish, and we’re not even her servants. I feel sorry for that maid,” Betty muttered as they descended the stairs.

“She is very pretty though, isn’t she, Betty?”

Christine said.

“What? Don’t say you’re one of them, too? Falling head over heels in love with that witch,” Betty said

disgustedly and sniffed noisily.

“Well, she is pretty,” Christine put in firmly.

“Huh, come on, Master Chris. If you listen to me, I advise you to pay no heed to that witch and stay away from her. She’s bad, I tell you.”

Christine found herself trying to keep up with the maid’s hurrying steps. They were only two steps away from ground floor when she lost her footing and crashed into Betty. They tumbled down the last couple of steps and landed flat on their faces on the polished marble floor.

She was sore all over. Christine was sure she was going to get bruises from this. She touched her elbow and found that it was tender. Another one to add to her collection, she thought, and pushed herself up. Instantly, the pain shot through from her ankle to the core of her heart. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth to suppress the scream she was about to make. She turned her face heavenward. A moment later, when the pain subsided, she opened her eyes and saw in shock the angry face of Merrick.

The black look he wore on his face as he scowled down at them scared her so much that the pain in her sprained ankle paled in comparison. She didn’t know what to do, so she just sat there and stared up him.

Betty almost fainted when she saw the angry face of her master. However, she gathered all her courage, and with legs that wobbled—which, try as she might, she couldn’t seem to keep under control—she stood up.

“What do you think you are doing?” Merrick asked, looking at Christine.

“It was an accident. We fell down the stairs. Oh, my lord, I promise that it won’t happen again. I promise,” Betty cried, tears misting her eyes.

Merrick’s question wasn’t intended for the maid; it

was for Christine. However, Christine wasn’t paying any attention.

He turned to look at Betty and then back at Christine. She was still staring up at him from her sitting position, both her legs under her bottom, both her palms on the floor, and her head tilted right back, staring up at him.

He bent down, roughly seized her arm, and swung her up to a standing position. She whimpered at the sheer pain as he yanked her up and tried very hard not to cry in front of him.

“Stop playing foolish games,” he scolded and shoved her away from him.

She nearly collided with Betty. The other girl held on to her so they wouldn’t fall back onto their backsides again.

“It was an accident,” Christine said quietly, and without looking at him, she limped toward the piles of bags near the door and grabbed the one with green and red strips.

He watched her as she was doing this, and his eyes narrowed.

She turned back and was passing him toward the stairs when he caught her arms and roughly pulled her around to face him. It was so quick that she was out of breath when she stood before him, her eyes staring at the mass of his white shirt.

“You’re limping,” he commented. “And where do you think you’re taking that bag?” “’Tis nothing,” she said with her head bowed and moved her arm in such a way that she was released from his grasp. She started to move toward the stairs. He caught her arm again and grabbed the bag from her hand.

“Take this.” He handed the bag to Betty. The maid

grabbed it, bobbed, and rushed up the stairs.

“You’re hurt, Chris,” he said.

“I’m not hurt,” she said, tugging her arm free.

“You’ve sprained your ankle. Come, let me look.”

“You don’t have to concern yourself with me. After all, you didn’t for the past eight months,” she said, ignoring him.

“You’re very stubborn, Chris,” he said and then left her.

She turned to look at him as he entered the drawing room. He had changed, she thought. She was still hurt that he had left her without saying good-bye eight months ago. When he returned, he had changed toward her. Why?

EIGHT Christine gently touched her fingers to her tender ankle.

She winced at the dull pain. The spot had turned dark purple, almost black. It’d be sore for a few days, she thought. She’d have to be careful with it. She quickly put her sock and shoe back on, careful so that they wouldn’t press too hard on the tender spot. She stretched her legs out.

“How’s your ankle?”

She jerked, looked up, and saw Merrick. She quickly stood up and grimaced at the pain her sprained ankle caused. When did he come in? she thought miserably. The man’s feet were as quiet as a lion when it was hunting its prey.

“It’s fine,” she said.

“You sure you’re all right, Chris?” His fingers touched her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” she said breathlessly, nodding her head.

“That’s good to hear,” he commented as he touched her chin so that their eyes met.

Merrick felt his pulse quicken. He swiftly removed his hand from her chin, turned, strode to her bed, and sat down.

“There’s no need for you to attend me this evening,” he began.

Nay, he could not allow the youth to attend him tonight, nor from tomorrow onward. It would be too hazardous. Being with the youth caused him to lose his sense of logic and order. Being with the youth increased his yearning to kiss those soft lips.

When he had first met Chris, he had pitied the boy.

Because of that, his fondness for him had led him to take the youth in. Only doing so had led him to experience odd feelings that he shouldn’t have had because it was ungodly.

He had thought that going to London, mixing himself in the social whirl, and courting young women would surely make him come to reason. After all, he had hardly seen pretty women in the country. It had worked—for the first few months anyway. But then, Lord, all he had done after that was eye every young buck, and well, he had often wondered what women would look like wearing breeches.

When he knew he couldn’t handle this cursed fantasy anymore, he had returned to Huntingdon Hall— only to see the youth had grown even more appetizing—

ripe for the plucking.

Before he had left, Chris had been thin, almost skin and bone, with pale skin and sunken eyes. When he had returned, my God, he had transformed. He now looked fit, healthy, and beautiful. His skin was glowing with health, his brown hair—my God, he actually noticed this—was shiny and had grown even darker than he had remembered.

His eyes were bright, his cheeks were always a light rosy color, and his lips—he groaned inside—were always pink and luscious. Somehow, he expected the youth to gain a bit of muscle because he was so healthy, but he couldn’t see any sign of that. When he had touched the youth’s arm this morning, it had felt soft—too damn soft for a young man.

He had hoped his going to London would change his idiotic fancy, but he had been wrong there. Now, even

more so than before, his desire mounted. Every time he looked at Chris he wanted to kiss the youth. It was wrong, and he realized that he craved to do much more. He began to doubt his sanity daily. Every time he saw the youth, his hands itched to touch, to hold, to caress. His mouth yearned to kiss, to explore that soft, delicate mouth. What would it be like inside that mouth? Aye, he yearned and craved and hungered from the very sight of it.

“You will get changed and come down to dine with me and my guests,” he said abruptly and stood up.

“You wish me to dine with your guests?” she asked.

There was panic in her voice.

“Yes,” he said and walked out the room.

Christine didn’t know what to do. She certainly didn’t want to dine with his guests. But then she couldn’t very well disobey him. It was his order, after all. And so reluctantly she had a bath after he had left her, and then Paris came in to see her final dressing. Tonight she wore dark wool breeches, a white shirt, and a navy blue cravat that took Paris a full half hour to arrange to perfection.

Once all done, she nervously came down the grand stairs to the drawing room. She had never met high society guests before, and she had no idea how to behave. She just hoped that she wasn’t going to embarrass Merrick because she was ignorant. Ross smiled and nodded at her as she walked into the drawing room.

“I hope you both had a good rest, Lady Queensbury, Lady Anne?” She heard Merrick say to the two ladies sitting on the settee near the empty hearth.

“Indeed, my lord, may I compliment you on my bedroom and all the other rooms in this Hall. They are inviting and elegant indeed,” Lady Queensbury said, smiling at him.

“I’m glad you liked them,” Merrick said, knowing

that it was in fact his ward who had a hand in it.

“My lord, have you forgotten to mention something to me?” Lady Queensbury continued. “I seem to see my brother-in-law and his whole family here.” Her beautiful, youthful face turned quite red when she said that.

Merrick turned to look at the Wilsons on the other side of the room, who had just arrived half an hour ago.

Instantly, he saw Christine standing awkwardly near the door like a wallflower. He turned back to Lady Queensbury. “Yes, excuse me,” he said, bowed at both women, and left.

Lady Queensbury and Anne both walked to greet their relatives, the other Wilsons.

“Good evening, Lillian. I had no idea your family had been invited to the earl’s private party,” Lady Queensbury said sarcastically. She moved closer to Mrs. Wilson and whispered, “What did you do?”

“Ah, Lady Queensbury, you see, we accidentally met during the Robinson’s dinner party last winter. He happened to invite us to his party. It is not what I did that got us here tonight, but rather”—she turned to look at her daughter—“because of Jane.” She smiled triumphantly.

“I see!” the countess snapped.

Anne said to Jane, “Ah, Cousin Jane, I see you’re still a schoolgirl after all, with that distasteful gown of yours. Very unfashionable, let me assure you. It’s a gown for a school miss, not a lady of fashion.” She smiled and whispered into Jane’s ear. “If you’re trying to catch the earl, don’t even think about it. For I’m sure he sees you as no more than a stupid school miss who is making a fool of herself.” She lifted her head then and smiled with satisfaction at Jane, who just looked defeated.

Anne turned to Mrs. Wilson. “Good evening,

Auntie, enjoy your dinner tonight.”

Mrs. Wilson looked from the smiling Anne to her daughter. “Jane? Are you all right?” she asked in concern.

Jane blinked and said, “Oh, Mama, I—” Merrick came to stand in front of Christine near the door. She looked up at him and smiled nervously.

“You look nice,” he said, and he meant it, perhaps even understated it. “Come this way. I will introduce you to my guests.” He led her to the Wilsons.

“Everyone,” Merrick began, “may I introduce my ward, Chris Smith.”

Anne glanced at Christine. She widened her eyes and then glared at Merrick. “You have a ward, my lord?” she said. There was a hint of an accusation in her voice.

Christine bowed to Anne.

“Have I seen you somewhere before, lad?” Lord Queensbury asked Christine. He looked as though he had just seen a ghost.

Christine shook her head and said, “No, I don’t think so, my lord.”

Maximilian appeared at the door then. His presence was so powerful that the guests turned toward him standing there, silently watching them. Lady Queensbury swiftly grabbed her daughter’s arm and rushed over to him.

“Why, Your Grace, I didn’t know you’d be here, I mean in this house party.” She composed herself and said to Anne, “Anne, curtsy to the Duke of Lynwood.”

Anne curtsied low. “Your Grace,” she said and held out her hand for him. Maximilian took it and lightly touched it to his lips.

“Ah, I see you’ve met my friend, Maximilian Devilyn.” Merrick laughed. “And, Max, this is my ward, Chris Smith.”

Christine bowed her head and said, “Good evening

to you, Your Grace.” When she looked up at him, she had to tilt her head right back because he was very tall, the same height as Merrick, in fact, and was as muscular as well. He was dangerously handsome with his ash blond hair, blue eyes, and strong, angular face. She glanced at Merrick, who was standing beside her, and thought that he too was very handsome indeed, even more so than the Duke of Lynwood in her mind. But to her Merrick didn’t look dangerous, though she reasoned with herself that he could be when he wanted to be. To her right at that moment, Merrick looked big and gentle.

“A good evening to you, too, Chris,” Maximilian said. “The burgundy is good. I like it, and the peonies, too.”

Christine smiled shyly and said, “I’m glad you like it, Your Grace. Mrs. Ross said that it’s your room because you come so often and that you want nothing changed, but I thought that the drapes and sheets were too old, so we bought new ones. I thought you’d like burgundy.”

Merrick was certain of two things then. One was that Max’s room had been refurbished by his ward, and two, that Max liked it. He wasn’t sure what to expect if Max didn’t like the new arrangement. Though they had been friends for ten years, he had never seen Max flare up with anger before, nor had he ever seen the man smile or laugh. Max was always in control of his emotions.

“Dinner is served,” Ross announced at the door.

“Lady Queensbury?” Merrick said to the countess, offering his arm.

“Very good of you, my lord.” She put her hand on his arm as they strolled to the dining room. She saw that the duke was escorting Anne, which caused her to smile in pleasure.

They were on their way into the dining room when

they heard a carriage draw to a screeching stop outside. A footman rushed to open the front door.

“Excuse me,” Merrick said to the countess, bowed, and made his way down to greet the new, unexpected guest.

A woman stepped down from the carriage. Merrick frowned as he made his way toward her. “Maria?” he said in surprise.

She smiled up at him, her green eyes sparkling with pleasure. “My lord, why did you not tell me you were having such a lavish party at your estate? For once, I am very disappointed with you.”

“I did not expect you to be here,” he said to her quietly.

“You know, I do really love parties and yours especially.” She smiled mischievously at him. He watched her making her way up the stairs toward the Hall, her hips swaying from side to side.

“And who is this?” Lady Queensbury uttered at the front door, her face flaming red and her blue eyes narrowed with suspicion as she watched the new guest approaching them.

“Ah, if I’m not mistaken, you are Lady Queensbury. Isn’t that right?” Maria said as she came to stand beside the older woman. “Well, my lord,” she turned to look at Merrick behind her, “will you not introduce me to your other guests?” She raised her thin, shapely red brows at him.

“Maria,” Merrick said in a warning tone of voice.

She ignored him and introduced herself. “I am Lady Maria Ferguson. The earl and I are old friends,” she said, smiling pleasantly at Lady Queensbury.

“I say, Merrick.” Allan advanced toward his cousin. “’Tis getting late, Lady Ferguson must be tired and hungry

after her long journey from London.”

“Why, I certainly agreed with, err…”

“Allan, please. I’m Merrick’s cousin,” Allan replied.

“Ah, my lord, your cousin. He is indeed very charming.” Maria laughed and touched Allan’s arm. She shifted her eyes across the guests and spotted Maximilian.

Her body shook when he saw him staring sharply at her.

“Lord Devil!” she said under her breath.

“Good evening to you, too, Maria,” Max said as he bowed his head.

“Mrs. Ross,” Merrick called to the housekeeper.

“Arrange a guest room for Lady Ferguson.”

“Yes, my lord,” Mrs. Ross said and hurried away.

“Come along, Maria,” Merrick said, leading her into the Hall. *** Christine dashed out of the drawing room, hurried along the corridor, and raced up the stairs toward her room. She was very glad that the evening was over. She was sure she was going to scream like a madwoman if she were to stay and watch those high-society women throwing themselves at Merrick one more minute. They were competing for his attention, she was sure, and they had done it in the most disgusting way, in her mind. They had thrown themselves at him by sweetly talking to him, smiling at him, fluttering their lashes at him, and showing their beautiful white cleavage at him. She shook her head and stalked across the corridor. Aye, she had had enough for one day.

“Master Smith!”

She turned to see an old maid who looked a bit like a witch with a long, thin nose and narrowed, dark eyes watching her.

The maid curtsied and said, “My name is Kate. I am Lady Ferguson’s maid, sir.”

“And?” Christine queried. She did not want to be bothered with anything just at that moment. She just wanted to go to her room and not think about Merrick, who was undoubtedly falling head over heels in love with a witch named Anne Wilson.

“And I was wondering if you could help us, sir.”

“Help you?” Christine narrowed her eyes.

“Aye, sir. You see, Lady Ferguson wondered if you could please help her with something,” the maid said.

What game was this Lady Maria Ferguson playing at, Christine wanted to know.

“All right, Kate. Tell me, and then I’ll see if I can help.”

Kate smiled. “Aye, sir, come with me,” she said and led Christine the way.

The moment Christine stepped into Maria’s room, an overwhelming smell of roses reached her nostrils. She felt the strong aroma oppressing her, and she wanted to gag.

“I have brought Master Smith here, my lady,” the maid said.

Christine adjusted her eyes to the dimly lit room and found Lady Ferguson sitting on a velvet chair in front of the mirror.

“You have come, Master Smith,” the woman said.

Christine widened her eyes. Gosh, but the woman was very beautiful indeed.

“What can I help with?” she asked curtly.

Maria got up and walked toward the table beside the bed. She opened a drawer and took out a sheet of paper that was folded like an envelope. She strolled gracefully toward Christine.

“I want you to take this and give it to Merrick.”

“A letter, is it not?” Christine asked, her eyes on the envelope waving before her as if a child hungrily eyeing sweetmeat that his mother forbade him to have.

“Aye, Master Chris, for Merrick.” She nodded and turned to the maid. “Kate, bring me that reward.”

The maid disappeared into the darkness and returned with a pouch. It looked heavy.

“Here…” Maria handed Christine the letter.

“Don’t forget to give it to Merrick. And this is your reward.” She opened the pouch and gave two pounds to Christine.

When Christine simply stared at the coins, Maria said, “You are the luckiest one of all the children Merrick saved from the streets. He took you in as his own ward and let you stay in this Hall. He could have left you at St. Peter’s House, an orphanage he and the duke created.

Here, take it. You’ll probably need it when he no longer wants you here. Oh, and be sure he reads it.” She grabbed Christine’s hand and dumped the money in her palm. She then turned toward the mirror, dismissing Christine.

Christine wanted to punch the woman in the face.

Maria was insulting her. But the woman was right in a way.

She was only a slum kid Merrick had saved. One day, when he had married Lady Anne, he wouldn’t want her to stick around anymore. The very thought hurt her deeply. She clutched the money in her hands as Kate opened the door for her.

In the corridor, she turned her attention to the letter. She wondered what the contents of that letter contained. Oh, she wondered so much. Mayhap she was inviting him to her room.

She was so busy with her thoughts about the possibilities that the letter contained that she did not realize

she had reached her destination. She opened the door and slid in while still examining the envelope, turning it over in her hands.

“What do you have there, Chris? You seem mighty interested in it.”

She snapped her head up and saw Merrick watching her. “No, ’tis not that interesting. In fact, ’tis for you,” she said as she shoved the letter to him.

Merrick took it. The aroma of roses reached him.

He knew instantly it was from Maria. He unsealed the envelope as Christine shoved past him. He ambled toward the candle to read the message. As usual, she sent her love to him, inviting him to her bed that night.

“I thought I told you not to attend me,” he said and placed the letter into the top drawer next to his bed.

“I know. Did you enjoy dinner?” she asked as she took out his banyan.

“Yes, that I did, and you? You sat so far away from me I didn’t get to talk to you.” He came to stand behind her.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t miss me,” she said. Because

you had all those females throwing themselves at your feet.

She could sense him behind her, and her nerves became tense. She twisted around to face him. “Oh!” He stood there only inches from her. She could feel his warm breath on her forehead. She studied his face. He was handsome, and his eyes, they were so intense and so passionate as he gazed at her. “I—” She shuddered. She felt her knees weaken.

“I should think that you’re tired now. Mayhap you would like to go to bed?”

“What? But, but—” Then realization hit her in the face. He wanted her to leave, so he could go to his mistress, and he and she could—

She bowed her head. “Very well. Besides, I am tired.” She squeezed herself between him and the wardrobe and marched to the door. “Good night, my lord,” she said.

Hope you enjoy sleeping with your woman. She shut the door behind her, refusing to look back at him.

She ran into her room and threw herself onto the bed. She hit the soft pillow as tears poured out of her eyes.

She just couldn’t believe that Merrick had a mistress, this redheaded beauty. She couldn’t believe that he had brought her here and then would sleep with her with the house full of guests. Oh, she hated him. How could he do that? She didn’t want to see him anymore—for the rest of her life, in fact.

She sat up and sniffed. Maybe not seeing him for a while would be for the best. She nodded and decided there and then to go and visit her family at the cottage for a day.

That would surely stop her from thinking about Merrick and his stupidity. What type of a man was he, anyway, to have his future wife under the same roof as his mistress?

The next morning, without telling anyone except for Mr. Jacob, who drove her to the cottage, she visited her family and fully enjoyed her time there with her grandparents, Tyson, and the hounds.

NINE “Send word to Peter, Jacob. I want information in two weeks. Whatever that information may be,” Merrick said as he climbed onto the saddle.

Peter, his private investigator, had sent him a letter a few weeks back telling him that he had information about this case of a missing family, a family with the last name Clarkson that the Earl of Queensbury had requested him to find.

Merrick had asked the earl why he wanted the family found. The old man, however, had refused to give him any more information than the basic facts—that there were four people in the family: one male in his seventies, three females; one in her sixties, one in her late thirties, and one in her late teens or early twenties.

Jacob said, “I must say, the family went missing years ago. They could be anywhere. ’Tis hard work tracking for clues as to their whereabouts, let alone finding them.

For all we know, they could be anywhere in Europe or even in America, what with the war raging on like this.”

“Wherever they are, we’ll find them. I’ve promised Lord Queensbury that I would, and we’ve done this before,” Merrick said, his tone firm as he stared off into the distance, thinking about those times three years ago when Frederic had been kidnapped.

The police had been useless at the time, and so he had to form his own detective team. He was desperate, after all. His son was missing, for God’s sake. Within three months, his team had found the whereabouts of Frederic.

“We’ve done this before, we can do it again,” Jacob commented as he narrowed his eyes at a small figure walking toward the stables. He waved his arm and shouted, “Master Chris!” He turned to Merrick and smiled. “He didn’t tell me when he wanted to come back. It seems he has been walking.”

Merrick gritted his teeth in annoyance. That little brat, he thought, hadn’t even bothered to inform him that he was visiting his family at the cottage yesterday. Merrick himself had been in a panic when he couldn’t find the youth anywhere. The servants had turned the Hall upside down looking for him.

Christine turned to see Mr. Jacob waving at her.

Beside him she saw Merrick and his black stallion. Her heart skipped a beat, and then it started drumming fast.

Her smile froze for he looked as though he was ready to slay her. Even this far away from him, he still had the power to frighten her out of her wits. Yes, she was right. He could look dangerous when he wanted to. She knew she should’ve told him where she was going. But she didn’t want to see him at the time. That was a good enough reason for her.

“Hello, Mr. Jacob. How is your day today?” She smiled sweetly at the stable master, hiding her anxiety underneath and ignoring the angry beast that was ogling her.

“Where have you been?” Merrick scolded.

Christine shuddered at his cold voice. Of course he knew where she had been. He was just taunting her to make her feel sorry for her actions.

“I’m sorry, my lord, that I didn’t tell you I was visiting my family,” she said. His masterly position made her feel even more vulnerable.

“Why so down, Master Chris?” Jacob asked.

“Get back to your work, Jacob,” Merrick said, his eyes still blazing at Christine.

The stable master nodded, smiled reassuringly at Christine, and left them—leaving Merrick’s thunderous silence killing Christine deep down inside.

“Merrick?” she started and licked her lower lip with her small tongue.

“You have the gall to call me Merrick?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry I left without telling you,” she said meekly, and her hands were twitching behind her back.

“Don’t you ever do that again, do you hear?” he gritted out. “I was damn worried.”

Christine winced and peeked up at him for she heard that painful hurt in his voice. When she saw him, he was staring at her intensely, and there in his eyes, she saw it. The grief in his eyes was so raw that she could not find words to describe it. Her heart constricted for his pain, for him. Then she realized that this deep pain within his heart was not because of her at all. She was sure he wasn’t worried about her absence. After all, he had left her here alone for months. It must be something else, or rather someone else. She wondered if one of the women was hurting him. She guessed the person responsible was Lady Anne.

She lightly touched his thigh. She wanted to comfort him, to help ease his pain. He stiffened and shifted his stallion so that her hand slid off his thigh.

“Did somebody hurt you?” she asked, and her voice was sincere and low.

He stared at her. His jaw tightened. “Yes, somebody is hurting me.”

Christine sucked in her breath. So she was right.

Lady Anne was hurting him.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Out!” he replied.

Christine stared at her hand that he had rejected.

So he didn’t want her to comfort him. The realization hit her hard. She felt very desolate indeed.

Merrick turned his stallion and nudged it to go— riding out fast—leaving dust and gusts of wind behind.

Christine stared at the handsome figure of man and horse galloping farther away. Tears spilled from her eyes.

She hid in desolation, crying for an hour. When all her tears were drained, she ran back to the Hall. She approached the back door and heard noises in the kitchen.

She knew Mrs. Ross was organizing the menu for dinner again with Mrs. Thompson, the cook. She poked her head in the kitchen, and sure enough, Mrs. Ross and Mrs. Thompson were seated on the far side of the table discussing the menu. She saw Betty peeling potatoes, humming to herself. She was turning to leave when Betty saw her.

“Master Chris.” The maid dropped the knife and potato.

Christine raised her brows in question as the maid ran to her.

Betty stopped and moved her head about in every direction, looking to see if anyone was around. She ignored both the housekeeper and the cook for they weren’t paying them any attention.

“What is it?” Christine asked.

“Well, you see, Master Chris, it’s about the bet,” Betty whispered.

“The bet, I see,” Christine replied but was not seeing where this was going at all.

“Master Chris, what’s wrong? Why are your eyes all wet, and you look like you’ve been crying?”

“It’s nothing.” Christine turned her face away.

“But, Master Chris, you have been crying.” The maid tried to turn Christine to face her, but the other girl wouldn’t cooperate.

Both the cook and the housekeeper stopped their discussion and turned to look at Christine.

“Betty is right, Master Chris, you don’t look right there. Tell us what’s wrong,” Mrs. Ross said.

The cook snorted. “Come tell us, Master Chris.

Tell us who bullied you,” she said, folding her arms about her large bosom.

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Christine replied.

“Come now, you must sit down.” Betty led Christine to the chair next to Mrs. Ross. She seated Christine there and placed herself on the next chair. “Then tell us what’s wrong,” Betty suggested.

“Well, actually nobody has hurt me directly, but you see, somebody has hurt someone I care about, and it kind of hurt me as well,” she said, looking down at the table, thinking about Merrick.

“I see. Tell us who this person you care about is,” Mrs. Ross put in.

Christine shook her head. “Oh, I can’t. That is, I don’t want to.”

“That won’t help much. Why don’t you tell us who this person that hurt the person you care about is?” Betty carried on.

“Oh no, I can’t do that either.” Christine thought seriously if she were to tell everybody that it was Lady Anne then, Lord, what would happen?

Mr. Sam, the head gardener, poked his head in through the door at that moment.

“Hello, everybody, what’s going on?” he asked innocently.

“Master Chris needs help,” Betty answered.

“Does he now?” Mr. Sam straightened and walked toward them. He came to sit opposite Christine and then leaned forward. “Tell me, Master Chris, what’s bothering you?”

“It’s nothing really.” Christine tried to smile.

“Somebody hurt someone that he cares about,” Betty supplied.

“Really? And who is this someone you care about, and who is this other someone that hurt that someone that you care about?” Mr. Sam asked.

“He can’t tell us, Mr. Sam. Come to think of it, it could be any one of us.” Betty placed a finger to her lips, contemplating the situation seriously.

“Aye, now that I think about it, it must be someone in the Hall or at least someone who Master Chris knows of, right?” the cook said, nodding her head.

“That’s right,” Betty agreed.

“So you can’t tell us who this person is?” Mr. Sam asked.

Christine shook her head. She really didn’t know whether to laugh or cry for the path this situation was taking.

“I know,” Mr. Sam boomed out.

“You know what?” Mrs. Ross asked.

“I know what to do,” Mr. Sam said, smiling with mischief.

“And what would that be?” Betty asked, getting quite excited.

“That is easy, you see. Master Chris, you said this

someone hurt this other someone that you care about, and does that hurt you too then?” He saw Christine nod. “I see.

Then what you must do is to get even.” He nodded his head as though this was a sound solution.

“What do you mean, get even?” Christine asked.

“Don’t listen to him. Mr. Sam, I think it’s about time you leave us to our work, and you get back to your gardening,” Mrs. Ross ordered, standing.

“What he means is, Master Chris, to seek revenge,” Betty explained, nodding her head.

“Oh!” Christine was dumbfounded.

“Mr. Sam, did you hear what I said?” Mrs. Ross asked.

Mr. Sam got up from his seat and nodded his head in the affirmative.

“Well, then, hope my advice helps,” he said and turned toward the door. “Oh wait, I was here for something. Master Chris, can you help us tomorrow? I’m rounding up some people to help clean the pond in the east garden. It hasn’t been attended to for a long time, now that I think of it. His lordship wants it cleaned up for the guests and the house party, you know. I was wondering if you could supervise us. You’re good with designing and all.

And Mr. Ross told me the earl liked what you did to the Hall.”

“You want me to help?” Christine asked.

“Aye, Master Chris, err, tomorrow, all right?”

When he saw Christine nod, Mr. Sam turned and left the kitchen.

Christine was following Mr. Sam out the door when Betty called to her. “Master Chris, where are you going? Wait, I need your help, too.”

Christine stopped in her tracks, waiting for Betty to catch up to her. Betty caught up and led Christine outside

to some bushes where no one could see them.

“What’s this about, Betty? Is it that bet thing again?” Christine asked, wondering what she could do to help.

“Oh yes, Master Chris, it’s about the bet. See, I want your help.”

“But I don’t know what I could do to help,” Christine interjected.

“Please, would you help me? I really want to win that bet,” Betty pleaded.

Christine nodded her head in understanding. But then there was no way Betty was going to win since she, as well as everyone else, knew that Merrick was in love with Lady Anne and would soon ask her to marry him. There was simply nothing Betty could do to win.

Betty took a deep breath and said, “I want you to help me get rid of Lady Anne.”

Christine’s eyes widened. “What? You can’t do that, Betty. ’Tis truly out of the question. You just can’t kill someone, especially if that person is Lady Anne.” Christine shrieked, thinking that Betty was truly mad. However, Lady Anne truly deserved some punishment for hurting Merrick.

“Wait, Master Chris, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is play tricks on her. Show his lordship what she truly is like. Do you get what I mean now?”

“What do you mean, play tricks on her?” Christine asked, still confused but relieved at the same time for it was not murder Betty was thinking about.

“What I mean is we make the earl see that Lady Anne is a spoiled brat. If we play tricks on her, she would probably show her spoiled behavior, and then perhaps the earl wouldn’t love her anymore. Do you see what I mean now? Please, Master Chris, you have got to help me,” Betty

begged.

Christine stared at Betty. Then she smiled and nodded her head, her eyes glinting.

Betty breathed a sight of relief. “Thank you, Master Chris, you are a lifesaver. Now that we are agreed, our plan must start immediately.” *** “Merrick, you are back,” his cousin called out.

Mr. McNaught jumped up from his seat and advanced toward Merrick.

“Ah, my lord, been to see your tenants, have you?

How good of you. I hardly ever go to see mine. I suppose that’s why they don’t like me,” he chuckled.

“Paying attention to your tenants’ problems and solving them creates a kind of trust, Mr. McNaught. How was your journey, by the way?” Merrick asked.

“Hot and very uncomfortable,” the older man grumbled.

“Traveling is always uncomfortable for you, dear, when you don’t have your damn brandy with you,” Mrs. McNaught snapped. “I assure you, my lord, this man is going to die early, and I won’t pity him one bit.” She laughed, her croaky voice rumbling along as her large bosoms bounced up and down.

“How are you, Mrs. McNaught?” Merrick greeted, extending his hand. She slowed her laugh and placed her plump hand on his palm. He bowed his head and brought her hand to his lips.

“Your Hall, if I may compliment, is very fetching, my lord. I must say, your way of fashioning the Hall is completely different from your father in style, though, such beautiful taste, very modern indeed,” she said, nodding her

head.

Merrick smiled. “It was not me who fashioned the Hall, Mrs. McNaught. ’Twas my ward, Chris Smith.”

“Really?” The woman raised her brows. “Well, I must tell him of his good taste when I see him.”

Merrick saw Mrs. Vander and her daughter heading toward them. He bowed and extended his hands toward her. “Welcome, Mrs. Vander.”

The woman curtsied to him and placed her hand into his palm. He lifted it to his lips, kissed it, and turned to Amelia. “Ah, Amelia, how are you, my dear?”

The girl gazed up at him shyly. She placed her hand into his, and he kissed it. “I’m very well, my lord,” she said.

“Very good. I do hope you will enjoy staying in my home.”

“I am sure I will,” she commented. He nodded in agreement and advanced toward Alex and Mr. Vander sitting on the sofa near the window.

“My lord, it has been a long time,” Mr. Vander said, standing up and slapping the younger man on the back.

“Yes, it has,” Merrick replied.

“My lord.” Alex stood up and nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“Alex, how are you? Oxford going all right?”

Merrick asked.

“Yes, my lord, it is going very well,” Alex replied, smiling at the man he so admired in both intelligence and looks.

Merrick turned toward Mrs. Anderson and her niece, Miss Green, sitting on the sofa. “And how are you both?” he asked, extending his hand first to Mrs. Anderson.

She placed her hand into his, and he kissed it. He then turned toward Miss Green. He stared into her pale blue

eyes and smiled.

She smiled back at him, feeling breathless. It wasn’t everyday that a handsome earl smiled at her. This was once in a lifetime, and she took full advantage of it. Her smile was radiant. She slowly placed her hand into his, and he kissed it. “I hope you too will enjoy staying here,” he said.

“Why, indeed we shall, my lord,” she told him, finding it difficult even to breathe, let alone think of what to say.

Anne, who was sitting on the other side of the room, didn’t like the way Merrick was paying too much attention to a mere Miss Green. She was jealous. She walked to them, intending to cut off their greetings, which in her mind were going on far too long already. Once she was beside Merrick, she hooked her arm under his.

Merrick turned from Miss Green to see Anne beside him. He raised a brow. “Did you have a good time picnicking today?”

“Oh yes, very much.” She stared down at Miss Green, and her eye and expression clearly warned Miss Green to leave Merrick alone. Miss Green saw that look and understood as clear as crystal. Anne smiled. Victory was on her side.

“But,” she continued sweetly, “it wasn’t that much fun. Nothing much was happening. It was rather boring, really. Oh, if only you had been there, my lord, it would’ve been much more fun,” she moaned.

“Yes, Merrick, you’ve made the ladies quite disappointed,” Maximilian said.

“I must say, my lord, your garden is very beautiful indeed,” Mrs. Anderson said, looking out the window from where she sat.

“I do agree there,” Mrs. McNaught put in.

“Perhaps we could have a picnic tomorrow in your garden.

I’m sure that will satisfy everybody.” She looked pointedly at Anne.

“Ah, a picnic tomorrow. That would be wonderful,” Allan commented, clapping his hands together.

“Picnic tomorrow it is, then.” Merrick nodded in agreement, eyeing Maximilian, who raised his eyebrows at him. “Perhaps the ladies would like to freshen up before dinner?”

They all agreed, and once the room was quiet, Merrick took a seat opposite his friend. He was sipping his wine when Maximilian said, “Honestly, Merrick, are you testing your future bride’s love?”

Merrick nearly choked on his wine. He wiped his lips and said, “What are you on about?”

“Why are there so many young misses in your house? Merrick, you’ll make your future bride jealous,” Maximilian warned.

“That’s a load of nonsense. I haven’t proposed to Anne yet.”

“Not nonsense, my friend. They’ll kill each other for your attention. Believe me, I’m the top rakehell in all England. I know how women behave when they are together and trying to win an earl—a very rich one at that.

You are the grand prize, Merrick. Trust me. Why do you think Maria is here in the first place? I’m sure she is in the competition, too.”

“How do you know of all this?” Merrick asked, eyeing his friend.

Maximilian stretched his back. “I know,” he said.

“Just wait until tomorrow, Merrick. That’s when the real competition begins.”

“What’s this about a competition? The race, was it?” Allan asked as he came to sit with them.

“Yes, a mare competing for a stallion,” Maximilian said.

Allan chuckled. “You mean a horse-racing competition?”

“And you, Allan,” Maximilian said, looking at Allan pouring himself a glass of whisky. “Which one of those girls is to be your bride?”

Allan shook his head. “No, Your Grace. None of them, I believe, is going to be my future bride.” He turned to Merrick. “Not until I get my fortune first with the new factory I’m planning to build.”

“What factory is this?” Maximilian asked.

“No factory just yet,” Merrick said, got up, and strolled out the door.

TEN They were spending a very long time talking, Anne thought angrily. She chanced another look at them. Lord, they were standing outrageously close to each other for her taste. She didn’t like the way Maria was hovering around Merrick.

She had better do something quickly before this went any further, or her chance of marriage to the earl would be in jeopardy. Purposefully, she got up and strolled toward them.

She said, “Oh dear, I do hope I’m not interrupting your very earnest discussion, my lord, Lady Ferguson?” She smiled innocently and stole Merrick’s arm from Maria.

“No, indeed not,” Merrick replied. “Shall we, then?” he said and turned to Maria. “Later, Maria.”

She smiled and winked at him.

“What was the topic of your discussion, my lord?”

Anne asked as they made their way back toward the others.

“Nothing important,” he replied, leading her to one of the empty seats.

“Such a lovely day, is it not?” Anne said.

“Yes, it is,” Merrick replied, reaching for the pie.

“How very fascinating. What are they doing, do you suppose?” Miss Green said, looking at five men carrying dead branches and buckets of dirt out of the muddy pond.

Merrick turned his attention to Miss Green. He saw her looking toward the east side of the estate. He looked in that direction, and indeed he saw five men, or rather, four big men and a slender youth, working. Merrick frowned when he saw Christine jumping into the pond and dragging a branch out that was far too heavy and far too big for her to carry.

The guests were at first very interested in what the men were doing. Merrick explained to them that they were cleaning the pond. They all agreed that it was going to look splendid. After a while they lost their interest, though Merrick, on the other hand, found himself glancing in that direction searching for Christine just to see what she was doing next.

“It is that Chris?” Max asked, his sharp eyes on his friend.

“Hmm.” “How old is he?” Max leaned back and rested his weight on his elbow. He watched Christine wiping her forehead with her dirty sleeve.

“Fifteen or thereabout,” Merrick said, watching her as she grabbed a bunch of weeds and threw them beside her.

Max turned to look at his friend. He narrowed his eyes and said, “A bit small, don’t you think?”

Merrick did not drop his gaze as he said, “He’s malnourished, Max. Lady Luck is looking after him. I found his boss whipping him the day I came to Huntingdon Hall.”

“Ah, so the noble Merrick saved the day,” Max said, raising his brows. “Rather cute. That backside, too.”

Merrick turned to his friend. “Hell, Max! What in heaven are you on about now?” he growled.

The guests turned to look at him.

He smiled in their direction to assure them that nothing was out of the ordinary, and they returned to their conversations.

“Nothing. I just like your ward. Speaking of him, why is he helping them? Shouldn’t he be here with us?”

Merrick raked his hands through his dark hair.

“Hell, I don’t know.”

But then how could he when he had been avoiding his ward ever since yesterday noon?

Max saw the distress in his friend’s eyes. He said, “Interesting,” and turned to watch Christine chat animatedly with a male worker.

“What’s so interesting there?” Anne asked.

Max stood up.

“Where are you going?” Merrick said. Max shrugged and walked off.

Jane said, “I think His Grace is talking about the servants working in that pond. I think he’s going to observe them.”

Anne said, “There is nothing interesting about—” “Oh, I do think that it is very interesting indeed.”

Jane turned to Merrick and said, “Will you accompany me to see what they are doing?”

“My pleasure,” Merrick responded and stood up.

Anne frowned. “Wait, umm, I shall accompany you, too, dear cousin.”

“If you will all excuse us for just a few moments,” Merrick said to his guests. They nodded back at him.

The three people ambled toward the east estate, where an enormous commotion was happening. Merrick was in the middle with the two beautiful women on either side of him. They made a very beautiful picture. The guests wondered which woman would win the earl’s affection in this round.

On the other side of the garden, Christine was busy dragging out dead branches from within the muddy pond.

It was hard work, and her hands were now sore. Sweat ran down the side of her face, down her neck, and about her chest, which worsened her discomfort due to the binding.

She had found that she couldn’t bear just standing there and ordering them about without doing the work herself, as Mr. Sam had suggested she should do. Nay, she was a hands-on type of person, and so against Mr. Sam’s protest, she had jumped into the pond with her Hessian boots, wool breeches, and starched white shirt and started working alongside the men. Now she was dirty everywhere.

“You all right there, Chris?” Max asked, smiling with amusement as he watched her work.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she puffed out without looking round.

“I think you need some help,” he said. He came to stand right behind her and put both of his hands on top of hers.

Christine stiffened. “Oh, I think I’m all right,” she said and tried to push him away.

“Don’t worry. You look like you need some help.

Now on three, and we’ll pull together,” Max suggested.

“All right then,” Christine said and nodded at the same time. She shifted herself from side to side to get ready.

Max said, “All right, here we go. One, two, three— ” “Chris! What are you doing?” Merrick barked. His shouting took both Max and Christine by surprise so that the force of their energy was more than they expected. The branch flew out of the dirt. The impact threw them backward. Max hit the dirty ground on his back with Christine on top of him, her back laying intimately on his

chest.

“Hell, Max!” Merrick shouted again, and his cold voice caused the two women standing beside him to stiffen.

Christine looked up. She saw the bright blue sky above her. She blinked and tried to take it all in for the situation was very confusing to her. She had heard Merrick shouting at her. His deep voice had surprised her so much that she fell. And now she was lying on top of a man in this very unladylike fashion. Not that it mattered, of course, since she was, after all, supposed to be a male.

She pushed herself up and sat on top of Max’s hard belly. She looked up at Merrick. He looked like he wanted to murder somebody, and that somebody was most likely her. Then she saw Lady Anne standing beside him. The woman was staring down at her with distaste.

“Really, my lord, I see nothing of interest here,” Anne announced. She did not want to get her creamy pink gown, so new and so very expensive, dirty from these lowlife people—like the duke was doing.

“Explain what is going on here,” Merrick asked, ignoring Anne’s plea.

Max sat up. The action caused Christine’s bottom to slide into the crook of his thigh.

Merrick wanted to kill his friend. “I demand an explanation!” he boomed again, striding toward them.

Christine was confused about what they were supposed to be explaining. Max lifted her like a wee girl from his thigh and placed her in the dirt. Merrick fisted his hands. He wanted to punch his friend.

Max stood up then and stretched his back.

“Merrick, I didn’t know you didn’t want the ladies to see us working like this. We were just trying to clean up the pond.”

“We?” Merrick snapped. “Where the hell do you

come into this, Max? Since when did you become so helpful?”

“Hey, calm down, friend. I was just getting to know your ward a little better,” Max said.

“You’re dirty, Max. Get yourself cleaned up,” Merrick said. “Chris! Come here!” he commanded.

Slowly, Christine lifted herself up. By now, all her clothing was filthy. Her face was covered with dirt. She doubted that she looked anything like a human being— more like a monster from the dirty pond.

She came to him. “My lord?” she asked innocently.

She did not look up at him. She would not dare do that.

He would probably kill her with his stare.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m here to help clean up the pond,” she told him with her head bowed as she stared at her muddy Hessian boots.

“I don’t remember this being one of your duties,” he said sarcastically.

“It’s Mr. Sam. He came yesterday and wanted me to help if I was free. Well, I am.” She looked up then, and her eyes widened when she saw Max. “Oh, God, it’s you that helped me? I’m sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t mean to make you get all dirty. Honestly I didn’t.” She bit her lip.

“It’s all right, Chris,” Max said and laughed.

Merrick said, “This is no place for you, Chris. Go and clean up now.”

Christine just stared at him. Then she said, “But, my lord, Mr. Sam needs help.”

“No, Mr. Sam has enough help.”

“But, my lord—” “’Tis not done, my lord,” Anne butted in, disgusted at the way Merrick was treated by his ward.

“Chris, I ordered you to go,” Merrick said.

“But,” Christine began and then shut her mouth when she saw the murderous look he gave her. What could she do? She did not want to go disobeying him, though it looked like she was doing just that. She had promised to help Mr. Sam. She was not going to go back on her word.

She glanced at Lady Anne, who was watching like she was already Merrick’s wife and the mistress of the house and she, Christine, was one of her servants who she really disliked. The woman looked beautiful with that creamy pink gown. Her golden blond hair was coiffured with curls high on her head, and her skin was flawless and clean. She glanced at Jane. She too was charming with her hair falling delicately about her shoulders. Her blue gown molded around her body snugly and beautifully. She was smiling at Christine, but at that moment Christine did not welcome it. In fact, she hated it. These women were beautiful and clean, not dirty like her. Suddenly, her chest felt very tight.

Then she remembered what Mr. Sam had said about revenge. And then there was Betty.

Just this morning when Betty had found out that the guests were going to have a picnic in this very garden, the maid had devised hundreds of devious plans for her to perform. She remembered one of them very clearly. It was supposed to be a jest, but now it did not seem like a jest to her anymore.

“Master Chris, a little help over here,” Mr. Sam shouted from the other side. He was still in the dark as to what was happening and didn’t give a damn.

Christine turned to see Mr. Sam waving his arm wildly at her, signaling for her to come and help him dig up the dirt. She nodded at him and then turned back to look up at the angry beast.

Merrick saw the signal and narrowed his eyes.

She stared up at him, showing very clearly the

stubbornness in her eyes. “I have to go help,” she said as she backed away.

Merrick advanced a step forward.

Christine’s heart did a startled kick.

Max watched, his eyes sharp.

“Chris, I warn you,” Merrick said.

Christine took another backward step. Then she took a big deep breath, turned, and ran in the opposite direction.

“Chris!” Merrick barked. “Chris! You come back here!”

Max roared with laughter. Merrick shoved his friend in the arm to make the man stop. Max did and shook his head. “You’ve found your match, Merrick,” his friend said, and Merrick wanted to punch him.

Christine did not look back. She ran to Mr. Sam. Once there, she heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that Merrick would not come after her into this dirt. He would not get himself dirty just because she did not obey him.

“You need help, Mr. Sam?” she asked, looking down at the old man in the big hole he had made.

“Ah, Master Chris, I want you to shovel the dirt for a while. I need to go for a leak,” he said and pushed himself up. He seated himself on the edge of the hole, wiping his dirty face with his dirtier hands. “All right, Master, off you go,” he said, nodding.

Christine seated herself on the rim of the hole, and Mr. Sam took off. She watched as he rushed toward the far side where there were many bushes. He was in such a hurry that he tripped on the dirt and fell flat on his face. He pushed himself up, looked around wildly, and went off again.

Christine giggled as she watched him disappear into the bushes. She proceeded to lower her body into the hole.

She was sliding down smoothly when she felt her body being lifted up. She looked about her in confusion and then realized that there were large, strong hands beneath her armpits. She tipped her head backward, and, to her horror, she saw teal-blue eyes burning fierily down at her.

Merrick lifted her back up. Her light weight was nothing against his superior strength.

Christine panicked when she realized Merrick was serious. He came after her whether there was dirt or not.

Panicked, she wiggled her body, making herself slip from his grip.

Merrick guessed her tactics. He held on to her arms tighter, causing her to flinch. With one pull, he dragged her body back against his so that she lay in the crook of his body, on top of him as he hit the dirty ground, his outfit getting filthy all over.

“Oh my God!” Anne exclaimed. “My lord, are you all right?” she shrieked as she hopped about on her spot.

She was scared of getting her gown dirty but wanted to go to the earl and kick that damn kid out of his arms at the same time. She thought their position was horrendously uncalled for. It didn’t help her temper either with the duke laughing so loudly beside her.

Christine fought her way from Merrick’s arms, trying hard to get away from him. He caught her arm and forced her down against him. Her head smashed against the base of his neck, and her back collided with his chest.

Christine could feel his manly strength against her thin arms and back. She pushed herself up so that he would let her go, but the action caused her pain as her head hit his chin. She thought she had hurt him. She was so scared that she turned to look at him.

“My lord, are you all right?” she asked.

“Where do think you are going, brat?” he said.

Christine tried to wrestle against his strong hands, but it did not seem to work. By chance, she managed to sit up. She was sitting across his waist, her legs on either side of his body.

Merrick dropped his head back to the ground.

Something was nagging at him. Something was very wrong indeed. But right then he couldn’t think what. All he knew right then was that his ward had disobeyed him, and this ward needed some discipline.

He loosened his grip on her arms.

Christine knew it was her only chance of escape.

She gathered all her strength and was about to dash up when Merrick’s reflexes took hold. He grabbed both her arms and threw her back against the dirt, forcing her to lie below him.

Her head hit the ground with a thud. She found that he was imprisoning her below him.

They stared at each other, their faces inches apart, their breath warm on each other’s faces.

Merrick stared at her, at the bright eyes, at the flushed cheeks, and at the full lips. He wanted to kiss those lips. He wanted to bury his fingers in that thick mop of curls and do things to his ward, things that he would do tonight to Maria.

He grunted loudly in frustration and in anger for thinking such sinful thoughts. He stood up and looked down at her. He said, “Don’t disobey me again, Chris.

Don’t make me do things I’d regret.” Then he walked away.

Christine closed her eyes as he departed. He was angry with her. What did she do wrong? She sat up and stared at his handsome form walking toward the two beautiful women. Just look at them, she thought. They looked exquisite standing there with their pretty gowns and

high-fashioned hair. She felt like a monster from the dirty pond. For the first time in her life, she understood envy, and she didn’t like the feeling one bit.

She got up, stalked to the hole, and jumped down.

She angrily picked up the shovel and started digging. She stared at the dirt. Then slowly she smiled. Determinedly, she drove the shovel into the dirt. She stamped her foot on it, forcing it to go deeper. Then she lifted the shovel. It was full of smelly pond dirt. She peeped up at the four occupants still on the far side. She saw Merrick cleaning his clothing while the two women helped with their small, delicate handkerchiefs. She had one shot at them, and she had better make a good attempt at hitting the target. Then with all her might, she threw the dirt in their direction.

The lump of dirt flew into the air and hit its target.

Max widened his eyes when his saw the bomb coming. He shifted his body just so. The attack missed him by an inch. Most of the dirt hit Anne. Her beautiful gown turned a muddy mess. Anne opened her mouth in shock and then screamed. Some of the dirt hit Merrick. Instantly, his eyes darted toward the hole, and he caught Christine looking at them with a smirk playing about her face. A small amount of the dirt hit Jane. She looked at it in confusion and said, “Oh dear.”

“My lord, ’tis outrageous. My God, look at what that ward of yours has done,” Anne raved, half crying, one of her hands pulling at Merrick’s sleeve. “My lord, you must do something,” she said. “Why, just look at my gown.

My lord, do something.” Anne stamped her feet.

By now, the guests had arrived, wondering what all the commotion was about. “What’s going on here?” Lady Queensbury asked.

“Mama, look at my gown. I can’t believe this, Mama. He did it.” Anne pointed a finger at Christine, who

had resumed digging the dirt, pretending not to have noticed anything amiss.

Lady Queensbury thinned her lips. She turned to Merrick and said, “Really, my lord, this is outrageous. I must say, sir, you must do something about this.”

Max raised his eyebrows at her. Lady Queensbury became flustered because of the stare.

Merrick was oblivious to his surroundings. He was still staring at his ward digging the dirt. In his mind’s eye, he kept playing that image of Christine smirking at him after she had thrown the dirt at them. It was obvious to him that she had done it on purpose.

Anne was still pulling at his arm, trying to get his attention. Merrick heard Allan laugh wholeheartedly.

“Well, Merrick, I dare say this is very entertaining indeed.”

“I don’t think it is entertaining, Allan.” Merrick frowned at his cousin. “I suggest you two ladies go up and change,” he said, still staring at the brown curls of a head popping up and down in the hole.

“The earl is right, Jane. Let’s get that gown off you,” Mrs. Wilson said and then led her daughter toward the Hall.

“Come along now, Anne, you must get out of that gown,” Lady Queensbury said, pulling her daughter behind her. The crowd left, leaving Merrick still staring at Christine with a murderous expression on his face.

Max slapped his friend’s shoulder and said, “Spank the behind. Don’t touch the head or that slender back. I like that mop of brown curls.” And then he walked away.

“Chris, come here,” Merrick called.

Christine looked up. She tiredly threw away the shovel and climbed out of the hole. She slowly walked toward him. Once in front of him, she stopped.

“My lord?” she began. She did not dare look up at

him.

“Hear this, brat, you have been warned. Don’t you ever do that again, not in front of all my guests. And especially do not attack me and my guests. Do you understand me?” he scolded.

Mutely, she nodded her head.

“I don’t ever want to see you behaving in such a way again, do you hear me?” he demanded.

Again, she nodded her head.

He took three strides toward the Hall before he turned around and added, in a very serious voice, “In fact, Chris, ’tis better if you return to the cottage.”

Tears misted her eyes. So that day had come, the day that he no longer wanted her here. It had come sooner than she had expected. Her heart shattered. Mutely, she nodded again for she could not speak. It was too much.

Merrick saw the mist in her eyes. He wanted to wipe it away but couldn’t for it was wrong. He turned to go without a backward glance.

Christine blinked, causing tears to spill down her dirty face. She sniffed and wiped them away with her sleeves.

“Whoa, what’s wrong, Master Chris?” Mr. Sam asked once he had returned, having missed out on the action.

Christine turned to him and sobbed. “It’s his lordship. He doesn’t want me here anymore.”

Mr. Sam’s mouth dropped opened. He scratched his head. He didn’t understand anything.

Christine felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Mr. Jacob standing behind her. “I’m sorry, Master Chris,” he said.

Christine shook her head.

“Now, Master Chris, I think you should go and

clean up, you know, to maybe feel better,” Mr. Sam suggested. Christine nodded and then ran back to the Hall. *** Christine ran straight to her bedroom and requested a bath.

Emma and Betty quickly made her one, questioning her red eyes and sorrow-filled face. Once the warm bath was ready, she dismissed them. Alone, she bathed, scrubbing herself as she cried, tears flowing down her pink cheeks like a waterfall. After twenty minutes of vigorous scrubbing and telling herself how much she hated Merrick, her body was red all over, and her tears were all gone. She sighed and got out off the bathtub.

No, no, she shouldn’t hate Merrick, she told herself. He was a very kind man; otherwise, he would never have taken her in and employed her grandpapa. Aye, she told herself, she had been foolish to have treated his guests in such a way. It was she who was in the wrong. She must go to him and apologize. After all the good things that he had done for her, she must return his kindness and protect him from the callous Lady Anne Wilson. Her mind made up, she dressed quickly and went to Merrick’s door.

She turned the doorknob quickly before she got scared and changed her mind. She slid into Merrick’s sitting room and closed the door behind her.

She stood still, her back to the door, contemplating what to do next. Then slowly, she tiptoed toward the door of the adjoining room. Gently, she turned the doorknob.

Ever so slightly, she pushed it open and then poked her head in. Her eyes searched the large room from corner to corner, scanning very slowly, and then she saw him.

Her breath caught at the back of her throat. Her eyes widened in shock for in the very corner of the room

she saw Merrick with Lady Ferguson.

She was looking at his muscular, bare back. He was holding on to Maria, his strong arm around her body. He made sensual sounds from deep within his throat. A sound that made Christine’s head spin. She saw that Maria’s gown was down about her waist. The top half of her body was bare. Christine swallowed. In all her young life, she had never known two people could be so close together.

She saw Merrick’s mouth move down the length of Maria’s delicate throat, kissing it sweetly, down toward her breasts.

Christine closed her eyes. Her breathing became short and fast, and somehow, she had difficulty breathing.

Merrick was kissing Maria’s breast, but somehow her own breasts too tingled. They hardened, pushing against the binding. And it hurt.

Merrick closed his eyes at the beautiful, intense feelings he was having while he was with Maria, and the feelings washed over him. Ah, Maria. Her sweetness filled him with wonder.

She had been in his room, waiting for him while he had been outside dealing with his ward. She had started to seduce him once he had entered the room. Before long, the heat inside him had started to rise, and now he wanted her.

This was good, he thought, because Maria seducing him and arousing him proved that he wasn’t homosexual, that he didn’t prefer men over woman.

He kissed her and closed his eyes. In his mind’s eye, he saw her staring up at him with love. It was Angela. She was stroking the side of his face. Suddenly, Angela’s face disappeared, and now before him was another face. It was his ward. He felt small hands stroking his thick hair. He felt small arms wrapped around his neck, pushing that slim body closer to him.

He stopped the kiss and opened his eyes. Maria stared up at him in confusion. Merrick gritted his teeth in anger. He had thought that he had proved that his lust for his ward had only been his imagination, but he was wrong.

It was real. Damn real!

He released Maria, who suddenly felt cold and lost.

He turned, and that was when he saw her. He grunted and stalked to the door. He didn’t halt. Once he got there, he dragged her to the sitting room, his strong grip hurting her delicate skin. He dumped her on the sofa and stood glaring at her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped.

Christine winced. Lord, she had never seen him this angry before. She tried to summon her courage to shout back. She swallowed hard and whispered, “I was here to—” “To what?” he boomed at her.

She looked up at him then, her eyes teary and her cheeks red, for the scene she had just encountered still played fresh in her mind. She was afraid to look at his face, and so she looked at his broad chest instead. It was massive and so beautiful she had that urge to put her hand there and do what Maria had just done to him. She wanted to touch him so badly that it hurt her not to do it. She frowned at her own stupid feelings.

“Well?” he pressed.

“I was here—” Suddenly she was angry. It was too much for one morning. She wouldn’t allow him to treat her this way. She was so angry that she didn’t care what the hell happened anymore. So she pushed herself up to stand on the settee.

That took Merrick by surprise. He saw her blushing cheeks. They begged to be touched and caressed.

He, of course, knew the reason for the blush. He noted that determined spark in her eyes. Suddenly, he felt a glow of

pride.

“I’m here to apologize,” she announced, tilting her chin a few inches higher, though her shaky voice betrayed her confidence.

“I see.”

“Merrick, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” she told him.

Merrick raised his brows, and his look of indifference angered her. So he didn’t care about her anymore? “Oh, I hate you,” she whispered to herself, and it was not intended for him to overhear.

“You hate me?”

He heard that? She bit her lip.

“Merrick, I do not think Master Smith did anything wrong,” Maria said as she came toward them. Her gown was back to normal, and her hair was in good order as if nothing had happened earlier.

“I don’t think you need to get into this.” Merrick frowned at his mistress.

Christine scowled. She didn’t like the way Maria was acting, rubbing her damn beautiful body against Merrick.

“So do you accept my apology?” she sobbed.

“Aye, Chris, I accept your apology. Now come down here.”

Christine jumped down from the settee and turned to Maria. She stared at the older woman straight in the eye and said, “You, leave now.”

“Chris, this is going a bit too far,” Merrick warned.

“You! I said leave.” Christine ignored Merrick. She wanted to be alone with him, and she didn’t understand why.

Maria didn’t move. She knew she had the upper hand. After all, she was the earl’s mistress. To show her

power, she leaned her head against Merrick’s arm, rubbing her face against his muscular shoulder seductively. As she was doing so, her eyes mocked Christine, daring her to do something about it.

Christine’s heart drummed so hard within her chest she thought it might pop out any moment now. She looked at Merrick and saw him smiling at the woman. It was very painful to watch. She hated the way he was smiling at that woman. Suddenly, she felt that things were getting out of hand. She caught Maria’s arm and pulled her away from Merrick. The action was so fast that it took Maria by surprise. The woman actually looked confused.

Merrick frowned at her. Christine didn’t care, however, and her fingers bit onto Maria’s delicate skin.

Then she literally attempted to drag Maria from the room.

Maria, on the other hand, tried to pull herself back in the opposite direction, her other free hand reaching for Merrick.

“Merrick, help,” she cried.

“Chris, that is enough,” Merrick said.

Christine wasn’t listening, however. All she knew was that she wanted to kick this woman out, and so she dragged Maria to the door. Maria refused to leave and held tightly onto the doorframe, trying to stay inside. The two bodies were pulling each other back and forth. Their tugof-war was endless.

Merrick had had enough. He decided to straighten things out. With two long strides, he reached them. He took hold of their hands and broke the contact. He said to Christine, “Enough is enough, Chris.” He shoved her hand away and led Maria out into the corridor.

Maria smiled. Aye, she had gotten the upper hand all right.

“Go now. I need to deal with this ward of mine. I

will see you tonight,” he said. As he turned, he caught Christine looking at them. He stalked to the door and jerked it open. Christine backed away, feeling very alarmed at the look he was giving her.

“I told you I do not tolerate disobedience,” he stated coldly.

She blinked.

He slowly moved toward his pitiful prey. He had had enough for one morning. He realized that his ward was stubborn. And this ward also needed a good spanking on the backside that was far too long overdue. And who better to do it than himself?

His eyes flashed a dark flame of teal blue.

Christine caught her breath. She saw the flame inside his eyes, and her heart did a somersault in response.

She bit her lower lip, wondering what she should do.

She took a step back.

He noted that step.

She took another step back and turned her head to see the open bedroom door, the exit.

Merrick narrowed his eyes.

Christine took a deep breath and dashed toward the exit.

She took two strides when a pair of strong hands gripped painfully about her arms and jerked her backward.

Her back collided against the wall of his massive, hard chest. She struggled and fought with all her might against the giant man who had captured her.

Merrick’s grip tightened as she fought harder. He pulled her body against the strong length of him. He lowered his hand down to her knees, jerked her light weight up into his arms, and carried her toward the bedroom.

She tried to make him put her down by drumming

her fists against his shoulder. “Put me down, put me down.

Put me down right this instant. You hear me?” she cried in his arms.

Merrick ignored the cry. Once he got to the side of the bed, he threw her on it. She looked up then and saw him staring at her. He looked furious. She knew that something awful was coming, and she had no power to stop it. Lord, he was going to whip her like Mr. Brad had done. Suddenly, she was so scared, tears brewed in her eyes.

Merrick’s eyes narrowed as she scrambled to the other side of the bed. He lowered his hands toward her.

She shifted backward to avoid them. He caught her arm and jerked her to him. She hit his bare chest.

“Don’t even try, brat. It’s time you learnt your lesson,” he said.

“No, Merrick, please. I’m sorry.” She sobbed, tears spilling down her red cheeks.

He made her lay across his knee. Christine fought back, but he was stronger, and in a split second, he had her on his knees. She was lying facedown on the pillow. The entire length of her body was downward.

Merrick positioned her properly on his lap, and then he placed his hands on the buttocks.

Christine closed her eyes. She bit her lips, and tears kept streaming down her cheeks.

Merrick let his palm fly down with strong force, and it slapped against the soft bottom. Christine squeezed her eyes shut. Merrick lifted his hand up and let it fly down again. He did it repeatedly. He counted ten hits, and then he stopped. He lifted her up to a sitting position.

Christine’s backside was very sore. Her pride, too, was very sore, and she hated him even more.

It wasn’t fair, she thought. All her actions were to protect him against those women, and what did he do to

her? He punished her for her care for him.

“I hate you,” she yelled at him. She didn’t even think what consequences her action might cause. She literally jumped on him and caught Merrick off guard so that he fell back on the bed. Both her legs were on either side of his waist. With her hands fisted, she attacked him.

With all her might and with all her anger she hit his chest, his face, and his shoulders. She hit him everywhere.

All that Merrick could do at the surprise assault was shield himself. Then suddenly he, too, was enraged.

Damned if he’d let a mere boy beat him. He seized both of her hands, stopping her from hitting him. He hooked one of his legs over hers and flipped her body below him.

Christine panicked when she felt his body on top of hers. She closed her eyes and savored the beautiful feeling of having him on top of her. Then she was angry with herself for having such feelings. She started to hit him again furiously.

Merrick tried to control the thrashing girl below him. He pushed his body hard against hers, holding her down to try to keep her still. The harder he pushed the stronger she fought. Then he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her lips were bright red. She was shaking her head from side to side, sobbing at the same time.

An overwhelming feeling swelled up inside his chest. He didn’t know what came over him. He thrust his head down, and savagely, he took her lips with his.

He pressed his lips hard against her. He was hot with wanting. His hand came up to her head, holding her there, pulling her up to him, wanting her closer. His other hand came to her arm, squeezing it hard and tight against his body. He pressed his tongue against her closed lips, wanting them to open.

Christine was shocked into stillness. Lord, but she

had never felt anything like this before. It hurt, it was pure savage, and it was so wonderful.

Merrick pushed his tongue against her closed lips, licking them and urging them to open. When she still had her lips sealed shut, his mouth trailed down to the nape of her neck. He kissed and licked her, sucking her soft flesh.

He was greedy; it was like he had been hungry for a century, starving for the very feast of her flesh.

Christine’s head spun, and her stomach felt hollow.

The feeling was overwhelming—such an ecstasy that she had never known before, and she moaned.

“Oh, Merrick, I don’t understand,” she whispered.

Merrick froze. He pushed himself up and stared down at her below him. He moved off the bed and turned away. He was disgusted with himself for the way he had been acting.

My God, he was making love to a boy. Was he mad? Nay, he was a monster!

Christine stared up at the man standing with his back to her. She could see his strong muscles rippling angrily against one another. She sat up, breathless.

“Merrick?” she whispered.

Merrick shut his eyes. God, he hated himself. This emotional disease had just eaten him alive, and it had made him act. God, he hated himself. What had he done?

“Merrick?” she said again for she was at a loss. She wanted to understand, and she wanted reassurance. She got up from the bed and moved toward him.

All that Merrick could think at that moment was how much of a monster he was. He had just taken advantage of his own ward.

“Merrick?”

“My God, Chris, leave now,” he shouted.

“But, Merrick, I—”

“I said leave now, Chris! Now! Get out!” he shouted, still not turning. He couldn’t possibly look at her.

For looking at her would only make him think of how much like an animal he really was.

Christine stepped back. Fear enveloped her. He wanted her to go away and never return. Fine, he didn’t want her anymore. Then she wouldn’t stay and burden him. She turned and ran out of the room.

Merrick still didn’t turn for the result of his actions was still there on that bed. It would stay in his mind for a very long time. He stood there, staring out into his vast estate, but seeing nothing. At last, he realized that he still had guests downstairs. He turned and put on the shirt he had abandoned when Maria had come in. He saw the bed.

It was a mess.

What had he done?

He was so deep in thought that he didn’t hear the knock at the door.

“My lord?”

He jerked back to reality. He turned to see the housekeeper at the door.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I did knock.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “I should be going down now. Is it luncheon yet, Mrs. Ross?”

“Aye, my lord. The guests are waiting downstairs,” she told him.

“Hmm.” He reached for his black coat and put it on. Once he was done, he walked out the door.

ELEVEN Merrick sat between Amelia and Miss Green. He smiled tightly and nodded his head at whatever tales they managed to narrate. Though he nodded his head, raised his brows, and smirked at what he thought was supposed to be funny, his mind was elsewhere. He worried about where his ward had run off to, though he masked it well. He had told Jacob to go to the cottage and see if his ward was there, but the youth was nowhere to be found.

From the other side of the drawing room, Anne frowned at Amelia talking to Merrick. She stood up and strolled to them.

She said, “Excuse me, but I do hope you two ladies haven’t bored the earl here. Oh dear, I see that you have already. Well, now, come along, my lord, you will help me turn the pages while I play the pianoforte.” She pulled him up.

Merrick stood, nodded toward the two women, and left.

“I am very glad I’ve saved you from boredom,” Anne said and laughed. He gave her a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Anne sat on the settee and then started to play the pianoforte while Merrick turned the pages.

“I must say, brother, your daughter plays

beautifully,” Mr. Wilson said. Lord Queensbury looked at his brother and nodded his head.

Mr. Wilson crossed his legs, and his head swayed from side to side in tune with the music. Lord Queensbury stared down at his shoes, not listening or paying any attention to his surroundings. He was lost in thought.

“Your daughter plays the piano beautifully, Lady Queensbury,” Mrs. McNaught said and gave a hearty, loud laugh that caused Lord Queensbury to jump and blink, snapping his mind back to reality.

Anne’s hand fluttered over the keys, and she lost her tune. The sound was so horrible and deafening that it caused everybody else to stop talking and look at one another. The room was silent when Mrs. Ross came in. She looked wildly around the drawing room. She spotted Merrick standing near the pianoforte and hastily moved to him. Merrick frowned at the worried expression Mrs. Ross was wearing on her plump face.

“What’s amiss, Mrs. Ross?” he asked quietly.

“My lord, it is best we talk outside,” the housekeeper said.

He nodded and led her out the room.

“My lord, the problem concerns Master Chris. I haven’t seen him since this morning. He did not come to luncheon. I am so concerned that I feel I must notify you immediately, sir.”

Merrick stared hard at the polished floor.

“Should I sound the alarm to search for Master Chris, sir?”

Merrick turned and walked toward the door. He stared at it but did not see it. “Nay, Mrs. Ross. Wait a while longer. Perhaps he will turn up eventually,” he said.

“Very well, my lord,” she said and took her leave.

Merrick returned to the drawing room where

everything seemed back to normal. The guests remained for another hour. For Merrick, however, every second seemed an eternity. When the guests had retired, Maximilian stopped him at the door.

“Merrick, about Chris,” he began.

“What about him?”

“I heard the servants talking. You banished him back to the cottage. Merrick, the boy has suffered enough.

He doesn’t need your cruelty to deepen his suffering.” Max slapped his friend’s shoulder and walked to the door.

Merrick shook his head. It seemed this ward of his had been able to charm the household servants, including the superior Mrs. Ross, to have made them worry about his absence. Now it seemed Lord Devil, with his rakehell’s heart of stone, was under his ward’s magic, too.

Max paused at the door and said, “Don’t make a mistake, Merrick,” and left.

Merrick glared at the closed door. He stormed up the stairs to his room. He was staring down at the doorknob to his bedroom when something flashed into his mind. He turned to look at the door to Maria’s room down the hallway. He walked to it, and, hesitantly, he knocked.

The door opened instantly. Kate bade him to enter.

As he walked in, he saw Maria strolling toward him. She was dressed in an almost transparent negligee.

Her arms were wide open in welcome.

“Ah, Merrick, you have come,” she greeted him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him softly on the lips.

Merrick stared down at her, and slowly his hands came up to her arms. He unwrapped them from his neck and set them down on her sides.

Maria’s smile faded.

“Not tonight,” he said and turned to go.

Maria stalked after him and caught his arm.

“Merrick, you need me.”

“Nay, Maria,” he said and removed her hand from his arm. He walked out the door and closed it quietly behind him. He went back to his room and sat on the edge of the bed. He sat in that position for a long time, and then he got up and walked toward the window, staring out into the darkness.

Darn it, he didn’t care anymore. This waiting hurt.

He turned and dashed out the door. He took the stairs three at a time, ran out of the Hall, and went to the stables. There, he saddled Starlight, and in seconds he was on his stallion and gone, out of the stables and into the darkness like a black knight off to save his lover.

Merrick raced his stallion furiously along the quiet road. He urged his stallion faster, riding through the darkness. He was concentrating so hard on finding Christine that he didn’t even notice the chill creeping upon him, making his skin cold to the touch. He was riding along one of the smaller roads now. He kept his head low, his eyes alert, watching out for highwaymen and Christine at the same time. Then his eyes spotted something, a small, dark figure moving ever so slowly. He slowed his stallion so that he could get a better look. It was just a slight shadow, but he knew that figure so well, even from this far a distance, that his heart raced.

Hold on, Chris, I’m coming to take you home.

With determination, he urged his horse to go faster.

He was so consumed with relief that he didn’t notice his eyes were misting with tears.

Christine watched as the rider and stallion galloped toward her. From this far away, she didn’t know who the rider was. It could be anybody, but the one person that she was afraid of the most was a highwayman. Panic seized her.

She turned to run. She sprinted along the road as fast as her tired legs could carry her.

Merrick frowned when he saw the little figure running away from him. Then he forced his stallion to go even faster.

Christine’s heart fluttered as she heard the clip-clop of horse’s hooves coming closer. She shut her eyes. She didn’t want to die. That was what she had heard highwaymen did when you didn’t have anything valuable to give them—they killed you for the sheer pleasure of it.

With the image of death hanging heavily on her mind, she forced herself to run even faster. She could feel both the master and horse getting closer to her, looming over her, wanting to run her down. She chanced a quick glance and realized with horror that the dark figure was nearly by her side. She couldn’t look up at the man and see him clearly for the feeling of him so close to her frightened her.

Christine felt the slight touch of the dark highwayman’s hand on her arm. She furiously hit it away and sprinted faster.

Merrick lowered himself again and tried to get hold of her arm. Again, she pushed him away. Merrick had had enough. This time he lowered his arm down, grabbed her left arm, and roughly pulled her toward the horse.

She panicked even more when her arm was caught.

Instinctively, she hit him with her free hand. Merrick held on to her even tighter. He gripped her arm and slowed his horse down. Once he knew she couldn’t go anywhere, he reached down, put his arm about her waist, and in one smooth motion, he scooped her up in his arms and settled her in front of him.

He turned the horse around and started in the opposite direction.

She was caught, and now the man would kill her.

Now she’d never see Merrick again. No, she didn’t want to die. She wanted to see Merrick again. Angry at the unfairness of life, she started to hit the man. She punched him in the chest, in the face, and she bit him on his shoulder with her small teeth. She thought she heard him telling her to stop, but she couldn’t because she didn’t want to die.

Merrick tried to stop this little crazy cat who was going to injure him any minute now if he didn’t stop the assault. He halted Starlight, and with both his hands he caught her arms. He held her body tightly against him.

“Chris. It’s Merrick, Chris!” he shouted.

“No, no, no. I don’t want to die. No!” she screamed.

“Chris, stop. It’s Merrick,” he shouted and cupped her face. He tightened his fingers and thumb around her small chin to stop her shaking her head.

“Chris, stop!” he commanded.

Christine heard that stern command and stopped, staring at his strong, handsome face only inches from hers.

The face she saw in the moonlight was like an answer to her prayers. She was so happy she didn’t know she was crying. Her feelings of relief overwhelmed her so much that she threw herself at him and hugged him hard.

“Oh, Merrick, you came back for me. I was so scared,” she cried, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck, never wanting to let him go.

He wrapped his arms about her small waist, holding her close to him. His chest felt tight, but there was a sense of fulfillment as well.

“I’m here now, and I won’t let you go again,” he said.

When at last she looked up at him, she smiled and dried her tears with her sleeves.

“I’m sorry, Merrick, I didn’t mean to make you mad,” she said.

Merrick looked at the person who seemed to have affected him in so many ways. “It’s all right, Chris, I’m no longer angry. Now it’s time to go home.”

She nodded, her eyes glistening with fresh tears. He turned her body around, and they started off.

Christine suddenly felt very tired and very safe. She leaned her head and aching body against his chest and closed her eyes. She dozed off with a content smile playing around her lips. Merrick wrapped his arms around her.

An hour later they were home, and Merrick walked Starlight toward the stables. He shifted his position and woke Christine. She opened her eyes and looked around wildly. Then she felt Merrick’s presence, felt his power radiating around her. She felt safe. Merrick jumped down from the stallion and stood looking at her.

“Welcome home,” he whispered.

Christine wanted to cry again. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her down from the saddle. When she was on the ground, she still had her arms around his neck. She offered her face to him. She wanted to kiss him.

Merrick removed her arms and stood back, watching her.

That darn man. He had rejected her again. All she had wanted to do was to thank him. With pain in her heart, she turned and marched out of the stables, away from the unfeeling beast.

Though her legs were very tired, she forced herself to walk. Then halfway across the courtyard, one leg buckled. She fell to her knees. She grunted in pain. She stared down at the dirt, feeling the ache in her knees intensifying. Then she felt her body lifted upward. She

found herself in Merrick’s arms.

“I think you have walked enough for one day,” he said.

So many feelings consumed her then. Tears streamed down her face.

“Now, don’t cry. You are home now.” He mocked her, half laughing.

She shook her head, meaning that she didn’t really want to cry, but the tears just came out by themselves. He smiled his beautiful, heart-stopping smile at her and carried her into the Hall.

TWELVE Merrick heard the door open. He knew who it was without looking around. In his mind and heart, he wanted to turn and take the person into his arms. But of course, he couldn’t do that. He stood there, his manner easy and his stance at ease, entirely the opposite of the turbulence of his feelings, which were erupting inside him, eating him alive.

Christine came in, as she had been summoned by Mrs. Ross to attend Merrick because Paris had taken a day off, and the woman went on to inform her that Merrick had specifically asked for her. She knew Merrick was going to take his guests to the Robinson’s lunch party this afternoon. That was why she had refused to go with them, knowing that he would probably leave her to her loneliness and spend most of his time with those women. She certainly didn’t want to witness him acting stupid because of them.

She came toward him, staring up at the big man gazing out of the window. He was very quiet, she realized.

In fact, since that day she had run away, he had become utterly reserved around her. If she had tried to get close to him, he would retreat. The meaning of his expression was clear to her. He didn’t want to be near her.

“Merrick?” she began.

He turned then, his eyes gazing at her.

“So you are here,” he said and walked around her, keeping as much distance between them as possible, as if she had something contagious. He avoided her deliberately.

“Merrick?” she managed again.

“Get the black one, Chris. That will do,” he told her, staring down at her from the far side of the room.

There were sparks of starvation in his eyes that Christine did not recognize. Those eyes feasted upon her, hungered after her, wanting to make wild, passionate love to her.

She went to the wardrobe and gathered all his clothing for him to change. She placed it on the bed, and then she advanced toward him.

He hesitated, stiffened, prepared to run if necessary.

Christine frowned at this and wondered why he was acting the way he was. She came to stand right in front of him and started to unbutton his shirt.

Merrick shut his eyes and breathed deeply, trying very hard to control his feelings. All he wanted to do at that moment was to take her into his arms. But of course, he couldn’t do that. He needed to discipline himself.

Slowly, Christine undid the buttons on his shirt.

When she was finished, she opened it wider, revealing his smooth, muscular chest. She wanted to touch it. Her hands itched, and her stomach felt hollow.

She opened the shirt wider and then tried to slip it off his shoulders. But she was small, and trying to take his shirt off his shoulders and back was impossible. He wasn’t very helpful either for he just stood there as stiff as a rock.

She bit her lips as her frustration mounted. She was frustrated because he wasn’t helping her. Her skin felt tingly, and she had goose bumps all over. She felt hot and cold at the same time.

She glanced up at him. His face was a mask. She stamped her foot and jumped up to jerk the shirt from

around his shoulders. She got one side down, and it was going well. Then she hovered around him, trying to pull the other side down. She tiptoed, and with one hand she reached for his neck and with the other up to his shoulder.

She was very close to him now, her face only inches from his. Her bound breasts rubbed slightly against his bare chest as she slid the shirt off his other shoulder.

Merrick sucked in his breath. He closed his eyes and prayed for control.

Christine jumped back. She then ran to the bed and retrieved the clean shirt for him. She prepared to put it on for him when he stopped her.

“Chris, I think it’s better for you to go,” he said, snatching the shirt from her.

“But, Merrick—” She halted when she saw that his eyes were flashing fire at her.

“For God’s sake, Chris, I told you to go,” he scolded.

She marched out of the room.

Merrick stared after her little form with longing.

Luncheon at the Robinson’s seemed rather dry and tasteless to Merrick, though the guests seemed to enjoy themselves. His mind kept straying back to Christine. The violet eyes kept haunting him. He had tried, God, how he had tried so hard to shut out the image, but it didn’t seem to work in the least. He was bloody glad when luncheon was finally over and they could leave.

Back at Huntingdon Hall, the guests went to their rooms to rest, and Merrick went straight to the stables and saddled Starlight himself. He then rode out fast across the wide meadow and into the woods. Once there, he climbed down and tethered the horse to one of the trees. He walked farther alone to seek his hiding place.

He seated himself comfortably, staring out into the

calm lake. Aye, this was the place where he could think.

The afternoon sun was very hot, and the heat burned into his neck.

Splash!

Merrick scanned the lake. He saw nothing. The water was motionless and quiet. He did not want to be accidentally shot at by a poacher again. He wanted to ensure that if anybody was poaching in his woods, this time he would be able to see the hunter’s face. He took another scan of his surrounding. As he narrowed his eyes against the shimmering light, he saw a head emerging from the water.

The person was facing the waterfall, away from him. He thought he had seen the person somewhere before, but he couldn’t be sure when and where. He heard the person giggle a nice, girlish sound. The echo was pure from the heart.

A moment later he saw a young woman’s slender shoulders, which were glistening with wet droplets of water. He could feel his manly member responding.

Damnation, how could a person that far away affect him so strongly? Besides that, he could not even see the woman’s face.

With the water still up to her chin, she glided toward the falling water. Once there, she took one slender hand and cupped the dropping liquid. She gave another giggle. Damn, but that sound affected his senses.

The girl went under the showering water and turned around. She delicately raised her head up, closing her eyes, and opened her pouting lips to allow the water into her mouth.

Good Lord! Merrick felt his stomach lurch. He could feel his temper rise. He clenched and unclenched his hands, hard. His whole body tensed. He gritted his teeth.

God, damnation, was he hallucinating?

Merrick stared hard. His eyes intent on the small form playing in that lake like a child. She was having the happiest time of her damn life. And why didn’t he see it long ago? See that Chris was a girl!

She had done a good job though, hiding under the boys’ clothing.

Hell! When he got his hands on that girl he’d— damn, but what could he do? Aye, he knew what he would do. He’d teach her a lesson she’d never forget. *** Christine was having the happiest time of her life. The falling water felt good on her skin. It showered down on her from above and kissed her sensitive skin until it was red.

She started to feel her undergarment, not to mention her binding, sticking uncomfortably tight onto her skin. Hastily, she undid the buttons of her undergarment and yanked it off her body. She placed it between her small teeth so that it wouldn’t float away. She then proceeded to undo her binding. Once released, her breasts spilled out, expanding from the limited space. She felt a lot better. She took her shirt from her mouth and swam toward the rock. Midway, she halted and threw the things onto the rock with her other pile of clothing. When she hit the spot, she laughed aloud. She then swam the rest of way to the rock and pushed herself on top of it. She smiled while she stroked the short strands of hair with her fingers.

Sweet Jesus! Merrick saw her breasts. They were very beautiful. It would be honey sweet to put his mouth onto those beautiful breasts. He wanted to jump out of his hiding place and make love to her. He wanted to put his

tongue into her mouth and explore it. He wanted to kiss her creamy skin all over.

Christine felt a butterfly sensation in her stomach.

She felt an odd excitement in her very being and a bizarre ache down below her stomach. This warm and nice sensation ran down the whole length of her body. She felt her skin tingle. Suddenly, she felt as though someone was watching her. She turned to look around. Fear sank in. She hurriedly put on her breeches and shirt and boots, but she forgot about her binding. Once she was dressed, she ran as fast as she could from the clearing into the woods and out into meadow and back to the safety of Huntingdon Hall. It would be safe there for her, she thought. *** Merrick was lying on his bed when he heard the door open.

He sat up, knowing he—nay, she was back from her bathing, back from having a marvelous time when all the while she was betraying him and lying to him. God, she had even lied to him when she said she had never bathed naked before, and then there she was, all naked, and her goddesslike breasts— He became aroused.

He got up and stormed to her bedroom. He jerked the door open, slammed it shut again, and just stood there.

His arms were folded across his massive chest, which was heaving with anger that was ready to unleash on his victim.

“Huh!” Christine jumped. She saw him standing in front of the door, glaring at her. The color of his eyes was as dark as the storms in those formidable Scottish seas, and they were very intense. She suddenly felt very frightened. It was like he wanted to do something to her—something nasty and very bad.

Merrick stood as still and as silent as a lion— watching, waiting for its prey to make a move. He stared at the young woman who had paraded herself as a boy right in front of his very fine, aristocratic nose. Not to mention his stupid eyes and everybody else in this damn household as well.

He could sense her fear. He could sense her trembling. He smiled inwardly. He didn’t move, just stood there with his feet apart and hands clasped behind him. He was very much a master in command.

“Merrick,” she said. Then she took a big breath as though the very word might kill her. She had never felt like this with him before. She looked up into his face. Oh God! She shouldn’t have done that for he looked ever so forbidding. She swallowed hard and tried again.

“Merrick, you are not with the others?”

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he slowly moved toward her. His action was like that of a predator advancing toward its prey that had nowhere to run to.

“Merrick, are you angry that I didn’t go to the lunch party?” she whispered and looked down at her boots when he came to a stop in front of her. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Her heart was beating like mad, and she could feel her body on fire. She could feel him staring down at her, commanding her to look up at him. But she couldn’t. Looking up into those eyes would kill her for sure.

Merrick grabbed her small chin. Her skin felt soft beneath his palm. He caressed it. He could feel her shivering beneath his touch. He smiled. Abruptly, he tilted her face to his. There he stared into a brilliant pair of eyes he had never seen before. They were misted with tears, shining like precious jewels.

“I’m not angry, Chris. I’ve got a headache,” he said,

and he squeezed her chin to control himself. He slowly moved his hand up to caress her cheek. He then stroked down to her nape, and lower still, down to her shoulder, while they stared at each other like fire consuming, enhancing the flame of his feelings.

“You’re not feeling well? Then you must lie down.”

She took hold of his hand and led him to the bed.

“Wait here. I’ll go and find Mrs. Ross,” she told him and was ready to run off when Merrick caught her arm.

“You don’t have to go, Chris. My headache usually goes away by itself, but there is one thing that you can do to make it better faster.” He smiled mischievously.

“What, Merrick? What can I do?” she asked eagerly.

“You can massage my forehead. It’ll make me feel better,” he told her.

Christine shivered involuntarily, and she felt a burning sensation beneath the pit of her stomach. “Really?

Would it make you feel better?” she whispered as though struggling to form the words.

“Really,” he encouraged her and lay down on her bed.

Christine moved closer to him and tentatively began to massage his forehead. Merrick liked that feeling very much. Her fingers were soft and gentle. If only he could make love to her. He wondered how she would react if he unmasked her and revealed her deception.

“Are you feeling better now?” Christine asked some moments later, leaning down to look at him.

“Nay, Chris. Keep going and don’t talk. No wait, massage over here.” He gently touched her hands and moved them to his temples.

She did his bidding.

“Hmm, that feels good. Keep going, Chris. Don’t stop. No, move down, yes, to the back of my neck. Aye, there’s a good lad,” he said and looked up at her. He saw that she was blushing and her eyes were bright.

“Move down here, to my shoulder,” he commanded.

She obeyed his order. His muscles were so hard and smooth and felt warm under her touch. She could sense him watching her every move. She tried not to look at him and instead concentrated on her massaging hands.

Merrick placed his fingers on her hand, and slowly he caressed her.

“Merrick!” she said breathlessly.

“What’s the matter, Chris? Is something bothering you?” he asked as he gently and lightly stroked her forearm.

“Merrick,” she said again, blinking several times.

“Hmm? You want to ask me something?” He raised his brows. His hand was on her shoulder blade now, gently caressing.

“Merrick, are you feeling better now?” she asked, wishing that he’d move his hand away and stop bothering with her senses.

“No, Chris, not better yet. Keep going. You wish me to be sick?” he asked.

“Nay, I wouldn’t wish you to be sick, sir, not at all.” She assured him and resumed her job with a forced smile.

“That’s good to hear. You are very loyal, are you not, Chris?” he asked.

“Aye, I am very loyal,” she said and shifted slightly so that his hand dropped from her shoulder. He would have none of her discouragement and resumed caressing her.

“You would not lie to me about whatever secrets

you have?” he asked again.

“Nay,” she replied. Merrick continued to stroke the length of her slender arm and then swiftly slipped his hand into the opened collar of her shirt. His hand met her bare skin, and he gave her a little squeeze.

“Merrick!” she screamed and jumped, trying in vain to get up from the bed.

Merrick wouldn’t let her go. Instead, he drew her toward him until there was hardly any space between them.

“Merrick? Plea—please let me go… you are well now,” she whispered as she tried to escape his imprisonment.

Merrick ignored her plea and began to stroke her bare skin.

“Your skin feels very soft, Chris. What kind of soap do you use?” he said as his eyes burnt with blue fire.

God, please do something, I beg you, anything to make him stop.

She couldn’t think what might happen if his hand moved lower and touched her breast.

Merrick slowly removed his fingers from her arm and steadily trailed them toward the back of her neck.

Then he pulled her head down toward his. Christine tried to push herself up away from him, but it was no use. He was too strong. She couldn’t fight him. Their faces were coming closer, and he was smiling, looking at her in that bizarre way of his.

“Merrick, what are you going to do to me?” she asked nervously. He laughed and opened his mouth to reply when he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“What the hell?” He loosened his grip on her neck.

She took the chance to push him away and flew off the bed. He realized what had happened and frowned at her, telling her with his expression that one day she’d find out

what he really wanted to do to her.

“I’ll get the door,” she said and rushed off. Merrick pushed himself up.

Christine opened the door only to see no one there.

She stepped out and saw Lord Queensbury knocking on Merrick’s door. She turned to look at Merrick and said, “’Tis Lord Queensbury. He is at your door.”

“Well, hello, Chris,” Lord Queensbury said to Christine.

“Good afternoon to you, my lord,” Christine replied.

“Lord Queensbury,” Merrick said from behind her.

“Huntingdon.” The earl turned to look at Merrick.

Merrick walked toward his own room, opened the door, and ushered the earl in.

“I was hoping we could talk about our business,” Lord Queensbury said, looking at Christine as she walked back into her room.

“You too, Chris, in my room,” Merrick said.

Christine bit her lip and followed him in his room.

Merrick and the earl took the settee near the empty hearth, and Christine went to stand by the window.

“Now about our business, Huntingdon, have you got any information from your men yet?” the older man asked.

“My men found a family similar to the one you’ve described. But further research showed they are not the one you are looking for. Their history is not the same, unfortunately. But I assure you that my men are looking.”

“I do hope they’ll find something soon,” the earl commented. “It has been so long. I’ve been contacting so many people to see if they could find out something, but until now, nothing.”

“I’m sure my men will come up with some kind of

news soon.” Merrick came and put his hands on the man’s shoulder. “Don’t give up.”

Lord Queensbury nodded. “You’re right.” He got up and tugged down his coat. “Well, I’d better go. Don’t want to bother you any longer.” He turned to look at Christine. He frowned and then shook his head. “See you at dinner,” he said to Merrick and then left.

“Are you better now?” Christine asked. “Your headache, I mean.”

“I’m much better now. Would you prepare my bath?” He walked past her into his bedroom, half smiling to himself.

“But I thought—” “Paris is still away,” he said over his shoulder.

Christine scowled.

Half an hour later, everything was in readiness for his bath, and Christine sighed with satisfaction. “May I go now, Merrick?” she asked, smiling up at him.

“Nay!” “What?” she asked. “I thought you didn’t want me to attend you anymore?” she cried in dismay.

“Nay, Chris, I need you to attend me,” he said.

“Merrick?” Christine began and swallowed, her heartbeat sounding loud in her ears.

“Now come here, Chris, I need you to clean my back. Well, come on, I haven’t got all day. Dinner is in half an hour, and you need to change, too.”

She stood there, not knowing whether to obey his command or run away.

“Chris,” he called softly.

She nodded her head and slowly moved toward him. He was sitting in the bath, naked, and he was watching her walking at a snail’s pace toward him. He had both his arms on top of the bathtub; he relaxed back as

though he didn’t care how slowly she walked to him for she’d reach him in the end. Christine trembled at the way he was staring at her again.

“Merrick?” She halted near the bath.

He looked up at her pretty face. “You don’t want to attend me, Chris?”

“Oh, nay, not that.” She shook her head.

“What is it then?” He raised his brows. She shook her head again. “Then mayhap we can get on with it?”

Christine picked up the cloth and dipped it into the soapy water near his feet. She tried. Honest to God, she did really try not to look at his private parts. It was entirely his fault that he was seated in such a way as to expose them to her. She squeezed her eyes shut and roughly squashed the water out of the cloth. Merrick laughed aloud.

What did he find so funny? She angrily slapped the cloth onto his skin with a thump.

“A-ouch!” He caught her wrist. “Be careful, Chris.

You don’t want to hurt me, do you?” he said.

“Oh nay, I’m sorry,” she apologized, shaking her head.

He released her wrist.

She scrubbed his back until his skin was red and squeaky, then she moved to the next spot. His body was hard, his muscles firm, and there was not an ounce of fat anywhere. She concentrated so completely on her work that she wasn’t aware Merrick had become very quiet. In fact, he was aroused because she was touching him so intimately.

Christine rubbed so hard against his back that the cloth slipped from her hand and sank into the water. Her hands touched his bare skin, and because his skin was wet, her hands slipped, and her body fell forward, colliding with him. Her breasts smashed onto his back.

He felt the softness of her breasts, which caused a

ripple of sensation thundering through his body. God, was he doing this to torture her or himself?

Christine straightened herself up and dipped her hands into the water to find the cloth.

“I’m so sorry, Merrick,” she said as she caught hold of the cloth and brought it back up. “Here we are. Would you like me to clean your front?” she asked as she squeezed the water from the cloth dry.

“Nay, Chris. In fact you may go now,” he said gruffly. He wouldn’t let her stay any longer. She would make him want to bed her right there and then.

“Are you sure you want me to go now?” She rushed to face him.

“Aye, Chris, I’m sure I don’t need you here.” He leaned forward so that she wouldn’t see his erection.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. She got up and rushed out of the door quickly before he could change his mind and make her stay. *** After dinner Christine found it intolerable to stay in the drawing room with the other guests. They all, especially Lady Queensbury and Lady Anne, looked at her as though she was an odd species that they had never seen before.

Lady Anne had been glaring at her all evening, and she had made sure that at every opportunity possible none of the other guests would talk to her. She also made sure that Merrick stayed by her side at all times. Christine found that this suited her just fine because she didn’t want to talk to any of them anyway. Lord Queensbury, on the other hand, was very polite and nice to her. He would sit beside her in the drawing room and converse with her.

When she found that she couldn’t handle the glare

from Lady Queensbury any longer, she excused herself and escaped into the garden. As she strolled out farther, she thought she heard a noise. It softly drifted from afar. She strained her ears to catch it. It was coming from the bushes somewhere. As she slowly advanced toward the noise, the sound vibrated louder.

“Hello, anybody here?” she whispered into the darkness, her voice shaking into the silent night. She frowned and halted. The stars glittered brightly, and the full moon illuminated her slight figure in the night. She peered into the blackness. She saw that the bushes were deserted, and there was no sign of disturbance anywhere.

She took a deep breath and turned to go when there was that noise again.

She turned sharply and stared at her surroundings.

Her heart was hammering in her chest. The sound came again.

“Ho, God…” Christine couldn’t catch the words. They were mumbled and incoherent. Slowly, she moved toward the bushes. The moonlight helped her see her way along the rough pathway. She followed the sound of that muffled voice, and it seemed to be getting louder. She was sure she was near now. She halted, and slowly, with hands that trembled, she pushed away the last shrub.

Her eyes widened with shock. It was the most outrageous scene she had ever encountered. For there she saw the form of a slightly built man with light blond hair that turned a pale white in the harsh moonlight. He was well dressed, and he was on top of a lady. He was doing something very odd to the woman, and she cried out into the night. Christine peered closer to take a good look at the woman in question. Good God, she was Lady Anne Wilson’s maid. And that man was hurting her for she

screamed out loudly when the man pushed himself on top of her. He was holding her lower back, pulling her toward him, and her legs, they were spread apart while his body was between them. The maid screamed again, and she heaved as she breathed cold night air in and out.

Christine didn’t know what to do. Then she saw them kiss on the lips passionately. The maid pushed her whole body closer to the man, and she half seated herself on him. The man slid his hands down her back, then lower to her backside, and then lower still down to her thigh, into her skirt and— Christine couldn’t watch. She twisted away and then ran to the safety of the Hall, to her bedroom. She wanted to shut the image from her mind. God, what were they doing to each other? She raced up the stairs, along the hallway, and collided with a hard chest wall. A pair of hands caught both her arms, sending sensations down her spine. She didn’t have to look up to know who the person in question was.

“Chris?”

She heard his voice. She looked up to see his eyes searching her face. She swallowed hard and licked her dried lips. “Merrick.”

“Is everything all right?” he asked as he touched the side of her cold face. She shivered. “You are cold, lad, where have you been? Look at you. You’re so white, and you’re shivering.” He released his hand from her face and led her toward her bedroom.

Christine mindlessly followed him, her head down, her eyes staring at the carpet. Once inside her room, he made her get between the sheets. She tiredly dropped her head on the soft pillow, her eyes ready to shut into a blissful sleep.

“I don’t want you to get tired and miss out on all

the fun the day after tomorrow,” he said as he pulled the blanket up to her chin and tugged it around her securely.

“What is happening the day after tomorrow?”

“Ah, I see you’ve forgotten already. There is a horse race, and I myself will be riding in the race. I wouldn’t want you to miss it for the world.” He smiled at her and placed his hand on her cheek. He started to stroke the soft skin.

She sat up abruptly. “Merrick, you can’t ride in the race!” she said.

“And why on earth not, may I ask?”

“You just can’t. You do remember that somebody did try to kill you last winter.” She reminded him, taking hold of his hands.

“Chris, I think I can look after myself.”

“But, sir, what if that person attempts to murder you again, would you let him get the chance?” she probed, still holding his hand tightly.

“Nay, Chris, I wouldn’t let him do that.” He came closer to her, his face only inches from hers. “For I have a hell of a lot to teach you,” he whispered. His eyes sparked fire that caused Christine’s heart to flutter. She moistened her lips with her tongue, which attracted his eyes. He stared at it for a long time, savoring the beauty of its redness. He clenched his jaw for he couldn’t damn well kiss her there and then.

“Merrick, ’tis no way to make a joke. I’m absolutely serious about this. What if that person is there during the race, trying to kill you? I wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen to you. Do you hear? You will not involve yourself in that race.”

Merrick laughed. “Now, now, Chris, calm yourself down. I’m a grown man now. I’m sure I can look after myself. Now lie down and go to sleep.”

“But, Merrick,” she persisted.

“Hush. Don’t talk any more. Now go to sleep, and don’t worry yourself about me.”

Christine gave up, too tired to argue. She could argue with him tomorrow when she would be less tired.

“Night, Chris. Sweet dreams,” he said and lowered himself down. He kissed her on her forehead and then whispered, “You’ll be mine soon.”

Christine gasped. She could only stare at him as he left.

THIRTEEN The air was hot, and the sizzling sun burnt down unmercifully on the crowd of people all trying to find the best spot to watch the race. There was little breeze to satisfy the women suffocating with their whalebone corsets shaping their bodies into small curves of hips and generous bosoms. Shouting and cursing rang alongside the laughing of youngsters, and drunken men mixed with the crying of lost little ones. On top of the green, numerous picnic blankets were laid on the freshly cut grass. Food and wine flowed freely. Beautifully crafted hats decorated with flowers and butterflies glided back and forth on top of beautifully painted, soft faces.

Christine raced down the hill toward the busy crowd on the race course of Huntingdon Estate, puffing as she slowed down.

“Chris! Wait for me. Don’t run so fast,” Paul, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson’s son, who had just returned from London, shouted. His mouth was wide open, fighting for air as he sprinted after her. Christine turned at his shouting and slowed down. He caught up with her then and overtook her.

“Beat you!” he yelled, beaming with pride as he urged Christine to run faster down the last few yards. She reached him a second later and put both her hands on her

slim hips, gasping for fresh air to fill her starved lungs.

“God man, you blush like a girl!” he teased, punching her on the shoulder. She bit her lip and gave him no comment in return.

Betty, Emma, and Andrew, the stableman, walked down toward them with baskets and blankets.

“Hurry up. The race is about to begin. I wouldn’t want to miss this one; the earl is in it,” Andrew urged both women as he raced down to where Christine and Paul stood. The women chased after him, giggling and beaming at each other. Betty reached them first. When she came to a stop by the small group, she shaded her eyes against the hot sun with her hands and looked around them. There were people everywhere, seated in groups surrounding the racetrack.

“Well, where should we sit?” she asked.

“Oh, I think here will do; we can see just fine from here,” Andrew said as he spread out the blanket on the grass.

“Hmm, the view is rather good from here,” Paul commented as he tilted his head to examine the racetrack.

“It is rather a hot day, isn’t it?” Emma complained, eyeing enviously those ladies sitting under the tent with their bright parasols and their pretty bonnets shading their heads.

Christine looked around the field. There were many people, and the atmosphere was like that at a fair.

Under the tent, she could see Lord and Lady Queensbury.

Seated beside them was Lady Anne, who was seated next to Sir Allan. Christine saw Anne lean toward him. They were sitting intimately close. Anne said something funny in his ear, causing them both to laugh.

“Do you know Sir Allan doesn’t look like his lordship?” Emma said to Paul.

“Why should they?” Christine asked, raising her eyebrows at the maid.

“That’s because—” Emma started and paused.

“Wait, first promise me ye won’t spread this to anyone if I tell you.” All heads came into a circle, including Andrew, who was now interested in the hot topic of discussion.

They all nodded in agreement.

“Well, you all see, Sir Allan is the earl’s uncle’s bastard, but that uncle of the earl insists that Sir Allan is no bastard at all. In fact, he announced to all that Sir Allan is his legal son, and besides that, Sir Allan is the nominated heir to the earl’s fortune.” She finished off, satisfied.

“Hey, the race is about to begin. Look. They are lining up the horses,” Paul shouted enthusiastically, and everybody turned to look at the racetrack in unison.

“Look, there’s the earl. He’s in the third row. Wow, look at Starlight,” Betty said admiringly.

“I bet his lordship is going to win,” Emma commented and stretched herself up to get a better view.

Everyone was in suspense waiting for the race to begin. Christine stood up on tiptoe to look around for Merrick. He was in the third row, as Betty had mentioned.

He looked so strong and handsome on his stallion, a godlike figure in her eyes. Everybody was cheering for the race to begin.

Suddenly, the gun fired, and the crowd roared with encouragement. Starlight shrilled, threw his front hooves high in midair, and they were off. Merrick and his steed were not in the lead in the initial stage of the race. He held his stallion back, leaving them in the middle of the pack, conserving their energy for later when the real race began.

Near the end of the first lap, they were still in the middle of the pack, but soon after he urged his stallion to increase the pace. He passed four other Jockeys, who tried to urge their

stallions to go even faster. They were looking at him in amazement and annoyance. He smiled and urged his stallion again with his heels in its sides. He was almost onto the leader, and they were rounding the second lap. Once past the second lap, he kicked his stallion on the side. The stallion lurched forward and sped past two more horses in front of them. Merrick and his stallion took the lead. He was smiling. He knew he was going to win this race.

Then suddenly, Starlight started to snort and slow down. It started to kick and jump in the middle of the racetrack while every other stallion passed them by.

“Calm down, boy.” Merrick soothed and patted the horse.

Starlight, however, did not calm down. It jumped and kicked harder. It then raced across the field. The horse sped up so fast that Merrick could feel the wind beating against his face and hair. Then it veered, and he was tossed into the air. He held on tightly to the rein. He hit his backside hard on the saddle as gravity reclaimed him. Then he saw another somersault coming. The horse shook its head and ran blindly into another horse. The other horse and its rider fell. Merrick and his stallion then raced crazily around until they hit a tree. They crashed to the ground, and Starlight fell on top of him.

Merrick opened his eyes. The world was buzzing around him. The pain was unbearable. It throbbed badly.

He could feel himself blacking out. He heard a faint voice.

It was so soft and warm.

“Merrick, please tell me you’re all right.”

He felt soft hands lifting his head, and then moments later, he felt a soft lap beneath his aching head.

He tried to open his eyes. He blinked a few times to make the blurriness and tears go away. He could see more clearly now, and he stared into bright violet eyes that were

brewing with tears.

“Someone, please help!”

He felt her soft hands soothing his head and face.

Then he knew no more. Blackness invaded him. *** Merrick opened his eyes. All he could see was a blur. He blinked a few more times. Then the images became clearer.

He could see a ceiling that was designed with exotic flowers, nymphs, and various mythical gods and goddess.

Where was he? He tried to remember what had happened and where he was, but his head hurt like hell.

He turned his head. Pain shot through his whole body. “Grr!” He gritted his teeth. Why the hell was his head hurting so much? Then he felt hands soothing the side of his forehead. He lifted his hands to touch those fingers. They were small. He turned to look at the person who owned such lovely hands. He saw a pair of violet eyes gazing down at him. The expression in them was raw pain.

“Merrick, you must not move so much. It will only cause you more pain,” she said softly.

“Chris.” He lifted his other hand to touch his head and felt the thick fabric there. He applied pressure on the injury site and moaned. “What happened?”

She ignored his question and tucked the blanket up to his chin. He pushed it back down to his waist. She frowned at him. “Merrick, you are not well. I don’t want you to get a fever.”

“Mayhap you would just tell me what happened.”

“You are not well enough to hear the story yet,” she said and pulled the blanket up to his chin again. He sat up roughly as he kicked the blanket down.

“Wow!” he howled, loud enough for the whole of

Huntingdon Hall to hear.

“Merrick, you must not sit up. Your injury is very bad. Please lay down.” She came closer to him and urged him to lie down.

“Nay, Chris. Tell me what happened,” he commanded.

“Please lie down,” she pleaded with him in desperation.

“I believe Master Chris is right, my lord. You must lie down. Your head will not hurt so much,” Dr. Liam said.

“What happened?” Merrick asked the doctor.

“I’d say that an angel is looking after you. This accident could have killed you instantly,” the doctor said.

“Killed me?” Merrick murmured under his breath.

He turned to look at Christine. “My stallion?”

“Ah, your stallion. Well, I’m not a horse doctor, am I?” the old man commented with a smile. “You’ll have to stay in bed for a couple more weeks. You’ve been unconscious for three days and nights. That fever could have claimed you. But you’re strong. Thanks to Master Chris there. He was by your side all day and night, wouldn’t go to his own room to sleep.” He chuckled and glanced at Christine.

Merrick looked at her. He saw that she was very pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“Why don’t you let Paris look after the earl tonight, Master Chris?” the doctor said.

“Nay, I want to look after him, and Mr. Paris is very tired too,” she said.

“From doing nothing?” the doctor said with his brows raised.

“He’s investigating, sir,” she explained.

“Investigating what?” the old man asked. “You need your rest, lad.”

“But Merrick needs me,” she protested.

“Huh. I won’t argue with you,” he said and turned to Merrick. “He’s very stubborn. Now that everything is under control, I’ll take my leave.” He got up, went to get his bag, and turned. “Rest well, my lord,” he said, and then he was gone.

Jacob came in at that moment. “My lord,” he said.

“Jacob, tell me what happened,” Merrick ordered.

Jacob ambled from the door toward the bed.

Christine got up, but Merrick caught her hand and forced her to sit down beside him. She obeyed his command.

“You were racing, my lord, and then your stallion went crazy. The next second, it was running toward the other horses, and then you and Starlight crashed into a tree.

Your stallion, sir, fell on top of you. It’s a miracle that you did not die, sir,” Jacob said, frowning for there was much mystery surrounding the incident.

“What of my horse, Jacob?” Merrick asked.

“I’ve checked the beast, and it has been poisoned. I assure you, I have been looking after him particularly carefully. I don’t know how this could have happened.

Somebody must have sneaked in and given Starlight something a few minutes before the race.”

“Thank you, Jacob. You will conduct an investigation,” Merrick ordered.

“Aye, my lord, I’ve already started on that. I’ve got our men to go around and do some searching, sir, and Mr. and Mrs. Ross have been interviewing the servants all evening to find out if they’ve seen or heard anything, but so far, nothing,” Jacob said.

“Thank you, Jacob,” Merrick said.

Jacob turned to go, but he hesitantly turned back and said, “My lord, do you think is it possible that someone is trying to murder you?”

“Do you think that it is possible, Jacob?” Merrick said, raising his brows.

“Well, sir, there was that shooting last winter,” Jacob suggested.

“I believe you are right there, Jacob.” Merrick turned to Christine, squeezing her hand. “Jacob, make sure this little piece of news doesn’t get spread to anybody and especially not to my guests.”

“Aye, my lord.” Jacob bowed his head and left.

“I’m such a fool,” Merrick said.

“You are not a fool,” Christine replied, eyeing him.

“Nay, Chris. I thought I was invincible, but no. I could get hurt and die as easily as any other man. Chris, how did you know?” He pulled her closer to him.

“It’s just instinct, I suppose. You see, I just had this feeling. I was so scared for you. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I thought I’d die when I saw you and your stallion going down.” She sobbed and blinked, causing her tears to roll down her cheeks. Merrick wiped them away with his thumb.

“Poor Chris,” he chuckled.

Mrs. Ross entered the room at that moment.

“Here, my lord. You must have some soup and then that medicine the doctor gave to make your pain go away.” She placed the tray on top of the bedside table. She lifted the bowl and handed it to Christine. “Here, Master Chris, feed him. I’ve doubt his lordship has an ounce of energy left to do such a simple thing as to feed himself.”

Christine took the bowl and dipped the spoon into the beef soup. She lifted a spoonful and blew on it to cool it down. Merrick was spellbound by what he saw. He couldn’t take his eyes from the picture of the woman blowing the soup cool with her delicate lips. He suddenly felt that he would die for her. Then he caught his breath as

a realization hit him. His heart jolted in his chest as a thought struck him. She loved him.

“Merrick?” She held the spoon for him.

He opened his mouth as she fed him.

“My lord, you must take some laudanum.” Mrs. Ross came to him and motioned for him to drink the drugs. He pushed her hands away.

“I do not need any medicine to help me get better,” Merrick said.

“My lord, ’tis the doctor’s order that you must take this medicine. It’ll help you sleep and relieve the pain.” She scolded with her eyebrows knitted together as though she were lecturing a little kid who would not obey her.

“Mrs. Ross is right, Merrick, you must take the medicine,” Christine said.

“Very well then, I’ll take the damn stuff.”

Both Christine and Mrs. Ross smiled.

Mrs. Ross held it out to him. Merrick grabbed it and swallowed the whole lot with a gulp.

“There now, you should rest.” She gently pushed him down in the bed. Mrs. Ross pulled the blanket up to his chin, fussing with his pillows and the sheets, trying to make him more comfortable.

Damn! Why did every female in this house treat him as though he were a child? Merrick pushed the blankets down to his waist and stared at Mrs. Ross, silently telling her that she had gone too far. Christine smiled behind Mrs. Ross. Merrick caught her smirk and gave her a hard glare. Her smirk vanished immediately. Mrs. Ross just shook her head and left the room.

“Oh, Sir Allan. Here to see the earl, I suppose?”

They heard Mrs. Ross speak and then the sound of her footsteps departing.

Allan poked his head in. “Hello there, Merrick,

how are you? I was worried for a while there.” He came in and pulled up a chair next to the bed. “I’m sorry about what happened, old boy. You were out for three days and nights.”

“Hmm…” “I suppose you won’t be joining us again for a while, eh?”

“Nay, Allan, I guess I won’t. I want you to play the role of host while I recover from this. Would you do that for me?” Merrick said, eyeing his cousin.

“Of course, old boy. It can’t be that hard, just organize some outing until the ball, and then they’ll all be gone.” Allan smiled.

“Thanks, Allan.” Merrick yawned as the sedative began to take effect.

“Well, I see I’ve tired you so,” Allan said and got up. “Hope you feel better soon, Merrick.” He turned and walked out the room.

Christine went after him and shut the door. When she came back, Merrick was asleep; his breathing was deep and even. She went and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

She silently thanked God for not taking him away from her. When she stood up, she looked around, and her gaze fell upon the medicine bottle. It would be difficult to make him drink it at any time. She took the bottle and poured a small portion into the teapot. *** Merrick woke up to see the room had darkened. He looked around, feeling his head at the same time. It still ached. He gritted his teeth.

There was a fire in the hearth even though it was a warm summer night. He had no doubt whose idea that

was. The fire gave the room a lovely golden glow. There was a single candle on the bedside table.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position. His hand crept down the blanket and touched a finger. It felt very warm.

Christine was asleep sitting on a chair next to the bed. Merrick moved off the bed and gently lifted her up.

He placed her on the bed and tucked her in. Once he thought she was cozy, he kissed her forehead. Then he stood up and wandered to the window. His throat felt dry.

He tried to swallow but it hurt. He went to the table and poured himself a drink. He almost choked. The tea was cold, but he drank it anyway. *** Christine’s eyes fluttered opened. She stretched her aching back. God, that felt good. In fact, she felt very comfortable.

She looked around the room in the dimness of the candlelight. She realized that she was in Merrick’s bed. She sat up, wondering where he could have gone to.

She sensed somebody moving at the far side of the room. She looked in that direction and saw a dark, big shadow moving toward her. The way the shadow was moving slowly scared her. She scrambled off the bed. Just as she got one foot on the floor, a strong hand grabbed her and roughly pulled her back onto the bed.

“No, let go!” she cried. She hit him on his chest three times without even putting a tiny scratch on him. He caught her hands and told her to stop hitting him.

He pushed her down on the bed. Her head rested on the soft pillows. She saw him lowering himself toward her. Panicked, Christine pushed herself up, but he pressed her back down again. She heard him laugh. It was a low,

resonant sound, and it caused her body to shudder in response. One of his hands was holding on to her arm to prevent her from hitting him. The other was behind her neck, and his legs were on top of her own, imprisoning them. She could feel the strength of him on top of her. She took a deep breath and struggled once more, hoping he would let her go, but he just tightened his hold on her and gave another disturbing laugh.

“No!” she said breathlessly.

God, Merrick thought, but she was a beautiful creature, and he started to kiss her throat.

Christine froze. She blinked.

Merrick’s kiss traveled lower.

She blinked again, her heart beating furiously.

There were fireworks in the pit of her stomach. She put a trembling hand on his back. She could feel his muscles rippling beneath her palms.

Merrick stopped his kissing and looked into her eyes. He almost laughed aloud when he saw her. She looked confused and adorable. He couldn’t help himself, and so he kissed her lips. He opened his mouth, pushing his tongue against her sealed lips, pressuring them to open.

Christine could feel the man pushing, forcing her lips to open. What in heaven was he doing? She could feel the pressure on her arm easing. He was applying more concentration in trying to get her to open her mouth. The damn man was hurting her lips. She freed her arm from captivity and started to hit him. He caught her arm again and forced her to stay still. She shook her head from side to side to make him release her mouth.

He stroked her arm, caressing the small, delicate form, molding it against his hungry hand. Then his hand moved and cupped her breast, squeezing it with his large palm, molding the nipple to a thick rosebud.

Christine gasped as his hand fondling her breast sent lightning sensations down her spine and to the pit of her stomach. She groaned and opened her mouth, and just as quickly Merrick slid his tongue inside, capturing the sweetness he longed to possess and explore.

Christine’s whole body froze again. Her blood ran wild. She groaned for more. God, how could the man make her feel this way? This was heaven.

Merrick lifted his head and looked down at her. He saw the desire in her eyes.

She stared up at him and sensed that he was very familiar to her.

“Am I hurting you, love?” he asked.

Christine blinked twice before she realized that he was talking to her. Oh God. She realized then that it was Merrick.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

Christine blinked again. Then her eyes flew wide open as realization sank in. He was in a delirium. That was what Dr. Liam was afraid of. Merrick was in a delirium, thinking that she was his dead wife.

“I want to make love to you every night, my sweet,” he whispered into her ear.

Christine gasped, her heart felt heavy in her chest.

He loved Lady Anne. Tears misted her eyes.

Merrick felt the shudder of her body. He looked at her in concern. There in the dimmed light, he could see tears staining her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb. “Love, did I do something to hurt you?” he asked again.

He was consumed with love, love for Anne.

Christine sobbed and then hiccupped. “Nay, Merrick,” she managed.

“Good, now stop crying. I love you, Chr—”

What the! Suddenly, he felt very dizzy and very tired. He could feel his eyelids dropping, ready to shut. His mind blanked out. He blinked twice. He blinked again, and then nothing— Merrick dropped his head over Christine’s shoulder. His breathing was slow and deep. He was asleep.

With a heavy heart, she put her arms around him, feeling him, giving him all her love even though he didn’t need, didn’t want her love. Nay, he needed, he wanted Lady Anne’s love.

Christine sobbed again, more tears spilling down her cheeks.

FOURTEEN “Such a horrible accident, my lord,” Mrs. Robinson said. “I was there, during those few horrible seconds. It’s there in my mind. It was awful, and then, goodness, how I prayed to the Lord. I doubted that you would’ve survived at all, my lord. But a miracle was on your side for you’ve survived.”

“I do agree with Mrs. Robinson, my lord,” Mrs. Wilson said. “It was rather a nasty accident, I dare say. Isn’t that right, dear?” She turned to her daughter.

Jane nodded in turn.

“Now that you’re well enough, my lord, I’m sure you’ll be joining us again?” Anne asked hopefully.

“Indeed,” Merrick said.

Maria stared at them for a while. She clenched her teeth. Merrick hadn’t even glanced her way the whole evening. He had offered all his attention to those two daft girls. Well, she’d regain his attention soon enough, she promised herself.

Max stared as Maria ogled Merrick. He said, “The food is not to your taste this evening, Maria?”

Maria turned her beautiful head in Max’s direction and glared at him. She saw the cold blue eyes staring back at her. She shivered. This man could really kill a woman with his icy stare, she thought. “Nothing, Your Grace,” she

muttered.

“What? ‘Your Grace’? No, ‘Max, darling’?” Max laughed.

Merrick turned to look at his friend. Mrs. Robinson saw that some of the guests were becoming uncomfortable at this exchange and decided to end the meal.

“Well, I suppose we ladies should retire to the drawing room then.” She stood up and led the way to the door. The women followed her out. Maria managed to be the last to stand, and she placed her hand on Merrick’s shoulder. She trailed her fingers along his arm as she walked around his chair as if she were caressing him. He looked up at her and saw the sensual invitation in her smile.

“Well, gentlemen, good dinner I’d say,” Lord Queensbury said, emptying his wineglass once the women had left.

“I’d say so, brother, and I think it’s because the earl’s presence lifted the atmosphere,” Mr. Wilson said.

“I wouldn’t say that; I’ve noticed a certain lady is not very happy this evening, and I think you know who I mean, my lord,” Robert said.

Merrick emptied his glass and looked Robert straight in the eye. His stare demanded an answer to his challenge. Robert dropped his eyes first in defeat.

Allan got off his seat and took the chair that Lady Anne had just vacated. “Well, Merrick, I’ve introduced you to Mr. McLean. What do you say about our business plan?” he asked.

Merrick looked across the table at the fat man with bright red hair. He did not like that man.

“Tell me, Allan, how did you become acquainted with that man?”

“Lady Queensbury introduced him to me, of course, but why do you want to know that? Tell me, Merrick, about our ideas.”

Merrick stared at Mclean. He did not trust him. He thought himself a good judge of character, and this one, his gut instinct told him, was not to be trusted. “Nay, Allan, I don’t think so,” he said.

“What?” Allan leaned closer. “Merrick, it’s a good idea. Don’t turn it down; this is your only chance,” he pressured.

“My only chance or your only chance, Allan?”

Merrick raised a brow at his cousin.

“Do you really mean it then?” The younger man frowned.

“Yes, Allan, I really mean it,” Merrick said.

“Very well.” Allan stood and walked back to his chair.

“Gentlemen, should we join the ladies then?” Mr. Robinson said.

They were crossing the hall into the drawing room when Merrick stopped. Mr. Robinson raised his brows when he saw the younger man staring at the front door. “Is something wrong, my lord?” he asked.

“Mr. Robinson, I have a headache, would you excuse me and explain to the others that I cannot join them?” Merrick said.

“Of course, my lord, you had better go and get some rest. A headache is a terrible thing indeed. Besides, your injuries, I’m sure, are not yet one hundred percent healed.”

“Indeed.” Merrick nodded his head and walked out the door as a footman opened it for him. Mr. Robinson accompanied him outside. Merrick walked to the waiting carriage below. Seconds later he was off.

Merrick was back at Huntingdon Hall within an hour. He was feeling very tired because of his injury, and he didn’t like that one bit. He hated being weak.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he was about to walk into his own room when he saw shadows of light underneath the door coming out from the room next to his. He smiled. Before he knew what he was doing himself, he walked to the door and opened it. *** Christine was sitting near the lit hearth. She was naked with the robe pulled down to her waist, exposing her slender back. Merrick saw her slender hands rubbing fragrant oil onto her shapely leg. The flickering of the firelight gave her body a golden glow. She looked like a goddess sitting there, with her golden skin a feast for his eyes.

Christine dripped the lavender oil onto her palm and then rubbed it against her stomach, round and round about so that the oil soaked into her skin. She applied more oil to her hands and started to massage them onto her breasts—kneading them, stroking them, caressing them with her innocent hands, causing Merrick’s senses to stir and heighten with desire. He wondered if he could hold on any longer, watching the beauty touching herself innocently, not knowing that her actions were arousing him.

Christine stood up and ambled toward the bed.

Then suddenly she sensed a presence and froze. She stared into the darkness at the far side of her room. Her heart drummed as she saw a slight movement.

Merrick sensed her acknowledgment of his presence. He walked toward the light, watching her as he

did so. Once in the golden hue, he saw her face go white with shock.

Christine thought she might die because she had been exposed.

Oh God, now what would he do to her?

She saw him looking at her oddly. She realized too late that she had no clothes on. She quickly pulled on her robe and closed it over in front of her so that her flesh was not showing.

Merrick smiled inwardly at her actions, though his face was still a mask.

Oh, too late, my little sweet, too late to cover all that up.

He moved toward her as slowly as a tiger hunting its prey, and his teal-blue eyes sparked with hunger.

She took a step back as he neared her. Christine did not like the way he was looking at her. She licked her dry lips.

Merrick stared at those lips—delicious!

“Merrick!” she said breathlessly. “You’re back already?”

He halted inches from her. He could feel her womanly body near him. He could feel her trembling before him. He stared down at her misty eyes, and then roughly he grabbed her chin between his large fingers and thumb, forcing her to stare right back into his eyes.

She avoided his gaze and shifted her eyes from side to side. He squeezed her chin and nudged her face up. She caught her breath. Her eyes met his. His powerful gaze peered into hers, making her whole body—and not to mention her soul—tremble.

He stroked his fingers along the small of her chin and slowly down to her throat.

She swallowed and licked her lips again. Her throat

was dry. Her head was spinning, and her blood was running hot. Her stomach felt like it was on fire.

“I see you finally show your true self,” he murmured thickly, mesmerized by the beauty before him as his finger caressed the delicate throat to her collarbone.

“My true… true self?” she breathed again, looking up at him in confusion.

He did not respond. He just stood there, smiling down at her in that bizarre way of his. His fingers that were caressing her slender shoulder were shifting the side of her robe down.

“Hmm.” His head came closer hers.

“Merrick, you will punish me? I mean, I’m ever so sorry, sir. You see, it’s very important. Oh God, you’re going to whip me then—” She blinked, tears streaming down her cheeks. She released her hold of the robe and placed her hands on his chest. The action exposed her nakedness beneath the robe.

Merrick frowned darkly because he had to control himself when he saw her creamy breasts parading proudly in front of him. His throat went dry. He looked back up at her face. There he saw her concern. She was concerned how he was going to punish her for her deception. She was not concerned about her nakedness, which for his sake she should have been indeed.

“Merrick, you can whip me, but don’t fire Grandpapa,” she said.

“Aye, I will punish you, all right, Chris. It is Chris or—” She looked down, feeling very ashamed. “It’s Christine,” she supplied.

Ah, Christine, a lovely name. He liked it very much.

“Aye, Christine, I will punish you for your

deception.” He felt her whole body tremble.

“What will you do to me?” she asked, turning her face up to him.

Merrick smiled at that. He knew she was scared.

Damnation, but he liked playing this little game with her.

In fact, he was enjoying every moment of it.

Christine, however, did not like the way Merrick was smiling. It was as if he was playing a winning game, and he enjoyed every moment of his victory. She knew she should have locked the door. Well, she had locked the door in the past. Grandmamma had told her to be very careful.

Well, she had been very careful before, but not tonight. It was entirely his fault. If he had not told her that he would be late then she would have been more careful.

“What will I do to you?” He repeated her question as if in consideration of such importance. He stroked her arm lower—up and down, up and down—and all along, his long square thumb was lightly caressing the side of her breast. He saw her pink nipple harden and erect proudly in response. He smiled with pleasure.

Christine shifted. She was starting to feel very funny now. One minute she was running hot and the next she was cold. There were goose bumps all over her body.

“What will I do to you?” he repeated. “I won’t whip you, Christine.” He smiled as he lowered his head toward her. His nose was touching her cheek. “And I won’t fire your grandfather either.” His hot breath fanned her cheek.

Merrick gave her a devilish smile, and his eyes sparked with mischief.

She sighed with relief and smiled up at him, quite unaware of what was going on in Merrick’s mind.

“However, I do have other ways of punishing you.”

“Oh, Merrick, I don’t care what it is as long as you

don’t fire Grandfather,” she said.

“Will you do as I tell you?” he said.

She nodded, wondering what punishment could be worse than being whipped.

“Very well.” He dropped his hand from her arm then and moved to the bed. He sat down and looked up at her. He saw her staring at him in confusion. Her robe was down on one side, exposing her breast to his eyes. He stared at it. His eyes gleamed at its magnificence.

She felt uncomfortable with him staring at her so, and her breasts were hurting. She could feel them expanding into hardness. Why her body was doing so, she did not understand. Oh, but she understood, all right—she understood that she did not like this feeling one bit.

Quickly, as if embarrassed at such a response, she pulled the robe up to cover her nakedness.

Merrick was amused at her embarrassment. She was not embarrassed when she thought he was going to fire her grandfather.

“Come here, Christine,” he commanded.

Her body shook involuntarily again. She didn’t move. He ordered her to come to him with his stare. She understood that there might be consequences if she did not obey for his stare all but made her wish the ground would just open up and swallow her.

Uncertainly, she moved toward the big man sitting on her small bed. She stopped beside him. He touched her arm, pulled her toward him, and made her sit on his lap.

“You’ve put me through hell,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Merrick. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to trouble you. ’Tis honest, Merrick.” She sighed. “Do you regret taking me in?” she asked uncertainly.

“Nay,” he said.

She smiled. “How will you punish me?”

He laughed and grabbed her chin. His head came toward her, and he took her lips.

Christine’s eyes widened as his firm lips met her soft ones. She liked the warm sensation that this gave her and shut her eyes in bliss.

Merrick moved his head back and looked at her.

She was sitting there with her eyes shut. She looked so serene. He chuckled, and she instantly opened her eyes. She frowned at him.

Merrick cupped her face and said, “You must open your mouth for me, sweetheart.”

She blinked and stared at him. He lowered his head to kiss her again. He pressured his mouth against her lips, and his tongue enticed them to open. Still, she did not obey his command. She moved her head away from him, but he pulled her back with the pressure of his hands behind her head. She pushed him away and frowned at him again.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Why do I have to open my mouth?” She stared up at him. He raised his eyebrows again and smiled as though she should know the answer. When she still looked at him blankly, he sighed.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

She bit her lip and nodded without hesitation.

“Then you know I won’t hurt you.”

She looked at him and then nodded again.

“Will you do as I tell you?”

She bit her lip and then nodded.

Merrick touched her chin and notched her face up to his. His head came down, and his lips softly touched hers. As he gently lured her lips with his hot tongue to open, she submitted to his bidding, thinking that he might

not be mad after all. She opened her mouth. In an instant, he pushed his tongue into her mouth and started exploring.

Christine whimpered as his tongue stroked hers.

God, she had never experienced such things before. He was demanding, hot, and very sweet. She liked it very much.

She put her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as if by instinct.

Merrick felt the encouragement. He pulled her body toward him.

God, in all the days and nights since he first laid eyes on her, he had dreamt of doing this to her. It was a blessing that now his dream had come true.

He released his mouth from hers and started to drop wet little kisses on her face. He kissed her eyes, he kissed her pink cheeks, he kissed her chin and then down her nape. Her soft body molded with his. He moved lower, kissing her shoulder. He shifted the robe down her arm.

The action exposed one of her breasts. He stroked her arm, his thumb slightly touching the side of her breast.

Christine shivered in response, and she purred like a cat. The places where his hands touched her sent ripples of sensation along her nerves. Her body was inflamed with this love heat she had never experienced before.

“Am I hurting you yet?” he whispered into her ear.

She shook her head and tried very hard to respond, but her wits seemed to have disappeared.

He repositioned her, moving her limbs so that both her legs were now on either side of his waist. Christine shivered at the action and gasped out.

“Merrick, I—” Merrick kissed her mouth then, to silence her.

“Trust me, little sweet,” he said and lowered his head to kiss her throat.

Her head whirled. She could not think anymore.

Aye, he told her to trust him, and, amazingly, she did. She let him do things to her, things he told her that would not hurt her at all. Things she saw him do to Lady Maria Ferguson, and she too had longed for him to do such things to her. Now he was doing these things to her, and, Lord, but it was wonderful.

Merrick lowered his head to kiss her throat and down to the valley of her breasts. The soft white flesh tasted like silk blending with red wine and had the aroma of lavender. He was drunk—drunk with the sweetness of her. She tasted like honey. She was delicious.

As if by his command for more, Christine lifted her head back and her body up for his access.

He laughed at her acceptance of what he was doing to her body. He moved his hands down to caress both her legs, stroking her thigh. He pressured her limbs to encircle his waist, and she did his bidding.

He lowered his head down farther, kissing the swell of her breast, and he pushed down the rest of the garment to reveal her other breast. Merrick hastily took off his shirt.

In seconds, the top half of his body was naked. When this was done, he hurriedly caught hold of her and started kissing her again. He stopped kissing her and looked into her eyes. There he saw her desire for him.

“Merrick, I-I don’t understand this.” She put her hands on his chest.

“Hush, don’t be afraid, sweet. I won’t hurt you.”

He took hold of her chin so that she could look into his eyes. She smiled up at him. Merrick lowered his head and kissed her throat while his hands moved down and caressed her body. He lowered his head and stopped, staring at her breasts.

She moved her hands up his shoulder, touching his muscular arm. He felt so strong and hard.

He lowered his head toward her breasts, and hungrily he savored one with his mouth.

Christine gasped, her body jumping with sensation.

Good God, she never knew that such a thing existed.

“Oh, Merrick—” She felt thrilling sensations exploding through every nerve of her body. She almost screamed out for the pleasure was so hot and electrifying.

Merrick sucked and licked the small breast with his tongue. He played with the small pink nipple with his strong teeth—luring it, dancing with it until it surrendered, swelling upright at his bidding.

“Merrick!” she gasped out. She shook her head at the sensations. He moved his hands up, caressing and stroking hard in urgent need along her thigh.

“Merrick—” she whimpered. This feeling she was having was scaring the hell out of her.

He lifted her up and placed her gently down on the bed.

God, she was making him drunk. His head was spinning—his blood was aching with need—the need to be inside her. She had pushed him to the brink of insanity.

He caught her arm and felt her stiffen. He looked up to her face and saw her fear. Terror of the unknown, he thought. Nay, not now. He wouldn’t want to scare her.

He’d have to woo her to have her trust him fully until she had nothing to hold back.

He moved up and kissed her forehead.

“Rest well, my sweet. I won’t hurt you,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Merrick,” she whispered.

“Nay, my sweet.” He stroked her hair.

There were three knocks at that moment. They both turned to look at the door at the same time. Merrick frowned.

“Somebody is the door,” Christine said.

“Wait here,” he said. She nodded.

He went to open the door and saw Ross standing in front of his door, looking very pale with concern.

Ross turned, rushed to him, and said, “My lord, I’m sorry to have interrupted you.”

“What is it?” Merrick asked.

“A maid, Claire, Lady Anne’s maid, she is missing,” the butler stated quickly.

“How long?”

“The guests have just arrived, and Lady Anne came back to alert my wife that her maid was not in her room waiting for her. Lady Anne said that she hasn’t seen Claire since after teatime. Claire wasn’t there to attend her for dinner, and she has been gone since.”

“God, that was about six hours ago. I better come down and sort things out.” Merrick turned back into the room without further ado.

“Aye, sir.” With that, Ross went down the hall without a concern as to why Merrick was half-dressed, his dark hair in a state of mess, and his mouth swollen from kisses.

Merrick was shocked to see Christine all dressed up and ready for action. She was in her male clothing again, and her curls were a wild tangled mop on her head. She was gorgeous. He just wanted to ravish her there.

“We must go down now, Merrick,” she broke through his thought.

Merrick raised his brows. “Go down now?”

“Aye, I heard the two of you talking. Come, we must find that maid,” she said and rushed toward the door.

Just as she went past him, he seized her roughly by the wrist and swung her back against his chest. She looked up at him. “Merrick, ’tis past time. We must go now.”

“Nay, my sweet. You will not attend to this matter,

do you understand?” He took hold of her chin.

She shook her head. “Merrick, ’tis very important.

A person is missing. Why, I’m so glad it wasn’t you.” She stared up at him.

“Me, too. I’m glad it wasn’t you, but hear me well, my sweet, you will not help in this matter. I want you to stay here.” He released her then and started to put on his shirt.

“But, sir…”

“No buts.” With that, he went out the door and left her.

FIFTEEN The servants were in the drawing room. Merrick was standing near the hearth with his hands behind his back.

“All right then. We all know what we are here for. I need to ask if any of you have seen a maid; her name is Claire. Tell me now if any of you have seen her for she’s been missing for six hours.”

The servants shook their heads.

“So nobody has seen her since this morning then?”

They shook their heads again.

“Then we must start searching at once for her life might be at stake here. Now I want the women to—” He saw Christine enter the room. “Search in the Hall and the men outside, in the fields, in the woods, in the garden, and in the stables. I want all of you to report to me by midnight if possible. Now all of you, off to search.”

As the servants gathered into groups and one by one departed in search for Claire, Merrick stalked straight to Christine. He caught her arm and said, “What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay in your room.”

She just smiled up at him. Suddenly, all his anger dissipated.

“I’m a member of this house too, so I deserve to know what is going wrong and to search for Claire.”

Damnation, but she is too beautiful for my peace of

mind, he thought as he stared at her. “It’s not your problem. I order you to go upstairs.”

“No, my lord, I won’t do that. ’Tis not fair to the others,” she told him.

“I don’t give a damn about what’s fair and what’s not. I’m worried about you. Now, I want you to go to your room… no. In fact go to my room and sleep. Sleep in my bed right now for I found your bed much too uncomfortable. Go now.” He dragged her out the door and into the hallway.

“Nay, Merrick!” She pulled her arm from his grasp.

“I will go and help with the search,” she said, angry now at his high-handedness.

“Are you not doing my bidding? Are you disobeying my order?” he inquired, eyeing her.

She lifted her head proudly. “Nay, Merrick. I’m going to help search, and that, I think, is the right thing to do.”

“Very well then.” He shrugged his shoulders and came to her. He caught her by the shoulder with one hand, and with the other he caught her head. He thrust his face down and took her lips. He kissed her, not to give her pleasure but to teach her a lesson not to argue with him again.

Her lips hurt. She cried out at the soreness. The damn man! She hit him on his chest with her fist, pushing him away from her, but that only made him pull her tighter and closer toward him. He released his hand which was holding her arm, and he cupped her breast instead.

Christine gasped out in response.

He released her abruptly. God, he couldn’t stand this—he couldn’t seem to think when he was near her.

“You drive me mad, my sweet. It would be best if I dumped you in my room and locked you in,” he said.

Christine looked up at him in confusion. He quickly lifted her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs.

A shadowy figure came out of its hiding place behind a door. The woman stared after Merrick and Christine with her eyes narrowed. She put her hands to her chest and gripped tightly at the muslin material of her gown. Her heart was beating furiously, and all she felt was hatred and jealousy. With trembling legs, she staggered out of her hiding place. Her head started to feel dizzy, and she leant on the table beside her for support. With God as her

witness, she vowed to get even. *** Christine poked her head out the door. She scanned the hallway. It was quiet. No one was in sight. She slid out, ran down the hallway, down the grand stairs into the kitchen, out the back door, and into the darkness. A gust of chilly wind whooshed past her. Branches and leaves swayed in tune with the stirring air. They made music together with the echoing of the muttering crickets like drums beating on a midsummer night.

She tiptoed across the cool grass. Her shadow loomed and blended with the darkness, gliding into the garden. She halted and scanned the area around her. She then pushed her way into the thick bushes and started calling Claire’s name. Well, she wasn’t going to miss out on the search now, was she?

As she wandered deeper, the bushes were getting thicker. She suddenly stopped as a thought struck her.

Somehow, she thought she had been here before. She looked around in the darkness and listened more intently.

She thought she heard a sound—nay—a cry. She stood

still, listening, searching. There it was again. It was a cry, a painful cry, a cry of agony.

She followed the sound. Then something caught her legs. She fell on the grass. She scrambled up, touching the object near her legs. It was just grass. She stretched out her hands, seeking what was there. Then her hands touched something, something soft and warm. Fear set in, her pulse raced. Oh God! She moved her hands farther. It was an arm, and she could feel heat coming from the person. She heard a moan. She jumped back, releasing the arm.

“Help.” The word was barely a whisper. She had to strain her ears to catch it. Oh God, she thought. It must be Claire. She rushed forward.

“Claire, is that you?”

No reply. She moved her hands up, touching the face. “Claire, can you hear me? Are you all right?” she asked.

“Help… please.”

Christine’s heart lifted when she heard the reply.

The woman wasn’t dead yet.

“Wait here, Claire. I’ll go get help.” She patted the woman’s arm and then ran toward the Hall. She sprinted out of the bush, across the garden, and into the kitchen.

She searched the vast place in panic. Nobody was there.

She quickly ran into the great hallway. She heard voices from somewhere in one of the rooms. She ran toward the sound and halted at the entrance to the drawing room, puffing. Every pair of eyes turned to her.

Merrick rushed to her when he saw her face. She was very pale, and she looked afraid. God, what had happened to her? His felt his heart constrict painfully. He came to her and took her in his arms.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Merrick, I found her. I found Claire,” she said,

holding on to him.

Everybody started talking at once. All the servants were there. It was midnight, and they were to report back there at midnight.

“Where?” Merrick asked.

“She’s in the bushes behind the garden. Come, I will show you.” She tugged his arm and led him out. The servants followed with lit torches in their hands. She led them deep into the bushes.

“She’s in here,” she said and stopped.

Jacob came forward, lowering his torch toward the form on the ground. There was blood everywhere, and Claire was lying in the middle of it. Her gown was torn.

There were scratches all over her body. Her face was very pale. She looked to be dead. Christine almost fainted.

Merrick caught her.

“Mrs. Ross, take Chris back to the Hall,” he ordered. Mrs. Ross moved forward quickly, taking hold of Christine.

“No, I—Merrick, is she dead?” she asked, holding on to him tightly.

“I don’t know. Mrs. Ross, take Chris to his room.”

He pushed her toward the housekeeper, who took Christine and led her to the Hall. She was shaking all over.

She was so afraid for the maid.

Once inside the bedroom, Mrs. Ross made her sit on the bed. She lit more candles when Christine said, “Who could have done that to her? It’s very awful.”

“Now, Master Chris, you go to sleep just like the earl said, all right?” the housekeeper said. She came to Christine and helped her pull back up the blankets.

Christine took her shoes off and got between the sheets.

“Mrs. Ross, what do you think happened to the girl? I mean, did somebody beat her up or something?”

Christine asked.

“It looks that way,” Mrs. Ross replied, eyeing the short-cropped hair in disarray about Christine’s nape.

“Well, I do hope she’ll get better soon. I think Lady Anne won’t be too happy about it,” she commented.

“What? Of course she won’t be happy about it.

Claire is her maid, after all. Although I seem to remember that she didn’t really care for her much,” Mrs. Ross said.

“Do you think so? Actually I do, too. That day, when we helped put the valises away, she wasn’t very nice to Claire. Poor girl, I really do hope she’ll get better soon.

What do you think Merrick will do?” she asked, curious.

“Oh, I’m not so sure. Mayhap—” Mrs. Ross was lost in thought again. She frowned, staring at Christine.

Then she shook her head and said, “Now, you go to bed.

We have had enough commotion for one day.” She tucked Christine in.

“Good night, Mrs. Ross,” Christine said, poking her head up.

“Good night, Master Chris,” the housekeeper said and left.

SIXTEEN The guests were having their luncheon in the dining room, and Christine had managed to lie to Merrick that she had a headache. She was, in actual fact, in the kitchen helping in the overseeing of the food preparation—and also doing some research as to whether the servants knew of anything about Claire’s accident. Sitting there eating strawberry jam and bread, Christine looked worriedly at Emma, who seemed to be dropping too many cutleries she was arranging. Her hands also seemed to be very shaky, and she looked very nervous. She noticed that Emma kept looking behind her back, and her face was sheet white. Her hands were shaking again while holding that tray of broiled salmon. Christine took the dish from her before it had the chance to crash to the floor.

“Emma, mayhap you should go and lie down. I mean, you look awfully pale. Are you sick?” Christine asked in concern.

“No, I’m not sick, Master Chris. It’s just that—” Emma looked behind her back.

“Aye, Emma, I think Master Chris is right. You should go and lie down. You’ll only make things worse here than they already are with you shaking all the time, dropping things,” Betty suggested.

“I do believe they are right, Emma,” Mrs. Ross put

in as she came into the kitchen. “You should go.”

“You think so, too?” Emma asked, eyeing Mrs. Ross to see if she really meant it. Her whole body was still shaking.

Mrs. Ross nodded.

“All right then,” she said weakly and left the kitchen.

“Poor girl. I think she became like that two nights ago. I mean, she was shaking like hell after we found Claire, seeing her lying in a pool of blood,” Betty said, shaking her head.

“Claire?” Christine asked.

“Aye, poor girl. The doctor saw her again last evening, said she’s getting better. He also said that we found her in time; a bit later she would probably have died, losing so much blood, you know. So, Master Chris, thanks to you, she lives,” Betty explained cheerfully.

“I should go and see how she is,” Christine said.

“I don’t think you should see her yet. It was very bad. Poor girl, she must be very distraught, losing her baby and all,” Betty commended.

“What?” Christine exclaimed.

“What do you mean, what?” Betty asked in confusion.

“You were saying baby. Does she have a baby? I didn’t see it,” Christine said.

“Master Chris,” Mrs. Ross said. “What Betty means is that Claire was pregnant, and she had a miscarriage.”

“Poor girl. Her husband must be upset, too, then.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Betty said.

“What do you mean?” Christine asked.

“Ah, I think,” Mrs. Thompson put in with her hard and disapproving voice, “that she has a lover, and he came here to beat her up, making her lose the baby that he didn’t

want. Men these days are always like that, trust me,” she told them and turned back to her stirring.

“Do you think so, Mrs. Ross?” Christine asked.

Luncheon was finished then, and loads of dishes arrived in the kitchen brought in by the five parlor maids who arrived one by one in a line. They placed them on the bench, and, as before, in a line they went out again to get more.

“All right, get back to work. We have a lot to do before dinner.” With that, Mrs. Ross left the kitchen without answering Christine’s question.

Christine turned back to eating her food with a heavy heart.

About half an hour later, Mrs. Ross came back in again. “Master Chris, the earl wants to see you in the stables. Now, what did he mean also to ask you if your headache is better?”

Christine hid a smile and said, “I lied to him, Mrs. Ross. I don’t like those high-society people. Especially that Lady Anne of his. She doesn’t like me. The stables, was it?” she asked, stood up, and went out the door.

At the stables, she saw Merrick standing beside a gray stallion, and he was wearing his riding outfit. God, she thought, smiling at him, he looked very handsome. She saw him smiling back at her. She stopped in front of him and bent her head back to stare up at him.

“Well, Chris, your headache must be better, I assume, with that smirk of yours and you agreeing to come out here to see me.”

“Yes, it’s better now,” she replied.

“Would you like to go for a ride with me then?” he asked. God, he wanted to touch her, but he couldn’t, not here. Somebody might see them.

“I would love to, but I can’t ride,” she told him,

feeling very disappointed.

“Don’t worry. I’ve figured that out already.”

“You did?” She smiled up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Aye, I’m very sure. Now get up.” He helped her up onto the stallion. She turned to look at him.

“But, Merrick, I don’t know how to ride,” she reminded him.

“No, I’ve told you I’ve got an idea. Haven’t you been listening?” He finished helping her into the saddle.

Once she was comfortably seated, he climbed on behind her. He placed one hand around her waist and the other held the rein.

“Oh, I see,” she commented. He kicked the stallion, and the horse galloped out of the stables. “Where are we going?” she asked as the stallion strode faster.

“You’ll see.”

About fifteen minutes later, they reached their destination. The stallion stopped, and Merrick jumped down. He put his hands around her waist and helped her down to the ground. She walked toward the clearing with a smile.

“Oh, Merrick, ’tis beautiful. Look, just look at the colors.” She ran forward, spreading her hands out, gently stroking the lavender petals. The stretch of violet, indigo, yellow, and pink colors loomed before her with fresh green leaves dancing with the gentle wind. The bright blue sky rose above them, kissing the wild meadow of rose, lavender, marigold, and daisy. The bees hummed and sang, sucking and savoring the perfumed nectar of an assortment of flowers. She strolled to the middle of the field and stood.

With her eyes closed, she inhaled the fresh air. It smelled strongly of lavender, and her head spun with pure delight.

She opened her eyes again, and then she turned around to face him, smiling up at him.

Merrick’s heart did a somersault. His head swirled with happiness and desire. God, but she looked so beautiful standing there in a field of violet and indigo all around her.

It reminded him of a beautiful nymph caressing and nurturing the life that grew beneath her. When at last he could not control himself just to stand there and watch her blend in with nature, he walked toward her.

She smiled when she saw the handsome man making his way through the field of lavender that barely reached his knees. Then, just to amuse herself, and annoy him, she made a run for it. She sprinted away from him as she laughed.

Merrick, when seeing his little nymph running in the opposite direction, realized that she was playing a game with him. He smiled, though he was in fact quite annoyed.

He sprinted after her.

Christine turned back and saw him racing toward her so fast she felt like she was his prey and he a predator.

Suddenly she was so scared for he was coming closer as if he were a real lion chasing her, and she ran away faster. He was closing in on her, and he was laughing too, knowing victory was his. The damn man! When he got very close to her, with his hands reaching out, ready to catch her, she ducked down and twisted the other way. “Why, you little cat!� He laughed and turned to chase her in the other direction. Christine giggled at her trick. Suddenly, the chase made her feel very excited, and her blood ran hot with the adventure.

She zigzagged twice around the marigold bushes, escaping his grasping hands. He was now very frustrated.

This time he sprinted in fast and caught her around the waist. He lifted her high above him. She squealed delightedly. She was still laughing when he dropped her on the ground, crushing the daisies below them. They rolled

about in the grass, their bodies molding together, squeezing against each other, and the bright yellow buttercups around them.

His large body was on top of her small one. He pushed himself up on his elbows and gazed down at the beautiful little nymph below him.

Christine could feel the hardness of his muscles against her soft skin. He lowered his head and kissed her on the lips. Their kiss was sweet, gentle, soft, and beautiful.

He urged her to open her mouth for him. She did his bidding, and he pushed his tongue in. His tongue stroked hers, exploring the untouched sweetness inside, and she quivered. He released her mouth, and his lips trailed down to her nape, dropping hot, sweet kisses. He then lowered to her shoulder, his mouth hot and wonderful, and then moved lower, tasting the soft honey flesh in his mouth and tongue.

He stopped and looked up into her eyes. God, but she looked so beautiful. Her cheeks blushed to a rosy color, her eyes were bright with anticipation, and her lips were full and swollen from their kisses. Her golden hair lay in seductive disarray with petals of lavender and marigold caught in her curls that glittered in the golden sun. Her breathing was hard; her breasts rose and fell as she breathed.

He sat up and pulled her to sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her whole body, imprisoning her within his heart. He then started to kiss her cheek repeatedly.

“Merrick, I want to tell you something,” she started, looking up into his eyes.

“Hmm, what is it?” he asked, seeing her concerned face.

“It’s about Claire.”

“What about her?” he encouraged, though he felt annoyed that his kissing her would have to wait.

“You didn’t tell me she was pregnant.” She sounded very disappointed.

“Why would you want to know that? After all, I did tell you the important part: that she is all right.”

“Aye, you did, but you neglected to mention her being pregnant and all. You know that is very important. I mean, good Lord, she lost the baby.” She snuggled her head on his shoulder, her face nestled against his neck.

Merrick smiled. “Aye, and I’m sorry, my sweet.”

“Do you think she has a lover? I mean, she doesn’t have a husband, you know,” she said.

“And what do you know about lovers?” he asked curiously.

“Mrs. Thompson said so this morning, you see. Do you think that if that lover of hers knew she was pregnant, and he didn’t want to have the baby, he was probably the one who beat her like that, too make her lose the baby?”

She sat up, eyeing him. “Do you think so?” she asked, hoping for an answer.

“You really want to know, don’t you?” he asked, smoothing her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“Yes. Please answer me. Do you think that this lover of Claire’s is the one who did it? Beat the girl, I mean.” Her eyes were large and hopeful of a confirmation.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” He sighed.

“But don’t you think that it’s strange that there had been a lot of accidents. I mean first you were shot at, and thank God it only hit your arm, and then there was that accident at the race and the horse being deliberately poisoned, and now this.” She sat quietly for a moment and then said, “I have something that I think is important to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“You see, the other night when I was out, I hmm— ” She closed her eyes and saw that image again. She wondered if she should tell him about that night.

Merrick stared down at her and saw the dilemma playing about her face. He waited. At last, she continued as though her decision was made.

“You see, I was out, and I saw Claire and this man.

Well, you see, I think they were making love,” she mumbled, and more loudly, she said, “and when Betty mentioned about her lover I thought that he might be the one who did it, you know, to get rid of the baby. You know, being a well-bred gentleman and all, he wouldn’t want to have a maid as his wife, let alone her having his child, too. So you see ’tis obvious that he might be the one who did it. But it was so cruel of him to do such a thing, beating a girl almost to death,” she explained, bashing her own fists together.

“And how did you know that a gentleman like this man didn’t care or love Claire for who she is and beat her almost to death so that her child wouldn’t live?” he asked, very curious as to how she came by all this knowledge.

“Well, all well-bred gentlemen are like that, aren’t they? I mean, when you are well-bred, you wouldn’t want to have a wife and a child that belonged to the lower class.

That would give society something to talk about. I mean, you would do that, too, wouldn’t you? You and Lady Anne are perfect for each other. She’s very rich and beautiful,” she said half to herself for she knew he would never love her. She was looking far into the distance. She would not blame him when he married Anne. After all, they suited each other. Besides, she didn’t want to be like her mother.

She didn’t want to have a child without a father. She didn’t want to keep running for the rest of her life because the

other woman wanted her dead.

Merrick pulled her face around to look at him. He saw tears misting her eyes. She stared up at him. There, Merrick saw it in her lovely eyes, the very eyes that haunted him day and night, the eyes that now spoke of love for him.

He cupped her face in his large hands. Christine looked down, knowing that she showed too much of her feelings just then. He nudged her face up to his, and he lowered his head and kissed her softly on the lips. When he was done, he didn’t lift his head away from hers. He stayed there; they were forehead to forehead and nose to nose.

“My sweet, how could you ever say such a thing to me? I would never do such a thing. Do you think I am one of those men?” he whispered, his hot breath fanning her lips.

“I mean there was Lady Ferguson. She’s your lover, and you don’t intend to marry her, and everybody knows that you will marry Lady Anne, in time,” Christine explained.

“My sweet, Maria is a different matter. She is not the marrying type.”

“Do you think Claire was doing that kind of job, too? But she doesn’t look the type, you know, so nice and all. And besides, her employers might not take kindly to her, knowing that she was having a baby and all with a gentleman that they perhaps know well,” she commented reasonably.

Merrick absorbed this information quietly.

“Christine, you said you saw Claire and this man,” he said.

She nodded and blushed.

“Who was the man?” he asked, putting his hand on her warm face and soothing her soft skin to calm her down.

“He’s one of your guests. He doesn’t speak very

nicely to you. He’s the young Mr. Wilson. Why does he hate you so? I saw the way he was looking at you.”

“I suppose sometimes people just dislike each other for no apparent reason at all,” he said, looking at her nodding her head as if she knew what this meant.

“Christine?” he began.

“Yes?” she replied casually. Merrick put his hands around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

“Do you remember that night when I saved you from Mr. Brad’s whipping?”

She nodded and wondered what he was going on about now.

“Do you remember saying that if I wanted something from you, you would do it, do whatever I ask of you for repayment? There is something that I want from you.”

“What is it, Merrick? What is it that you want? I will gladly give,” she said, looking at him, loving the way his dark hair swayed in the gentle breeze. “Is it something that you want badly?”

“Aye, very badly. In fact, achingly badly,” he said seriously.

“All right. You may proceed.” She moved closer to him and touched his dark hair at the back of his head.

Merrick loved it, loved her small hand touching him like that. He moved his head closer to hers and said, “Here is what I want. I want you to be my wife,” he whispered.

Christine registered this information in shocked silence. Her heart was hammering away in her chest. Could she have heard it right? Nay, it couldn’t possibly be true.

“Merrick, what did you say?” she asked him, looking at him with large eyes.

“Would you be my wife?” he asked and then kissed

her nape with his mouth very slowly, his tongue sweetly playing about her skin, giving her overwhelming sensations.

She pushed him away from her, refusing even to think of being his wife. It wasn’t right. She didn’t want to be like her mother.

“Merrick, ’tis no time to jest. Do you realize what you have just said?” she cried, tears misting her eyes. “No, sir, I think you are very sick today. Why just look at you— ” Merrick pulled her head toward him and kissed her soundly on the lips.

This was not right, Christine thought. He could not possibly ask her to marry him. For God’s sake, their statuses were very different, and she didn’t want to follow her mother’s footsteps. She tried with all her might to push him away. The harder she tried, the tighter he captured her. She hit her fist against his chest. He caught her hands and imprisoned them.

“Merrick, ’tis obviously ludicrous, and what about Lady Anne?” she asked.

“My sweet Christine, have you no mercy? Denying my wish?”

“But, Merrick, you couldn’t possibly let society laugh at you. I am but a commoner. They will laugh at you, and that, sir, would hurt you very much. I don’t want to hurt you,” she said. And I don’t want to hurt myself, she thought.

“My sweet, you are denying my wish, and by doing so you’ve hurt me very much. I’ve lost love once before, and I don’t ever intend to lose it again.” He took hold of her small hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it.

“But, sir, what about Lady Anne? She will be very disappointed if you don’t offer her marriage.”

“My sweet, would you wish me to be miserable for

the rest of my life?” he justified, placing her hands to his heart. “Do you want me to be miserable for the rest of my life then?”

“Nay, Merrick, but still there are other well-bred ladies,” she reasoned, lowering her eyes in confusion.

“Aye, so there are other girls in England, but do you wish me to marry somebody I do not love?” he asked.

“No, sir, I would prefer that you marry someone you love and care for. But perhaps you haven’t found her yet, so best if you wait,” she suggested.

“But I’ve found her,” he said softly near her ear, his breath tickling her skin.

“Merrick!” she gasped.

“I love you, my sweet. Is that a good enough reason for me to ask you to marry me?” he said, cupping her face in his hands.

She was silent for a moment, breathing deeply. Did she hear it right? That he loved her? She looked up at him then, his eyes showing his raw feelings for her. She crushed her face into his chest then. He folded his arms round her, imprisoning her there.

“Would you be my wife?” he asked again.

“But, Merrick, society, they would think you mad to marry a girl like me.”

“To hell with society. I don’t care what they say.”

“You don’t?” She looked at him.

He nodded and said, “Now, what is your answer?”

“I can’t.”

He was quiet for a moment as he looked at her and then he asked, “Why not?”

She was almost in tears as she tried to find excuses.

“I—” She shook her head as tears flowed down her cheeks.

He touched her chin gently, tilted her face up, and gazed deep into her misty eyes. “Do you love me?” he

asked.

She widened her eyes and blinked, and tears flowed down her cheeks. She nodded and said, “Aye.” “Good answer,” he said, “because you’re going to be my wife.” He grabbed for her left hand and pushed a ring onto her third finger. She widened her eyes and stared at the large, princess-cut diamond ring.

SEVENTEEN “We thank you so much for finding Claire,” Lady Queensbury said.

“Such a tragic thing to have happened,” Amelia stated.

“Aye, Amelia. How fortunate for you that it was not your maid that such a thing has happened to,” Anne exclaimed.

“I agree with you there, Lady Anne, how fortunate for my maid,” Amelia retorted with her eyebrows raised.

“I do hope no more mischief is going to happen, my lord,” Mrs. Anderson said as she seated herself beside Merrick. “Come sit down, Sarah. ’Tis not polite to stand before the master of the house.”

“Ah, Miss Green, I do hope that you have enjoyed your dinner this evening?” Merrick said.

“Yes, my lord, dinner was very enjoyable this evening,” the woman replied. “My lord, is there something special that you’re going to announce at the ball?”

“Yes, I have an announcement to make at the ball,” Merrick said.

“And what is this announcement, my lord, pray tell?” Mrs. Anderson put in.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Anderson, you’ll have to wait and see.” He stood up then and bowed at them. “If you ladies

will excuse me,” he said and left them both to wonder.

“Auntie, what kind of announcement is he talking about?” Miss Green said.

“I have no doubt the announcement will be about his engagement to one of the young ladies in this room,” Lady Queensbury stated matter-of-factly.

“Indeed, that is what I thought, Lady Queensbury, and who do you think this young lady will be?” Mrs. Anderson asked.

“I have no doubt who the young lady will be, Mrs. Anderson.” Lady Queensbury looked toward her daughter.

Anne was deep in conversation with Merrick. Mrs. Anderson and Miss Green looked in that direction.

“I see what you mean, Lady Queensbury,” Mrs. Anderson said.

“I’m sure you can see as well as everybody else here what is going on between the two of them,” the countess said, smiling triumphantly.

Two hours later, the guests were retiring. Merrick was at the door when Maria linked her arm with his. “I must say I am not at all tired. Perhaps I will see you later then?”

“Good night, Maria,” Merrick said and unlinked their arms.

Maria felt lost and unwanted. She put her face up toward his as in an offering, but he merely smiled at her and left her standing in the drawing room doorway. She took a deep breath and stalked off to her bedroom. There she angrily slammed the door shut. She ran to the bed and sat down.

“What is it, Lady Maria? Why are you so mad?”

Kate asked.

“Why am I so mad? Why, oh, why is Merrick not coming to me? It has been months, and not once has he

come to me. Lord, is he really falling for that girl?” Maria said through gritted teeth.

“My Lady, mayhap it’s because of the guests, and that’s why he couldn’t come. I mean, what if they found out?” Kate informed her logically.

“You fool. Everybody knows that I’m his mistress,” Maria said angrily.

“Do calm down, my sweet. After all, you are just his mistress, so you can’t expect him to come to you now with his potential bride right under his very nose,” a masculine voice said calmly from the doorway.

Maria turned around to see the man moving toward her. She stared up at him and bit her lip.

He strolled in, stopped in front of her, and said, “After all, if he isn’t here to keep you company, then I assume I could be a substitute?”

She thought for a moment and said, “I suppose you are right. He couldn’t have come to me with all his potential brides right under his nose, no doubt.”

“Yes, my dear,” he said as he caressed her bare shoulder.

“Hmm, I suppose you could be a good substitute for tonight.” She looked up at the blond-haired man and offered her mouth to him.

He gladly took it and kissed her roughly. She pushed him away, but he caught her and claimed her lips again. *** Merrick opened the door, slid in, and closed it quietly behind him. He leaned his head back against it and shut his eyes. He heaved a sigh of relief and opened his eyes again.

There, on his bed was a sight that shocked him to the core

of his heart.

He caught his breath and widened his eyes in surprise. All he could do at that moment was stare. He just stood there like a fool, gazing at his bride-to-be sitting up on his bed. Her legs were tucked beneath her, her hands folded gently and delicately in front of her, and she smiled up at him adorably. Her brown curls tumbled down about her face, which was blushing, and her eyes sparkled with happiness. She was wearing a white nightshirt that was far too large for her, and the sleeves were so long that they covered her whole hands.

Then he came to his senses, and he awkwardly walked to her. Once he reached the side of the enormous bed, he dropped to his knees in front of her for his legs were too weak from the sight of her to carry him any farther. All he could do was to stare at her, drinking in her beauty. She refreshed him like a cold mountain spring.

Lord, she smelt great. She smelt like lavender.

“Did you have a nice evening, Merrick?” she asked softly and got up. “I have prepared your night outfit. Mr. Paris has already retired.”

Merrick raised his brows and chuckled. “Ah, my soon-to-be bride is here in my bedroom before her wedding day.”

Christine frowned at that. “Pardon, sir, but I do not understand what that means, and besides, I like doing my duties for you,” she said and proceeded to undo his cravat.

Merrick laughed again and said, “Aye, but in a month’s time you will be my wife. Besides, you shouldn’t wait on me,” he commented thickly, licking his dried lips.

“But I still want to do my duties for you. I like it.”

She smiled and then blushed. “Hmm, sir, I err,” she hesitated.

“You?” he urged, and his eyes strayed up and down her person, examining her body.. He swallowed hard. It almost choked him.

The shirt was too big for her so that the neckline barely reached her chest, and half of her upper breasts were exposed. He could tell she didn’t wear anything underneath for he saw her nipples showing beneath the thin fabric. He could feel his mouth water and his groin harden uncomfortably with desire.

He cleared his throat and said, “Those sleeves are too long for you; come here.” He took possession of her hand and started to fold up the long sleeve. As he did so, his eyes kept straying to her slightly visible breasts. He controlled himself so he would not throw her on the bed and ravish her.

When he finished, Christine brought her fingers up to the top of this shirt collar and started to undo the row of buttons very slowly. Merrick’s nerves were on edge. It was too seductive, and he knew she didn’t know she was doing it. As he didn’t want to just stand there and expect her to do her work while slowly playing havoc with his nerves, he brought his large fingers up and stroked the side of her neck.

Christine shivered in response. She got down to the middle of his chest when Merrick gently caressed the valley of her breasts. She sucked in her breath and looked up at him.

His eyes were half-closed as he gazed down at her.

Her nerves tightened in response.

Merrick trailed his fingers toward her nipple, and once he reached his target, he started caressing it. Christine groaned with pleasure.

Merrick’s head came down to hers, and he took her lips.

Christine’s knees buckled, and she would have fallen if not for his support. His hot mouth was firing her nerves. When she opened her mouth, he slid in his tongue.

Oh God, she thought, she was going to die. This pleasure he was giving her was too unbearable.

Merrick moved his head back and stared at her. He smiled when he saw her ravishing beauty. Her eyes were bright violet, her lips were swollen red, and her cheeks were flushed. He bent down, picked her up, and carried her to the bed.

“Merrick?”

“Hmm, love?”

“Why… why do you make me feel so nice?”

He looked at her and saw her blush intensify. He laughed. “It’s the way it is, my sweet. Don’t you like it?”

“Aye, I like it very much, but I’m not sure.”

He gently laid her on the bed.

“Merrick? I don’t know. I don’t understand all this,” she said, her voice quivering as she felt the beautiful sensation of his hands stroking her collarbone.

“Don’t worry, love. You just trust me, all right? I won’t hurt you,” he assured her and kissed her where he had stroked her on the collarbone. He moved his hot, sweet mouth lower toward her cleavage. He kissed, licked, and stroked her soft, sweet skin with his tongue and lips.

Hastily he started to remove the shirt from her shoulder, slipping it away to reveal her petal-white and soft skin.

Then he quickly and expertly unbuttoned the shirt and pushed it back from her, exposing the beautiful body beneath to his eyes.

“Merrick? Must you take my shirt off?” she cried in dismay as she brought her arms to cover her body about her breasts. She was embarrassed that he should see her so intimately like this.

Merrick smiled down at the shy nymph before him.

“Don’t worry, love. I want to see you bare.” His eye glinted with mischief.

Christine saw his eyes turn a stormy teal-blue color, the pupils dilating. He was smiling, though his strong handsome face turned hard and devilish. Lord, but he looked like the very devil himself. Her heart did a somersault with that realization.

He flashed her a smile and caught her waist.

“Oh, Merrick!” she groaned with dismay again.

White, creamy flesh glowed before him. He slowly scanned the length of her body. He swallowed at the beauty of her.

Christine bit her lip, feeling very shy at the way he was looking at her. Lord, this is embarrassing, she thought in mortification. She stiffened and pushed herself up to try to get the blanket to cover her body. He caught her hand.

She looked at him in a humiliated way.

His eyes burned into hers as he slowly brought her small, delicate hand to his lips and kissed it. He proceeded to turn it over and started to stroke her palm with his hot tongue. With each stroke and with each kiss, Merrick sent hot sensations down her spine, causing her head to spin.

When he was done with her palm, he put one of her fingers into his mouth and sucked it.

Thrilling sensations were charging from her finger down to the pit of her stomach. Lord, she had never felt anything like this in her life. Her head twirled with the sensation of it all, and her body was getting tenser every second. She started to breath heavily. She was getting very excited. Oh Lord, she didn’t understand how she could get very excited just because Merrick was kissing her hand.

Merrick lips moved from her finger to her forearm, and all along he stroked her skin with his tongue. He then

dropped small, wet kisses up to her arm and then slowly and seductively to her shoulder. He then moved to kiss her throat, then up her delicate chin, and then he caught her mouth. She was so sweet and tasty. Her lavender fragrance made him drunk with desire to make her his.

Christine’s hands shook as she touched his shoulder. She could feel his strong muscles burning beneath her palm. She didn’t understand it, but her body seemed to know what it was doing. It pushed itself up against the length of his body, trying to get ever closer.

When Merrick released her mouth, she cried out in dismay.

“Oh, Merrick, I don’t understand this.”

“Hush, my love. This is love,” he breathed into her mouth.

“Will… will it hurt?” she asked, so very afraid because of her ignorance.

“Hush, I’ll try not to hurt you too much, but there is pleasure. If you are afraid, we can stop this,” he reluctantly added. He didn’t want to hurt her, and so he must do the honorable thing.

Christine looked into his eyes and saw the love within them. She bit her lip and said, “Will you be there with me when it hurts?”

“I will always be there no matter what,” he explained and kissed her lips lightly.

“All right, then. You may proceed with this lovemaking thing.” She smiled up at him.

He breathed out and relaxed his body. He didn’t know he was holding his breath, waiting for her answer. He had to be sure, and so he asked her again. “Love, are sure you want to do this?”

“Aye, sir, I want you to give me this pleasure even though I don’t understand how you can get pleasure when

you said I will hurt,” she told him logically.

“Aye, my sweet, I will give you that pleasure, and so much more that even words cannot describe it,” he whispered into her ear and started kissing her.

She giggled.

Merrick’s lips moved down from behind her ear to her neck and then down her shoulder. While he was doing this, his hands were everywhere over her body. His hand was caressing her legs, and minutes later it was behind her bottom, and behind her back, and around to her stomach.

His caresses sent pleasure and excitement through her body.

Merrick lifted himself up and stared down at her magnificent breasts. He took one into his mouth and proceeded to suck, stroke, and fondle it with his mouth.

Christine groaned with the pleasure that was shooting through her body. She shook her head from side to side, biting her lips for the feeling was so tremendously powerful.

When Merrick lifted his head, he saw the magnificent girl staring at him with desire. He realized with pride that she wanted him to do more.

“Oh, Merrick!” she sighed.

Merrick gave her an amused smile while his other hand captured her other breast. He squeezed it, causing Christine to suck in her breath.

“Merrick!” she whispered. He gazed down at her while his hands played with her breast. He caressed and fondled it lightly, and then he touched her nipple, molding it around between his finger and thumb.

Christine bit her lips; her eyes grew dark with desire.

Lord, she looked glorious. He could never get used to her beauty.

Merrick’s hand slid down and captured her womanhood. She whimpered with pleasure, and because it was so intense and alien that it scared the hell out of her, she pushed him away from her. Merrick threw himself back on top of her and started to kiss her forehead.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, concerned. God, he was so filled with desire in his head that he had no space to think that his action could scare her. He felt like an animal.

“Nay, Merrick, it’s just… were you supposed to do that? I mean, is that allowed? I mean touching me there.

It’s so private, you know, and, oh Lord, this is so embarrassing,” she told him, hiding her face beneath his massive chest.

“Hush, love. It’s all right. Look, I can touch you anywhere I want,” he told her in a low, seductive voice, and he demonstrated by moving his hand to her private parts again and started to caress. Christine whimpered, and her body shook with pleasure.

“Does that mean I can touch you everywhere, too?” she asked, lowering her eyes.

“Indeed, my love, you may touch me wherever you like.”

Christine smiled and, with hands that shook, moved to touch his massive, hard chest beneath his shirt.

She spread her palms out. She could feel the heat that conducted from his body into her palm. She licked her dried lips and moved down to his hard and flat stomach and then she slid her hands around to his back.

Her innocent touches shot loads of pleasure down his nerves. Merrick gritted his teeth and yanked his shirt off and then his breeches. He threw himself back on top of her and lowered his hand down to her womanhood. He felt the wetness there. He knew she was ready for him, but he wanted them to go further. He moved on top of her and

spread her arms out. They were face to face, legs to legs, and arms to arms. His fingers grasped hers. Her breasts were squeezed up against his chest. She could feel the hardness and powerful strength of his member against her.

Merrick then moved his hands along the length of her arms, caressing and stroking her at the same time. Both his hands reached the crooks of her armpits where he caressed and brought her body up even closer to him. He then shifted her legs apart as he placed one of his muscular thighs between her thighs, allowing her to straddle him.

Christine whimpered at the pure thrill of this excitement. Merrick, too, felt the hot, adventurous excitement like he never felt before. He then pushed himself up and stared down into her eyes.

“This will hurt a bit, my love. Do you still want to go on with this?” He asked her to make the decision for he didn’t want to hurt her although he knew that it would hurt him like hell if she denied him this moment.

Christine looked up to the huge man above her and knew love was there. “You said you will be there with me when I’m hurt.”

He nodded his head and said, “Aye, love, I’ll be there with you, but do you still want to do this?”

She nodded her head with a smile.

He promised to himself that he would give as much love and pleasure to her as much as she gave him. He lowered his head to kiss her forehead and his hand moved down to spread her legs apart. She obeyed him, although she didn’t understand what he was about to do.

Merrick moved his body closer to hers, and his finger slid into her opening. The action sent thresholds of sensation that Christine could not describe up her spine and into her head. Moaning sounds came out of her lips.

Merrick moved between her legs and started to thrust his

manhood into her opening.

Christine felt odd with his big manhood between her thighs and had to adjust to the feeling.

Merrick pushed in a bit more, and as it thrusted through her maidenhead, she gasped out in pain.

“Merrick, help!” She clutched him for support.

Merrick gritted his teeth at the mere pleasure of her tightness around him. “Don’t worry, love, I’m here,” he reassured her, and he lay still for a while so that she could get used to him inside her. Then he pushed farther into her.

Christine shook her head from side to side in pain, and tears spilled down her flushed cheek. She bit her lips until they bled.

Merrick came down to kiss her on the mouth. He could taste the salty blood in his mouth as he kissed her so that she wouldn’t scream out into the night. They stay motionless for a while, and then Merrick started slowly to thrust forward again.

Christine gave a sharp cry into his mouth. Merrick resumed pushing deeper into her. He tried to comfort her, God, how he tried, but the feeling of her so tight around him was so tremendously gratifying, and it sent hot, thrilling sensations through his body; he couldn’t think.

Christine clung to him tightly for dear life. God, it hurt so badly she wanted it to end.

Merrick climaxed and finally released his seed into her womb. Christine was panting and crying at the same time. Merrick moved up to look at her and saw her tears.

He felt guilt consuming him.

“God, I am sorry, my sweet. I hurt you,” he whispered, his mouth very close to hers. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, my sweet, but the next time, you won’t feel pain. I promise.”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly and sobbed.

He kissed her head again and said, “It is time for you to go to sleep, my love.” He kissed her again.

Christine’s body stopped shaking. Merrick pulled her closer to him, covering her body within his.

“Merrick?” she whispered a long while later. He was surprised; he thought she was asleep.

“Hmm?” “Next time, you said it won’t hurt?” she asked.

“Hmm, it won’t. It was your maidenhead I must get through. That is why I hurt you.”

“So next time?” she asked him again.

“It won’t hurt,” he replied. She nodded and dropped her head into the crook of his arm.

“I love you, Merrick,” she whispered.

Merrick closed his eyes, dropped a kiss on her forehead, and said, “I love you, too.”

EIGHTEEN Christine carried the tray of breakfast up the narrow stairs to the third floor. She had never visited there before, as it was only for the women servants. It was quite dark on the way, although she knew very well that it was bright and sunny outside. Once she had reached the landing, she looked about the long corridor. She was wondering which room they had put Claire in when suddenly she heard an angry voice booming from somewhere. It was clearly a woman’s voice. With the tray of food still in her hands, she headed in the direction of the voice.

She came to a halt at the very end of the corridor. It was quite dark there. She went to hide behind the curtain.

She felt in her gut that if she were seen there would be big trouble. So she stood there and listened to what was being said. It was very hard to make out the words for she was quite far away. She soon realized that the voice was coming from Claire’s room. She felt a shiver run down her body.

Minutes later, she heard footsteps as someone walked out the door. A woman passed her and hurried on down the corridor. She risked poking her head out and saw the woman’s back disappearing down the corridor. The woman, she repeated in her mind, had blond hair, was dressed very elegantly, and walked with her back very straight. A few seconds later, she went into Claire’s room.

As she moved toward the form lying in the narrow bed, her heart constricted with pity. Lord, how could anyone do this to her?

She placed the tray on the bedside table. She took a seat by the bed and leaned over to see Claire’s face. She saw that the girl’s face was all black and blue. There were bleeding wounds and torn skin on her face. She looked at the girl’s hands, and they too showed marks of torture.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, looking down at Claire.

The maid managed a slight smile.

“I’ve brought food for you. Think you could manage a bit?” she said, turning her head in the direction of the tray of food on the table.

Claire shook her head.

“But you must eat. It will help to heal you faster,” Christine urged.

“No, I’m not hungry,” Claire whispered.

“Perhaps later you can manage a bit,” Christine commented. “Tell me, Claire, who did this to you?”

It was a simple question, but Claire looked up at Christine in horror. She shook her head and turned away, refusing to answer the question.

“Come now, Claire. I think the earl is calling the magistrate. You know you have to tell them what happened.”

“I can’t tell,” Claire said.

“Why can’t you?” Christine asked, taking hold of the girl’s hand. Claire’s hand was shaking hard. Was she scared? Of whom? The person who did this to her? Or was there something more?

“Please, Master Chris, I want to rest,” Claire said and closed her eyes as a sign for Christine to leave.

Christine just sat there, watching Claire’s sleeping

form. At last, knowing she would gain nothing more if she stayed, she finally got up from the bed. At the door, she took one last look at the girl and left.

Christine was in thought as she descended the narrow stairs. Her eyes were on the steps when she bumped into somebody. She heard a scream and looked up in time to see Mrs. Ross almost fall down the stairs. In an instant, she quickly took hold of the housekeeper’s hands and pulled her back to safety. Mrs. Ross put her hands to her chest when she had regained her balance.

“Lord, I’m sorry, Mrs. Ross. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Christine apologized.

The housekeeper just nodded and walked past her.

“Mrs. Ross, where are you going?”

“To see Emma. She didn’t come down this morning.”

“Is she still sick?” Christine wondered. “Perhaps I’ll come up, too.” She climbed up the few steps to the landing. Mrs. Ross nodded, and they both walked down the corridor.

Mrs. Ross knocked on the door twice before she opened it and went in. They found Emma still in her bed.

Mrs. Ross went to look at the girl while Christine stood at the bottom of the bed. Mrs. Ross put her hand on Emma’s forehead.

“Lord, she’s burning hot,” the older woman exclaimed. Christine quickly came to stand behind Mrs. Ross and placed her hand on Emma’s forehead. Indeed, Emma felt very hot.

“I think she has a fever. I’m going to tell Mr. Jacob to fetch the doctor,” Mrs. Ross said anxiously as she rushed to the door.

Once Mrs. Ross was gone, Christine took hold of Emma’s hand and sat on the bed. She was staring out the

window when she felt Emma’s hand gripping hers tightly.

She turned to look at Emma, who was now looking at her with large, fearful eyes. Emma swallowed hard. She blinked several times.

“I saw them. It was terrible,” Emma said, tears spilling down her pale cheeks.

“It’s all right, Emma. You’ll be all right. Mrs. Ross is telling Mr. Jacob to get the doctor.” Christine tried to soothe the sick girl by rubbing her hands.

Emma shook her head. “I saw them. It was very dark,” she continued. She squeezed Christine’s hand harder.

“It’s all right, Emma. The doctor will be here any minute now.”

“I saw them. It was very terrible. She was laughing, like a witch. She was and he… he… he just hit her,” Emma whispered.

Christine’s interest was captured. She realized Emma was talking about Claire’s accident. Could it be that Emma saw the whole thing?

“Emma, tell me what you saw,” Christine urged.

Emma stared up at Christine with her large, fearful eyes.

“That witch, she’s evil. She laughs while he kills her,” Emma whispered.

“Tell me who was there,” Christine said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“He, that man… red… light in old barn… fat… big…” Emma shrieked brokenly, covering her face with her shaking hands.

“Tell me, Emma, who else was there?” Christine took hold of Emma’s hand in an effort to calm her down.

“She… golden… laugh… witch… they… her…”

Emma closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Go away…

away…”

“Emma, are you all right? Emma, come on.

Emma!” Christine panicked. She had never seen anyone like this before, and it scared the hell out of her. “Emma, stop. What’s wrong?”

But Emma was past listening, as she kept screaming and shaking her head. She kicked the blankets away with her thrashing legs.

A creaking sound from the doorway caused Christine to turn. Mrs. Ross and Dr. Liam rushed in.

“What’s going on?” Mrs. Ross asked, seeing the distraught girl on the bed.

“I don’t know, Mrs. Ross. Quick, Doctor, do something,” Christine pleaded.

Dr. Liam came forward, and with Mrs. Ross’s help, they managed to calm Emma down until her breathing became more regular and she lay quietly with her eyes closed.

“What’s wrong with her, Doctor?” Christine asked in a frightened voice.

“Just shock, I think,” the doctor replied without looking up.

Mrs. Ross looked at Christine, and then she said, “Master Chris, you should be downstairs; the earl is waiting for you at the stables.”

Christine looked up to Mrs. Ross in confusion, “In the stables?”

“Aye, in the stables. Now you should go else his lordship will not be happy.”

Christine looked from Mrs. Ross to Emma and then to the doctor. Dr. Liam was still tending to Emma.

He wouldn’t be ready to leave her yet. Reluctantly, she walked out the door and down to the stables.

Down at the stables Merrick said, “Come, we have

things to do.”

“Things to do?” Christine asked in confusion.

He was smiling at her with amusement; his eyes twinkled. He walked off, leaving her behind. She caught up with him in a few seconds, then she slowed down to walk beside him. She sensed him looking at her and glanced up at him. He grinned at her. They came to the front gate and saw Jacob there with two handsome horses and a curricle.

“Are we going somewhere?” she asked.

“We have things to do,” he said again. They walked to the curricle as Jacob jumped down from the driver’s seat.

“Afternoon, my lord,” the stable master said, lifting his hat in salute.

“Jacob.” Merrick nodded, gracefully climbed onto the carriage, and took the reins. Jacob signaled for Christine to climb onto the seat next to Merrick. Without hesitation, Christine climbed on and sat comfortably next to Merrick. He smiled at her and flicked the reins. The horses moved forward. They traveled in quietness.

Then twenty minutes later, Christine blurted out, “Merrick, I went to see Claire this morning.”

Merrick turned from contemplating the lovely scenery to look at her.

“I was curious,” she explained. “I saw a lady coming out her room when I was going to go in. I heard them talking, too,” she commented and looked up at him to see if she could see any reaction on his face. Nothing. No expression whatsoever. She continued. “I saw that the lady has blond hair, and when I went in to see Claire, she looked ever so scared. I asked her questions, but she said she couldn’t tell, and she wouldn’t.” She turned to Merrick abruptly. “Oh, and I went to see Emma too. She isn’t very well at all, and she was all shaken, and she said some strange things. I think she saw what happened to Claire.

The doctor said she was in shock. It was terrible, and she said there was a woman who laughed like a witch, and there was also a man. The man has red hair, and he is fat.

Merrick, do you think that Claire’s lover wasn’t actually the one who did that to her? Do you think?” Christine asked, staring up at him, hoping for an answer.

Merrick gazed down at her for a long while, then he said, “Don’t worry about it, love. The magistrate will soon find out.”

“But Merrick, this is important,” she explained.

“Now, love.” He smiled at her.

Christine sighed. When she opened her mouth to utter something, he caught her head with both his strong hands and pushed her lips against his. He kissed her roughly. After a moment, he pulled her back, staring at her.

He smiled. “Now, love, be quiet. All right?”

Christine looked at him for another long while, and then she nodded. She placed her head against his shoulder.

He gave a flick of the reins so that the horses galloped faster.

“She was very beautiful, wasn’t she?” Christine mused.

“Who was beautiful?” he said, frowning down at her.

“Your wife, Lady Angela.” She looked up at him.

He stared down at her hard and long. Then he nodded.

“She was.”

“You loved her very much then?” she whispered.

Merrick sensed the fear in her voice. He could tell she felt insecure.

“Yes, I did. She and Frederic were my life. When they were gone, I had nothing left. I was lost and alone.

There was nothing but emptiness within me. But something happened.” He stared deep into her eyes.

She waited. When he didn’t continue, she asked, “What happened?”

“Something happened to change my life,” he said, half smiling down at her, his eyes flaming with blue-green fire.

“What was that?” she whispered, her heart pumping wildly in her chest, waiting, wanting to know.

His head came to hers. His breathe tingled her face.

“You,” he whispered near her ear.

Her heart stopped beating for a full second, then it began pounding again. She slowly looked up then into his face and saw him smiling at her with love.

“Me?” “Aye, you.”

“Why?” “You reminded me of my brother the first time I saw you. I cannot abide cruelty. I couldn’t stand watching Mr. Brad whipping you.” He removed one hand from the reins, and his fingers stroked her cheek. Christine nodded her head.

“What happened to Frederic?” she asked.

“He was stolen from me. He was twelve years old when they kidnapped him and sold him on the black market. I searched for him. It took me six months, and then I found him working in a mill. I went to get him. The day I saw him, they whipped him almost to death. He was in the very same state as you when I found you. I couldn’t stand that. I had to save him. I had to save you,” he said, staring down at her. Then he smiled, and his strong white teeth flashed in the sunlight though his eyes were very sad.

“I took him with me. I knew he had the mill fever.

He was so thin. He died there in the forest. Then that night I received a message. It was from Allan, and he said Angela died from a fever. I was deeply in grief. I lost the

two most important people to me in the world.” He gritted his teeth for the recollection of the past was painful. But he had to share it with her. He felt a great relief to share his past with her.

She heard the grief in his voice and laid her head against his shoulder, hugging him to her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, my love. I found you. You have replaced what I lost. You fulfill the emptiness inside me.

You are my whole world now. Remember that,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“I will, Merrick. I always will,” she whispered again.

They rode on in silence.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived in Hammingshire town. The vehicle drew to a stop, Merrick got out, and he helped Christine down. He led her into a store. Once they were inside, a woman came to greet them with a big smile on her face.

“Ah, good afternoon, my lord. I see that you are here as promised. I am ready to measure you if you would follow me,” Mrs. West said.

Merrick chuckled.

“Why, my lord, you are not following me?” she asked in surprise.

“It’s not me you are measuring,” Merrick told her and dragged Christine in front of him to show the woman.

Mrs. West stared at Christine for a long while.

“Well, umm, if you would please follow me then.”

She led the way to the back of the store.

Christine looked up at Merrick, her confusion clearly showing in her eyes. He smiled at her and then dragged her to Mrs. West. They entered one of the small rooms.

“Now, then let’s choose the material and the kind of breeches and shirt you shall have, lad,” the woman said,

bringing out dark cotton materials.

“Not breeches, Mrs. West,” Merrick told her, chuckling.

“Not breeches, my lord?” Mrs. West asked, her eyes wide in confusion.

“It’s gowns that we want,” Merrick supplied.

“Gowns, my lord?” the woman asked, her mouth opened in the form of an O. “Aye, gowns, many of them, and one for the ball, a really beautiful one in the latest fashion,” Merrick instructed with a smile still playing around his lips.

“Gowns, my lord?” Mrs. West’s hand went to her throat. Lord, she had never heard of such a thing and at a ball, too.

“Aye, Mrs. West, gowns,” Merrick repeated and took off Christine’s hat. The short curls tumbled down to the nape of her neck. Although in her boy clothing, Christine still presented a picture of beauty with her eyes clearly as confused by the situation as Mrs. West was. Her lips were full and red, and her cheeks blushed to a rosy pink.

Mrs. West sucked in her breath when she realized what was going on. Then as she remembered her place, she nodded.

“Aye, gowns, many gowns and of the latest fashion,” she clapped her hands together, suddenly very optimistic indeed that such a beauty was hers to adorn with the latest in fashion. Aye, she’d do her best for this one, no doubt a most beautiful one. She went out, and minutes later she came back with loads of brightly colored silk and muslin materials in her arms.

“Now then, let’s choose the materials,” she said as she placed them on the table.

Merrick looked at his pocket watch. He frowned.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. West. Would you please look after this young lady for me? I have business for about an hour.

Would that be all right?” he asked, putting his pocket watch away.

Christine, who was looking at all the assorted materials lovingly, turned to him.

“You did not mention anything to me,” she said, truly hurt that he would not be here to help her choose the material.

“I’m sorry, but I will be back in about an hour.”

With that, he turned to leave. In seconds, he was out of the salon off to somewhere she didn’t know.

Mrs. West and Christine chose the materials and then the style of the gowns and then more materials for hats and gloves. There was lots to do, and an hour later, they still had not finished and Merrick still had not returned. When another hour had passed, they had finally finished. Christine said farewell to Mrs. West and went outside to wait for Merrick. She was walking along the pathway when a hand caught her arm. She jumped and turned to see Merrick smiling down at her.

“Running away from me?” he jested.

She smiled up at him and crooked her head to one side. “Hum, yes, I am.”

“You won’t get away from me, you know. I’ll hunt you down and then—” He pulled her against him. They were so close their bodies almost fused. “And then,” he said seductively, “I’ll ravish you,” he finished off.

His breath was caressing her ear, sending bolts of sensations down her spine. She giggled and said, “I’d like that.”

“All right then, my love. Wait until tonight and see,” he whispered hotly into her ear. She giggled again.

Merrick dragged her not so forcefully along the

street to the waiting curricle.

On the other side of the street, Mrs. Smith widened her eyes in shock at what she had just witnessed. Her heart was beating so furiously she thought she might die of shame. How did it happen? Suddenly, she felt her head spinning, and she was afraid. She was scared of what might happen. Nay, she couldn’t let it happen again. She had to tell her husband.

She picked up her skirts and rushed from the spot.

NINETEEN Dinner that evening was delicious, although all the guests could talk about was the accident. Merrick tried his hardest to keep the talk away from that topic, but the women were persistent. He sighed as he stared unseeingly down the table. He supposed he hadn’t really tried very hard to keep the talk mild and on other topics. His mind was constantly wandering to the lovemaking he and Christine would do that night. Lord, just the very thought stirred his blood, and he felt his member harden with pleasure. He raised his drink, smiling to himself. He wondered what Christine would think when he made love to her on one of the large armchairs. She would think it outrageous, he was sure.

“Huh, hmm! Do you have a joke you want to share, Huntingdon?” Lord Queensbury asked.

Merrick looked at the older man and shook his head. He looked down the table and saw that every pair of eyes was upon him.

“It’s nothing,” he quickly told them. He saw Max raise his eyebrows at him. Merrick ignored his friend.

“Perhaps you are thinking of the ball, my lord?”

Lady Queensbury put in. “Mayhap, my lord, you have something special to announce that night?”

Merrick turned his attention to Lady Queensbury.

He stared at her blond hair.

“My lord!” Lady Queensbury exclaimed.

Merrick blinked.

“You did not answer my question.”

It seems everyone was staring at him again, waiting for his answer. He cleared his throat and began to explain.

“Well, my lady, I assume that you will have to wait until the evening of the ball to find that out; otherwise, it would not be a surprise.” He raised an eyebrow, challenging her.

Lady Queensbury smiled in return and nodded her head in agreement although she felt very irritated inside.

“Well, perhaps we ladies should retire to the drawing room.” She stood up and walked toward the door.

The other women followed.

Jane was looking about, frowning as they entered the drawing room. Anne and Lady Queensbury took the seat near the hearth. Amelia and Mrs. Vander took the sofa at the far end of the room, and Miss Green and Mrs. Anderson walked toward the pianoforte. Lady Maria Ferguson went to the window seat alone. Still standing at the door, Jane felt as though something was wrong. She went to her mother, who was sitting on the far side of the drawing room and seemed to be in deep thought. The other groups of women were talking quietly amongst themselves.

Twenty minutes later, the men joined them.

Instantly, Anne rushed to Merrick, put her hands in his, and they both walked toward the hearth. They were talking quietly again. Jane looked up at the other men as they walked in. After Merrick, there was Sir Allan, then Lord Queensbury, who was in deep discussion about something with Mr. Wilson. Mr. Vander and his son, Alex, came next and then were followed by Mr. McNaught, and lastly Max, who didn’t seem to give a damn that nobody dared to converse with him.

Something was still missing though. All the men came into the room, scattering around in various seats.

Then it hit her hard. Lord, her brother was not at dinner.

“Mother!” Jane exclaimed loudly, causing the room to echo and Mrs. Wilson to jump. Every pair of eyes turned to them, except for Max, who looked as though he would rather be in bed. The others halted in midsentence, their mouths gaping and their eyebrows rising.

“Don’t do such a thing, dear.” Mrs. Wilson frowned.

“Oh, Mama, I’m so sorry, but something is indeed very wrong. Mama, Robert was not at dinner this evening,” she said.

“Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him at all today, dear,” Mrs. Wilson said as she began to panic, her heavily made-up face turned pale, giving her the appearance of a ghost.

Mr. Wilson, deep in conversation with his brother, halted, staring at his wife and daughter in puzzlement. He excused himself and moved to them. “Why, whatever is wrong, my dear?” he asked casually.

“Have you seen Robert today?” Mrs. Wilson asked.

“No, in fact, I haven’t.” He frowned.

“Oh, I’m so worried. Where do you think he could have gone? He could have gone home, but then he didn’t tell any of us about doing that.” Mrs. Wilson breathed, her hands fluttering to her face in distress.

Merrick turned to look at the Wilson family. He excused himself from the argument Amelia and Anne were having and approached the opposite side of the room.

Once there, he noted they looked very alarmed.

“Is something the matter, Mrs. Wilson?” he asked, looking from Jane to Mrs. Wilson.

“My lord, Robert was not here for dinner this

evening,” Mr. Wilson answered.

“Then he must have told one of you of his absence,” Merrick interjected, frowning now too.

Damnation, he should’ve paid more attention to his guests rather than fantasizing about making love to Christine.

“No, my lord. You see, neither of us have seen Robert today. Not at all, in fact. Perhaps you might know where he is?” Mrs. Wilson said.

“Well, everyone seems to be gathering over here. I say, what’s going on, eh, Huntingdon?” Lord Queensbury asked.

“Have you seen Robert at all, Lord Queensbury?”

Merrick asked, wondering what the hell was going on in his estate.

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I haven’t at all seen Robert today; how very odd,” Lord Queensbury said.

“Perhaps if we asked everyone then.” Queensbury turned from the group and announced, “Has anyone seen Robert since this morning?”

He received a shaking of heads from everyone as his answer.

“Is… is Robert missing?” Amelia said. Her thoughts at that moment were very similar to everyone’s in the room.

“Tomorrow I will tell one of my footmen to go and fetch the magistrate. There is something very odd going on here. Perhaps a magistrate would solve the mystery,” Merrick said.

“Aye, I think that would be very wise, my lord,” Mrs. Anderson said, nodding her head.

“That’s right, Merrick, perhaps a magistrate coming tomorrow would be the best solution,” Allan said, getting involved for the first time. “Perhaps I shall go into the town tomorrow. And Mr. Wilson might want to come with me

as well. You will want to report Robert’s disappearance,” he added. Mr. Wilson nodded.

“I do believe that when the magistrate is here, every one of us might be questioned,” Mrs. McNaught said from the far side of the room.

“Indeed, my dear,” Mr. McNaught agreed.

They talked about the situation for another hour before the main subject of conversation was dropped and talk turned to other matters. In another few hours everyone retired for the evening. It was an earlier night than usual.

Merrick was walking up the stairs when Max called out to him.

“Well, my friend, I see that you are very eager to go to bed. What is there to attract you?” He laughed.

“Damn you, Max, you knew?” Merrick frowned at his friend.

“Aye,” the man replied sourly.

“About her?” Merrick asked.

“You mean that ward of yours?” Max said.

Merrick frowned and raked his hand through his dark hair. “Aye, her,” he muttered.

“Yes, I knew, perhaps even before you knew. But then it wasn’t I that she deceived, and it wasn’t I that she cared so much about.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Merrick asked.

“What? And spoil the fun for you? I don’t think so.

I assume—” “Ho, shut up, Max. Let me return to my room,” Merrick muttered and turned.

“Merrick?” Max said softly.

Merrick turned to look at his friend. He raised his brow in question.

“I’m glad you did what you did.”

“Thanks, friend,” Merrick said.

“She is special, that girl. Look after her well. She cares for you, Merrick. You are a lucky man.”

Merrick nodded once at his friend and resumed climbing the stairs.

In the master bedroom, Christine was sitting on the big settee near the window when she heard Merrick come in. She turned to see him looking very tired, though the Lord knew he was still as handsome as the devil himself to her. His broad shoulders were slumped. Her heart went out to him.

“What’s wrong, Merrick?” she asked, got up, and walked to him. He gave her a warm smile.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he said, scooped her in his arms, and kissed her lips.

Once he removed his lips, she looked at him. “You look very tired, Merrick. Is being host to your guests tiring you very much after the accident?”

“No, love, it was just that—” He raked his hands through his dark hair in frustration.

“Merrick, just what?” she asked in concern.

“Nothing for you to worry about, my sweet,” he told her, turned away, and walked to the huge armchair.

Her eyes followed him.

Merrick made himself comfortable. He stared at her with his eyelids half-closed, giving her the impression of him dozing off to sleep.

She gazed at him, thinking that he was very tired, and thus she did not want to disturb him. She stood there, looking at his handsome form, drinking in his handsome features. God, how she loved him. Nothing, she vowed, would take him away from her, for if he were to be gone, then her life would be meaningless.

Merrick stared at her standing there in the golden glow of the candlelight with his eyelids half-closed. She

looked like a goddess, with her brown curls in disarray about her face and her small frame posed delicately. He looked at her body, knowing that she thought him halfasleep; he took full advantage, feasting his eyes on her body.

He gazed down at her wearing his nightshirt that was overly large for her small frame. He knew she was wearing nothing underneath, and the thought stirred his senses mercilessly.

Merrick slowly reached out his hand to her in midair, wanting her to come to him, needing her to be near him, wanting his member to be inside her. He could not bear to be far away from her, for she was his life.

He saw her hesitate. Still, he reached his hand out in midair, inviting her to come to him.

Christine stared at his hand luring her to him.

Slowly she moved to him. She placed her small hand into his large, strong one. He grasped her hand lightly and pulled her to him. Once she was beside him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and made her sit on his lap. She rested her head on his massive chest.

“Tell me, my love, what color is your ball gown?” he asked.

“Hmm, it is gold and pink silk. It is very smooth and shiny. But Merrick, it must be very expensive.”

“Nothing is too expensive for you, my love. Now tell me what other materials and styles you’ve chosen for your other gowns,” he said as he moved ever so lightly so that she would not notice, and he started to unbutton the nightshirt.

“Well, let me see now. There were so many materials, and they were all so beautiful that I did have a very hard time making my decision. Mrs. West helped me choose the materials and styles. You know I don’t know

anything about fashion.” She giggled and turned her face to look at him.

He kissed her forehead and said, “Hmm, so she chose the materials and styles for you. Tell me, what other colors were there?” He had finished unbuttoning the shirt and shifted the hem aside, revealing her creamy thighs.

“Well, there was orange, pink, green, and blue as well. I think there was also violet too. Merrick, there were too many. I can’t seem to remember all of them.”

He made an agreeing sound similar to that of a groan and lightly shoved the shirt aside at her hips.

“Yes, so what did you do after we returned from the village?” he asked as he shifted the shirt away from her breasts lightly. He could feel his member hardening with desire.

“Well, when we got back—now let me see. What did I do?” She bent her head to one side, in thought. “Oh, yes. I went to see Mrs. Ross and—oh, Merrick!” she exclaimed as a bolt of thrilling sensations thundered through her nerves. Her body jerked in surprise. “Merrick!” she whimpered.

“Now, love, tell me what you went to see Mrs. Ross about,” he said casually while his fingers were stroking and caressing her woman’s flesh.

“Merrick, how could you?” she cried while her hands gripped tightly on his forearm. She held on to him for dear life as she gave out whimpers of pleasure. “How could you—” She brought her mouth to his neck, breathing in his masculine scent.

“Now, love, tell me what you went to see Mrs. Ross about,” he urged as his other hand cupped her backside. He then proceeded to caress and stroke it.

“Merrick how could—” She couldn’t go further, for his stroking and fondling her flesh turned her brain into

mush. She couldn’t think, let alone register what he wanted her to do.

“How could I what, love?” He smiled at her. He saw her stormy eyes mounting with desire. Her breathing was thick and laborious, and her naked breasts were rising and falling with the rhythm of her breathing. His hand stopped their drawing then and started stroking her from her bellybutton up to her rib and then along the valley of her breasts.

“How could I what, my love?” he asked again, teasing her. His fingers made one full circle around one breast, and then he cupped it. At the same time, with his other hand, his fingers invaded her womanly flesh.

Christine moaned and whimpered, her body jerking up against him.

He laughed at her reaction.

Oh, the arrogant beast, she thought. How unkind he was to have taken her by surprise.

“How could you, Merrick!” she managed to say.

“How could I what, my love?” He laughed again as he stroked and fondled her breast. His head came down to her throat. He kissed and stroked her skin with his hot mouth and tongue.

Christine moaned and bent her head to one side, allowing him more access. He lowered his kiss down to her shoulder, and at the same time, his fingers and thumb were molding and squeezing her nipple. The finger on his other hand was thrusting deeper within her woman’s flesh.

Christine moaned as her body jerked up and down against his large body beneath her, dancing along the rhythm of his finger thrusting into her secretive woman place.

“Merrick—” She snuggled to him, loving what he was doing to her body. “I—” she managed as she gripped

his arm.

“You?” he urged between kisses as he moved his mouth down along the length of her back then around the side of her breast. There he started to lick and taste her honey skin with his tongue. He shifted her body ever so slightly so that his head was below her left arm while one of his hands was cupping and fondling her breast, and with the other his finger was thrusting deeper into her woman’s place. Merrick could feel the wetness within her. She was tight and hot around his finger. He loved it.

“I… I can’t,” she groaned while her hands were stroking his thick hair.

Merrick licked the side of her breast and then around it. He opened his mouth and savored her breast.

“Merrick!” She jerked with fright, for the sensation he gave her at that moment was so powerful.

Merrick stroked, caressed, and played with her breast with his mouth, tongue, and teeth. He gave out whimpers of pleasure from his throat for she was magnificent. He released his finger from her womanly flesh then and rotated her body around to face him. He stopped his kissing at her breast, and hungrily, he took her mouth.

Christine allowed the penetration of his tongue into her mouth. They kissed passionately, then Merrick released his mouth from hers and hastily began to undress himself. With her shaking hands, she tried to help him undress. Merrick managed to take his shirt off and then unbutton his breeches. Once done, he caught Christine’s head and brought her down to his mouth, where he kissed her again. At the same time, he positioned her about his waist, where he spread her legs apart so that she could saddle him.

His man root rubbed against her woman’s flesh as he cupped her backside and urged it up and down against

his body, giving them intense pleasures. Merrick trailed his hot mouth down to her throat and lower to her bosoms, where he kissed and stroked her hot skin with his mouth.

Christine brought both her arms up and wrapped them around his head, pulling him closer to her, pushing his head against her breasts. As she did this, Merrick’s erect man root thrust powerfully into her.

She moaned as he pushed into her. Their bodies jerked with the rhythm of their lovemaking.

Christine rode him up and down with the rhythm of his thrusting. She bent her head back, breathing deeply the warm night air. The pleasure he was giving her was pure ecstasy. She whimpered in her throat, singing to him their lovemaking song. Her song exploded Merrick’s blood.

He groaned as his man root drove deeper within her. He gritted his teeth for her tightness increased his pleasure immensely.

He shifted his head from her cleavage and captured one rosy nipple into his mouth. He then proceeded to suckle it.

Christine gripped his head. They drove faster and faster, each panting and climbing and still wanting more.

Their pleasure was high and powerful. When they climaxed together, their bodies exploded with the sheer ecstasy of pure pleasure. Merrick released his seed into her womb.

They were limp with the powerful exertion of their lovemaking. His hand came up to her head. She stared at him, smiling. God, he loved her. His heart swelled with happiness.

“You can’t what, my love?” he asked her breathlessly, smiling at her with mischief. His eyes twinkled devilishly.

Christine widened her eyes, and her mouth opened in the form of an O. She blinked twice. She closed her

mouth again, seeing that arrogant grin on his face. She poked his shoulder.

“You arrogant beast,” she said, her lips in a thin line.

“You can’t what, my love?” he repeated.

“I… I can’t think when you are around me. There, happy now? And stop asking me questions again when you are planning to do that to me,” she scolded.

He boomed out a shout of laughter. His chest rumbled.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, annoyed now.

“Nothing, my love, perhaps it is time for bed now.”

He stroked her cheek.

“Yes, I suppose so. I must admit, Merrick, you’ve drained all my energy away,” she teased him.

“Did I really? If I can remember it rightly, you are quite wanton and very wild too,” he said, nodding his head seriously.

“Oh, Merrick, how could you?” She poked his shoulder again.

“Was I wrong there, you little wildcat?” he commented as he lifted her up in his arms and walked to the bed.

He laid her between the sheets, and then he took the rest of his clothing off. Once he was naked, he laid next to her. He wrapped her in his arms, with her body molding against his naked one. Her back was against his chest, her naked buttocks were against his male member, and her head was under his chin.

“Good night, Merrick,” she yawned.

“Good night, my love,” he replied, pulling her closer to him. A little while later, Christine was asleep.

Merrick was awake for a long time. He lay there, hugging her close to him, keeping her warm in his strong arms.

TWENTY Emma hesitated at the door. She didn’t know whether her decision was right or wrong. But this was for the earl. He needed to know everything before it was too late.

She felt a hand behind her back, squeezing her for encouragement.

“You’re doing the right thing. I’m so glad you told me what happened that night about Claire, and now you must tell the earl.” Betty nodded her head, encouraging Emma to go forward and open the door.

“I was so blind, Betty, and I think so is everybody else, even his lordship. We have to tell him,” Emma said, still feeling very weak and very sick. “You will be there with me, won’t you?” Emma asked, feeling unsure.

“Oh, yes,” Betty said.

Emma nodded and opened the door. They both peeked inside. No one was there. It was very quiet. They turned to look at each other.

“He is not here,” Emma whispered.

“Come now, Emma.” Betty dragged the other girl toward the master bedroom door.

“All right, Betty, stop dragging me. I can walk,” Emma complained.

They stared at each other and then nodded in agreement to go in together. The girls marched forward,

and Emma grabbed for the door handle. Slowly the door opened wider. Both girls walked in, they looked around, and— They were shocked. Their bodies froze, their brains—well, they just couldn’t accept what their eyes saw!

Emma tried to breathe. She really did, but it didn’t work so she just blinked twice and everything went black.

She collapsed to the floor.

Betty didn’t know that her friend had just crumbled to the floor. She was still staring at the woman.

Betty blinked twice, and her legs weakened.

Christine was unbuttoning Merrick’s nightshirt down to the waist, revealing the whiteness of her chest to her midriff, when she saw the two girls come in. She was getting changed into her boy clothing.

She thought she was going to die of humiliation.

Then she realized that she was going to be the third in line to die when she saw first Emma fall to the floor, and Betty would soon as well. She quickly covered herself and rushed toward the girls.

“Oh, Betty, please don’t faint!” Christine shouted.

Betty opened her eyes again.

“Oh, Betty, please don’t faint. Tyson, please come out. I think we need help here,” Christine shouted. The boy poked his head from behind the curtains. His young eyes widened with horror when he saw the two women in their odd positions. One was on the floor, looking as white as a ghost and probably half-dead, and the other was staggering around dizzily. She too was very pale and leaning on Christine for support.

“My God, what is wrong with them?” he shouted, trying to lift Betty’s heavy weight onto his small one.

Christine pushed Betty off her. Betty’s body hit Tyson, and they both crashed to the floor. Christine rushed to them,

her face concerned.

“Tyson, are you all right? Betty, please get up,” Christine said.

“I’m fine, really,” Tyson lied. He was breathless due to the heavy weight on top of him.

Betty stared up at Christine. God, she was so lucky to have an angel looking down on her, she thought happily, and slowly she shut her eyes with a smile.

“Betty, don’t faint. Betty, come back. It’s me, Chris!” Christine shouted.

Instantly, Betty’s eyes flew open. She stared hard and long up at Christine.

“Master Chris?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s Chris, Betty. I’m sorry,” Christine said, holding out her hand for the other girl to take. Betty stared at it long and hard.

“My God, I should have realized. I was so blind,” Betty said.

Christine wrapped her arms around Betty, laughing now. “I’m sorry, Betty.”

“Nay, that’s all right, Master Chris,” Betty said.

“Hmm, I would hate to stop this lovely reunion, but as you can see, we still have a girl down here that needs our attention, immediately,” Tyson reminded them logically.

Both girls looked down at Emma lying on the floor, her face very pale.

“Poor Emma. She isn’t very well, is she?” Christine commented, kneeling down next to the girl. She tried to lift Emma up. Betty came to help. Both girls carried Emma and laid her on the bed.

Emma fluttered her eyes open. She turned her head and saw Tyson and Betty looking down at her with concern. She turned her face to the other side, and her eyes

widened. She saw the beauty looking down at her. She opened her mouth.

“Master Chr… Chris?”

“Aye, Emma, ’tis Chris,” Christine said, coming closer.

Emma opened her mouth wider, she lifted her head up, and then she dropped it back onto the pillow and fainted dead away again.

The sun felt beautiful that day. With Merrick’s permission, Christine took Tyson out to the lake, and they played there for two hours. Then the overjoyed Tyson returned home in the curricle that he longed to ride in with Jacob.

Now Christine sat by the window in Merrick’s bedroom, staring out at the beautiful garden below.

Merrick and his guests were picnicking outside. Now and again, she heard their laughter drifting toward her. She was smiling to herself like an idiot as she sat there admiring him. She shifted her eyes to look at the ring on her finger that she only wore when she was alone. She caressed the gem and smiled. How she loved him.

She sighed and turned when she heard the door open. She thought it was one of the maids, but there in the door way stood the beautiful redheaded woman, Lady Maria Ferguson.

Christine jumped up from her seat in surprise. The woman gave Christine a cold smile and came toward her.

“Is… is there something you want, Lady Ferguson?

Merrick is not here,” Christine stammered.

“I know he is not here. But I am not here to see him. It is you that I am here to see,” Maria said softly. She walked around Christine, inspecting her, and snorted.

Christine frowned at the woman glaring at her.

Suddenly, she felt a coldness settling in her stomach. “Why would you want to see me?”

Maria yanked Christine’s face around and gripped her chin until the skin went red.

“Don’t play games with me, girl. I know your secret.” She laughed coldly and then said, “You are quite pretty. No wonder Merrick falls for you.”

Christine stiffened. Maria thrust her away with a sneer. “Do you think he will marry you, a mere peasant?

When he could marry somebody like Anne, a Lord’s daughter and an heiress?”

“But Merrick—” “Merrick?” Maria laughed harshly. “You call him Merrick now? How dare you?” She slapped Christine on the cheek.

Christine sucked in her breath. She was very surprised at the sudden attack.

“Ah, you think I can’t do that to you, do you, girl?”

The woman laughed.

“What do you want?” Christine asked, her voice shaking.

“What do I want?” Maria snorted softly. “Nay, girl, I am here to warn you.”

“Warn me? About what?” Christine asked.

“Ah, so young and naïve. About Merrick, that’s what.”

“What? But, why?” Christine was confused.

“Do you think—” Maria grabbed a bunch of Christine’s hair and yanked her forward, “that Merrick would marry a low-born girl like you? Nay, girl, he will not. Listen well and learn for I have good advice for you.”

Maria rubbed her fingers over Christine’s hair. It was smooth and soft. She stared at the young woman, and her

heart burnt. God, how beautiful this girl was. The light high behind her head made her look angelic indeed. And that made Maria’s heart twist with hatred. How dare this girl come and steal Merrick from her. He was hers. He was never anyone else’s. She had vowed to get even, and even

she would get.

“He is only using you,” she said.

Christine shook her head, and her tears tumbled down her cheeks. “No, he’s not like that,” she cried quietly.

“Ah, you know him so well then? Better than I who have known him for years?” Maria said. “Girl, he is using you. He likes to play with innocent girls like you. When he is satisfied and tired of you, he will indeed look for another.

He will not marry you, and that is what you are looking for, is it not?”

“But he asked me. He already asked me to—” “To what?” Maria shouted.

“To marry him. To be his wife,” Christine said.

He had asked this girl to marry him? How could he? She glanced down and saw the beautiful stone that she heard rumors about on Christine’s finger. She had heard that only the future Countess of Huntingdon was allowed to wear that particular ring. Was Merrick serious about this chit? How she wanted to yank that ring from the girl’s finger and place it on hers instead. How she craved it.

Maria took a deep breath and said, “And you believe him?” She sighed when she saw Christine nodding her head. She glared at the younger girl’s hair. She had the urge to yank that mop of golden curls and burn it.

“Like I said, you are naïve,” she said instead.

Christine looked at the older woman and frowned.

“Please go.”

“I will go, girl, but hear me well. Merrick has asked me to marry him too,” she lied, eyeing the girl with hatred.

“What?” Christine twisted around to look at Maria.

“But he can’t. He—” “Can’t, my girl?” Maria laughed softly. “Do you believe what he said? Aye, he has asked me, and then without so much as how or why, he broke it off. And now he has asked you, too. He no doubt will ask Anne, too, then. But perhaps he will marry her for she is, after all, a lady and an heiress.” Maria saw Christine pale, and her heart glowed. She sighed yet again and turned to the door.

Her work here was done. Her hand was on the door handle when she thought to add, “Oh, and by the way, did you know that he killed his wife? I suppose she was too much of a hindrance for him to enjoy life.” She laughed and then sailed out the door.

Those words were breaking Christine’s heart. But it couldn’t be true. What Maria had said was a lie. Aye, she had lied. But had Merrick told her the truth? That he loved her and wanted to marry her?

Oh Lord, everything was in chaos in her mind.

But she loved him.

Numb, she turned toward the window. She saw Merrick and Lady Anne standing in seclusion from the rest of the group. Anne was laughing at what Merrick was saying. From where she stood, Lord, how they looked right together. Could he have loved Anne and all the time he was playing with her? A mere common girl? Nay! Oh God, how she hurt. Merrick, don’t lie to me. Love me. Her heart cried in anguish. *** The day of the ball was getting near, and he had not uttered one word to her of marriage. She was getting panicky. Was he going to propose to her or was he not? But

the servants had gossiped that he would. She was sure that he would, and everybody was sure that he would. But what if he did not? Only one week. The time was too short for her liking. She must act fast. If the earl did not act now, then as her mother had put it she would have to give him a push. And push him she would because the rest of her life depended on it.

“The flowers are beautiful at this time of year, my lord,” Anne said.

“Hmm, they are indeed,” Merrick responded without much interest.

Anne had led him, without him noticing, to a very secluded area where her playacting was to begin. Here no one could see them, though with a slight scream from the maid everyone could hear them.

“Lovely, is it not, my lord?” She smiled at him and suddenly pretended to sprain her ankle. “Oh dear!” she gently sighed and fell to the ground.

Merrick leapt to catch her in time. He was supporting her in his arms when Anne wrapped her arms around his neck and roughly pulled him to her. They fell on the ground together.

“Oh, my lord,” she pretended to sound very breathless.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he pushed himself up.

Anne panicked; she didn’t want him to get up just yet.

“I don’t know, my lord.” She breathed and closed her eyes, pretending to faint.

“Anne?” Merrick asked. “Hold still,” he said and gently laid her head against the tree. “I’ll find a maid to help you.”

“No!” Anne shouted as she tried to prevent him

from leaving her. But it was too late. Merrick was already up and turning away. But he didn’t move; he just stood there and stared.

Christine was not ten feet away from them— watching them.

Merrick frowned when he saw her look of horror.

He took a step toward her, but she shook her head as tears flowed down her cheeks.

“Chris!” Merrick said, alarmed.

“So it’s true,” Christine cried.

“What’s true?” Merrick asked, confused.

Christine turned, pushed away the maid who had just arrived on the scene, and ran back to the Hall.

“Chris!” Merrick shouted. But Christine did not stop. He shook his head and was about to run after Christine when his arm was caught.

“My lord,” Anne said. “My ankle, I think it is sprained.”

“Anne,” Merrick said through gritted teeth in frustration. “You!” He turned to the maid on the ground.

The maid paled when she thought the earl knew of their plan.

“My lord, I didn’t. It wasn’t—” “Take care of Lady Anne,” he instructed and ran toward the Hall.

With tears in her eyes, Christine ran toward the Hall.

So it was true. She couldn’t believe it. How could he betray her? How could he make a fool out of her? She shook her head and ran up the stairs. She collided with Mrs. Ross, who was coming down. The woman caught her by the arms and looked into her face with concern.

“Master Chris? Is everything all right?” she asked.

Christine could only shake her head, push the

housekeeper’s hands from her arms, and run.

She pushed the door open and was about to run into her room when between her tears she saw her grandmother about to open the door.

“Grandmamma?” she cried.

Mrs. Smith turned and saw Christine running toward her. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she opened her arms for her granddaughter. Christine ran into Mrs. Smith’s opened arms, and they hugged tightly.

“Oh, my sweet.”

“Grandmamma,” Christine sobbed and clung to the woman.

“Hush now, love. Everything is going to be all right now.”

“But, Grandmamma, ’tis the earl. He knew that I—oh, Grandmamma, I’m sorry,” Christine cried.

“I know, love, I know. I won’t let him make a fool out of you. I won’t let you suffer, my sweet. I won’t.” Mrs. Smith cupped Christine’s face. “’Tis my fault, Christine. ’Tis my fault I did not teach you the ways of the world, of how a man can manipulate an innocent girl. ’Tis my fault.

We cannot let this masquerade go on any longer, my sweet.

We must leave now. He will marry that girl and leave you stranded like—darling, we must leave now.”

Christine was tormented at the thought of leaving Merrick. Should she stay and, as her grandmother put it, let Merrick make a fool out of her? But she loved him.

“Grandmamma, I love him,” she cried, her body shaking uncontrollably.

“My dear, would you stay and let him make a fool of you? Does he love you as you love him? Will he marry you?” Mrs. Smith said logically.

Christine sobbed. Was her grandmother right? Had Merrick meant what he said? That he loved her? Or had he

only said that to woo her? So perhaps she had turned a blind eye and deaf ears to what everybody else was saying.

Everybody knew that Merrick would ask Anne to marry him, and she so stupidly had believed the lies he had told her. That he loved her and wanted to marry her. Nay, she couldn’t stay and let him make a fool out of her.

“Aye, Grandmamma, we shall leave,” she cried.

“Leave now?” Merrick shouted. “Why? What is this about?” He was astounded and angry.

Christine turned away from him, refusing even to look at the man she loved but who had lied to her.

Mrs. Smith looked at Merrick. “You, my lord have the gall to even ask such a question?” she said coldly, her eyes narrowed. “You are no different from any of them.

Just because you are of noble birth and are rich, it does not mean you should have the power to ruin a girl’s life. Do you hear me? You have no right at all.”

Merrick shook his head. “What’s this, Mrs. Smith?

I don’t understand.” He raked his fingers through his hair.

When Mrs. Smith just shook her head without replying to his question, he turned to Christine. “Come, Christine.

Tell me, my sweet. What’s this about?”

She turned her teary eyes to him and shook her head. “How could you?” she cried.

Merrick came to her and pulled her into his arms.

She pushed him back in disgust.

“Christine,” he said weakly. “What is wrong, my sweet?” he asked as he pulled her back into his arms.

She shook her head and drummed at his chest with her fists to make him let her go.

“Damn you, you betrayed me. You lied to me,” she cried. “I hate you. Let me go.” She tried to push him away.

But the man was strong, and she couldn’t even budge his imprisoning arms.

“I have never lied to you, Christine. Just listen, I— ” “You have never? Then what did I just see?

Merrick? My lord? Answer me that,” she shouted.

Merrick’s eyes widened as realization hit him. He let go of her arms and cupped her face. “My love, it is not what it seemed.”

“Then what?” she asked, sobbing.

Merrick moved to kiss her forehead. “It’s not what you think. Anne sprained her ankle and she fell—” She pushed him away and took three steps back.

“Tell your lies to your other lovers. I don’t want to hear them,” she said quietly and stared hard at the ring on her finger. Slowly, she took it off and handed it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, incredulous.

“It’s over, my lord,” she said quietly and placed the ring in his palm. Slowly, with her head bowed and tears blinding her eyes, she walked out the room.

Mrs. Smith shook her head, and with a heavy heart she left.

Merrick just stared at the ring in his hand, and he couldn’t seem to think. What had happened? Everything was going just fine until now. Oh, God, was the torment in

his life never to end? Must he lose all the people he loved?

One by one, just like that? Would God ever relieve him from the torture in this life? Merrick howled with anguish.

The sound reflected his tormented heart.

TWENTYWENTY-ONE Talk and laughter drifted pass Merrick’s deaf ears. The guests were gathering in the drawing room, and he was still hiding in his study, slumped in his armchair, not giving a damn about anything.

“Come, Merrick, you have been holed up in here for seven days now,” Max said.

“Shut up and leave me alone, Max,” Merrick snarled, his bloodshot eyes glaring at the other man. He finished the last of the whisky in one gulp. The fiery liquid burnt all the way down to his belly. The intense heat did not torment him enough. He wanted more. He wanted his mind to slide into oblivion. He poured himself more whisky.

Max caught his hand roughly. “Enough, Merrick.

You want to kill yourself?” he asked in disgust.

Merrick looked up to his friend and raised his eyebrows mockingly. “I would welcome it, friend.” He shoved Max’s hand away and poured the rest into his glass.

He was about to drain the lot into his mouth when Max yanked the glass away and downed it himself.

“Enough is enough, Merrick. You have guests waiting. ’Tis your ball. You should be out there welcoming them.” He caught Merrick by the arm and helped him up from the chair.

“Leave me alone, damn you, Max,” Merrick groaned. “Leave me to the devil.”

There were three knocks at the door, and then the butler walked in. He tried not to show how sad he felt about his master’s behavior of late. To be honest, he thought it was even worse than when the earl had lost his wife and son. His lordship was killing himself for sure. But what could he, a butler, do?

“What is it, Ross?” Max frowned when the butler did not say a thing.

“Oh, Your Grace, ’tis Peter. He is back and here to see his lordship,” Ross said.

“Peter, good. Bring him in,” Max said and released Merrick, who slumped back into his seat.

Seconds later, Peter was shown into the study. The man took one look at his master and raised his eyebrows.

“Your Grace.” Peter bowed to Max. “Glad that you are here, man. Good news, I hope?”

Max asked.

“Aye, Your Grace, good news indeed. And, err, his lordship?” He looked at Merrick. He almost had a heart attack when he saw the untidy cravat, the dark hair in disarray, the rough, unshaven chin, and the wrinkled shirt that he had no doubt would take at least three hours of hard labor to straighten. Though Peter was a private detective, he was a very grand one indeed. His breeches and coat were of the best quality and design, and his hair was always neat and stylish as the fashion went. He took pride in his clothing and was quite shocked to see the great earl in such a state of drunken mess.

“Ah, my loyal agent. Good that you are back, eh?”

Merrick said sarcastically.

“My lord, is something the matter?” Peter asked.

“Nothing is the matter. Just give the damn news,”

Merrick shouted.

Peter’s heart almost jumped out of his chest. Never before had he seen his master this way. The Earl of Huntingdon that he knew before was always in control in very messy situations. He supposed there was a first time for everything.

“Well, man, lost your tongue?” Merrick shouted again.

“Don’t mind him, Peter. He is drunk and right now quite sulky,” Max said coolly.

“I am not drunk, damn it!” Merrick growled, and then more quietly he said, “I am not sulky.”

“The news, Peter,” Max intervened.

Peter looked from Max to Merrick. What had gone on here? He hesitated for only a second and then began.

“My lord, the family that Lord Queensbury is looking for, I’ve found out where they are.”

“Good. We will tell the earl tonight,” Merrick said.

“Peter,” Max said, “help me take Merrick up so that Paris can swing his magic wand to make him presentable to society. The ball is tonight, and they are expecting him.” He hooked Merrick’s arm over his shoulder. Peter hurriedly took the other, and they dragged Merrick up to his room. *** Mrs. Smith glanced at Christine sitting near the window, staring out into nothingness. Her heart ached for the girl.

Am I doing the right thing? she asked herself again. She was scared that she might lose Christine. The girl had not eaten very much for days now. Her complexion was pale, and her eyes shadowed. She looked so frail.

“Christine?” She touched the girl’s shoulder. “You

should eat something, my love.”

Christine shook her head. “I’m not hungry, Grandmamma.”

“But, Christine, if you don’t eat, you’ll get sick,” Tyson intervened. He brought her some broth in a small bowl and held it out to her. “You must eat,” he said. “Else Merrick won’t be happy with you,” the boy commented logically.

The name Merrick caused Christine’s tears to flow yet again and her heart to constrict painfully. She shook her head, got up, and pushed Tyson away from her. Both Tyson and the bowl of broth fell to the floor. The boy started to whimper.

Oh God, now what had she done? Tyson was innocent in all this. Why did she act in such a way toward the boy she loved as her very own brother?

“Oh, Tyson, I’m sorry,” she cried. She hugged him and sobbed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Christine? Why are you crying so much now?

Did… did Merrick beat you?” the boy asked.

“Nay, my love,” Christine shook her head.

“I know he won’t. He’s too nice to beat you,” Tyson said, nodding his head.

Christine bit her lip. Aye, Merrick would never beat her, and she knew that. He was always so kind. But then why did he betray her? She shook her head and commanded herself to stop thinking about him. It seemed no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts would always stray to him. She would see his handsome face smiling at her, his teal-blue eyes looking at her with love, with lust, with anger, and with… longing.

She got up abruptly. She couldn’t bear it, seeing Merrick’s face in her mind’s eye. She threw herself on her bed and cried.

“My love,” Mrs. Smith stroked her hair. “I am sorry, my sweet. I know you love Merrick, but it is just that I have lost your mother, Sophia, that way, and I certainly don’t want to lose you the same way,” she said sadly.

“Grandmamma, I know you care for and love me,” Christine whispered.

“I don’t want you to be like this, my love,” Mrs. Smith said. “I don’t want you to suffer this way. You love him too much. I am sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do. I love him, and he has proposed to me. He gave me his mother’s ring,” Christine said.

“You did not tell me this. That ring that you gave back to him?” the woman asked, frowning.

Christine nodded.

“But he must have loved you, too, if he proposed to you and gave you that ring.”

“Indeed, that is right,” a male voice said from the door. They turned and saw in surprise the Duke of Lynwood standing there.

“Err, I did tell them that Christine is not well, that she is crying, but they still want to see her,” Tyson put in, blushing.

“Your Grace, what are you doing here?” Christine asked.

Max came toward her and smiled. “I don’t want Merrick to lose his trophy because of a mere misunderstanding.” He laughed.

“What misunderstanding?” Christine frowned.

“Merrick loves you, my dear. He is right this very moment killing himself because of you.” Max didn’t want his best friend to be like him. He wanted his friend to have happiness for once in his life. Merrick had suffered too much. He didn’t need any more torment.

“He is?” Christine asked with a bit of hope in her heart.

“Aye, my dear, he is.”

“But, he… he lied. I saw him with Lady Anne, they were—” “An act, my dear, an act on Anne’s part,” Max said coldly. It disgusted him—women and their bloody tricks.

He knew their jealous nature too well not to notice when a plan was laid.

“That’s right, Christine.”

Christine turned to watch Mrs. Ross walking into the room.

“A plan. I questioned the maid, and Lady Anne told her to scream when she presented herself to let the guests know that the earl and she… you know my meaning,” she finished off.

“But Lady Ferguson said—” “Maria lied,” Max cut in. “Maria is a jealous mistress. I know her. Whatever tales she managed to tell you are all lies.”

Christine looked at Max and saw the sincerity there. She turned to look at Mrs. Ross, and the woman nodded. Then she looked at her grandmother.

“Grandmamma, I—” “Go to him, my sweet, you have my blessing and your grandfather’s, too,” the woman said.

Mrs. Ross sighed. “Dear me, not much time left.

Tyson, fetch Betty and Emma now. We must get ready,” she said.

Tyson’s eyes widened. He nodded furiously, and he rushed out the room.

“Where are we going?” Christine asked.

“To the ball, my dear,” Max supplied.

TWENTYWENTY-TWO Merrick scanned the ballroom with his now-clear, sharp eyes. The women were dressed in their lovely gowns with low décolletage and beautifully made-up faces. They laughed and talked with delight, their fans fluttering about.

The men looked all very elegant with their colorful tailcoats, and some, mainly the elderly gentlemen, still wore their long white wigs.

His head didn’t hurt so much now compared to hours before. After Max and Peter had dragged him from the study that afternoon, Paris had dumped him in a very warm tub, and the man had as usual dressed him in his favorite sober black tailcoat and black breeches with white shirt. Paris had attacked him with a pair of scissors and a very sharp blade and had shaven him and cut his hair into order. Now he looked the handsome, powerful earl that he usually did. Though if one dared to look deeply to his eyes, the person would neither see a hint of laughter nor a spark of life there. They were just a dull teal-blue color.

“This is very lovely, my lord,” Anne said. He smiled at her, though the smile did not reach his eyes.

Tonight Anne had dressed with care for it was her show. She wore her most beautiful and expensive gown.

The pale pink color complimented her petal-white skin.

The sleeves came down to her forearm, and she wore an

emerald necklace and matching pear-shaped earrings.

“Enjoying yourself, Lord Queensbury?” Merrick asked, nodding toward the older man.

“Indeed, Huntingdon, indeed.” The older man nodded.

“There are a lot of people here, my lord,” Lady Queensbury commented.

“You are looking lovely, Jane, I must say; that dress of yours doesn’t look that childish after all,” Anne commented, snarling at her cousin.

Jane frowned at Anne and turned away without a word.

Merrick felt uncomfortable about what Anne had just said to Jane. In truth, he felt sorry for the girl who was being bullied by her own cousin.

“Eh, Huntingdon, after this I would like to talk to you in private,” Lord Queensbury was saying. “It’s about our business, you see. I am anxious about it.”

“Yes, Lord Queensbury, we’ll talk. I have some information that I think is very important,” Merrick responded.

“Why, that is good news indeed,” Lord Queensbury said, smiling.

“What business is this?” Lady Queensbury asked, staring at her husband.

“Oh, it is—” Lord Queensbury halted and frowned, for there was an uncomfortable silence settling in around the ballroom.

Merrick realized that something was indeed wrong.

He wondered what it was that had made every head in the ballroom turn toward the door. He himself gazed in that direction. Because he was very tall, he stood out in the crowd and he saw her. Suddenly, his heart was drumming hard in his chest. He felt like he was suffocating, and he

couldn’t seem to breathe properly at all.

Good Lord above, this was indeed an angel. He swallowed and just stared at her. He didn’t move an inch.

Until just then, Merrick had never realized just how lovely she really was. She was wearing a gold and pink silk gown of the Empire style like that of Princess Josephine.

The gown fitted her beautiful shapely body snuggly, accentuating her slender figure. Her milky skin glowed before his eyes. Her short golden curls were now piled into a coiffure about her head with some tendrils caressing her face and ears.

Good Lord, but she took his breath away, and he felt his knees weakening.

Christine froze when she realized that the guests had turned one by one to observe her. God, she just wanted to run away. She couldn’t bear them ogling her like that. She was scared, but the Duke of Lynwood was beside her, supporting her and holding on to her elbow, not to mention that both of her grandparents were behind her.

But she still felt very uncomfortable with the sea of faces staring at them.

Her eyes then caught Merrick’s. All she could do then was stare back at him. The sea of faces disappeared from view, and only this handsome man standing before her did she see. She realized then that she loved him so much that her heart cried out in pain. She wanted to run to him and hug him. But she couldn’t, not with these people around them.

Max pulled her forward when she didn’t move. She hesitated just a bit and then took a deep breath and strolled forward with him.

Merrick’s heart thundered harder as she came closer to him. Lord, but he almost didn’t recognize her. She was so beautiful that it knocked the wind out of him. She was

standing beside him now, within his reach. He could touch her—he could caress her soft skin. But he didn’t.

“Good evening, Merrick. May I present to you Miss Smith,” Max said and nudged Christine toward Merrick.

Merrick did not hear his friend or the whispering of his guests about this young beauty. All that he could do was stare at Christine’s face. Her eyes were gazing back up at him. God, how he craved to touch her, even just a little bit, on her softly blushing cheek, or even the tendril of her golden hair that was dancing in the air beside her face. Just

a little.

“Perhaps you would like to dance, Merrick, with Miss Smith?” Max asked when his friend couldn’t say anything and just stared at the girl with eyes that seemed to say, “I would swallow you whole and keep you from everyone else if I could.”

Max touched his friend’s arm.

Merrick glanced at the man and nodded. He put his hand out, waiting.

Christine turned her eyes to his large hand, and hesitantly she placed her small one on his.

Lord, was he still angry with her? Would he forgive her if she pleaded with him? Christine’s mind was in a jumble.

They met in the middle of the ballroom. Everyone was standing around them, watching, waiting for something to happen. All was in silence. Then the music started. One by one, couples were dancing around them, but they just stood there, staring at each other. The audience too seemed to be staring at the couple in the middle of the ballroom.

Christine took a deep breath. “Merrick?” she whispered. She saw him raise his eyebrows. “I am sorry I

did not listen to you.” She bit her lower lip.

He didn’t move or say anything. He just stared down at her.

Christine was nervous. His quietness scared her even more. He seemed to be just standing there, waiting.

She wanted to run back home and hide. She wanted to do that so badly, but, oh, how she wanted to show just how much she loved this man too. She wanted to make all his pain go away. She wanted to bring happiness into his life.

She wanted to give him what he had always longed for every time he gazed into her eyes. And so she must show

him.

“Merrick, would you do something for me?” she asked nervously. She looked up at him and saw him nod.

She smiled and sighed with relief.

“Merrick?” She bowed her head, and then a second later, she looked up into his eyes again. “Would you please… would you please ask me… ask me to marry you again?”

Merrick frowned, and then his eyes lit up. God, how he wanted to hear those words! He tried not to show too much of how he felt, but damn if he didn’t smile, even just a bit.

“Christine?” he began and saw her looking up at him with longing. There was pleading in her eyes as well.

He saw her torture that was reflected in his own heart.

How he wanted to relieve her of such pain. He moved his head closer to her and then whispered, “Would you be my wife, my sweet?”

Christine blinked, and the tears flowed down her cheeks. “Oh, Merrick, yes, yes, please. I love you so much,” she whispered.

“And I you, my love,” he said as he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. He was about to kiss her when

he realized there were people around them, watching them, though mayhap they had not heard their whisperings of love. Instead, he bowed low to Christine and brought her hand to his lips. He lightly and seductively kissed her hand while all the time he gazed down at her. His eyes twinkled with their secret love. His lips were hot against her skin.

His kiss sent a tingling sensation down her spine.

Christine’s heart was drumming in her chest, and she wanted to cry because her love for him was so deep.

“Would you care to dance, Miss Smith?” he asked.

She blinked twice, not registering what he was asking of her. “But, Merrick!” she exclaimed, panicked. She didn’t want to embarrass him in the ballroom full of important guests. “I don’t think that is such a good idea.”

“Don’t worry, my love.” He smiled at her, winked, and then whisked her along with the rhythm of the music.

“Who do you think that was, Mama?” Jane asked Mrs. Wilson, for she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the woman who danced around the ballroom in the earl’s arms.

“I don’t know, dear. Why just look at her. She is very beautiful indeed,” Mrs. Wilson commented.

Anne’s eyes burned as she glared at the two figures gliding about the ballroom. Her anger and hatred for the young woman mounted every second. The earl seemed to be enjoying her company very much. Why just look at him; he was smiling and seemed to be very infatuated with the chit.

“Who… who is that, Mother?” Anne managed to say, still gawking at the beautiful chit.

“Why, I don’t know. I think she looks familiar though,” Lady Queensbury said. She could have sworn she had seen her somewhere before.

“Richard, I think that girl looks very familiar. I just don’t know where I have seen her, but I know her from

somewhere. Richard, help me out here.” Lady Queensbury tugged at her husband. When he didn’t respond, she angrily turned to berate him for his lack of attention. Good Lord, their daughter’s future was at stake here.

Lady Queensbury halted her tugging when she saw her husband staring at the dancing couple. His eyes were dull and unfocused, his expression a spark of comprehension. He looked very happy, but then he looked shocked at the same time. She turned from her husband in frustration and back to the dancing couple. She stared hard at them. There was nothing special about them that should have caused such an interest from her husband.

Lord Queensbury, on the other hand, thought he was asleep and was dreaming of his lovely Sophia. He thought right then that she was attending one of the balls he had promised to take her to, and now she was dancing with the host, his good friend, his lordship Mathew Washington the Fourth Earl of Huntingdon. He thought how lovely she looked, with her brown curls and her fair skin.

He frowned. But this couldn’t possibly be, for she couldn’t be that young. Suddenly, his heart constricted painfully, for he knew she was gone, and this girl dancing with Merrick was only an imitation of his lovely Sophia.

Lord, he had loved her. But life, it seemed, was cruel, for Hades had taken his lovely Sophia away from him eighteen years ago. My lovely Sophia, he repeated in his mind, gazing at the dancing girl. How very alike they were.

The music stopped, and Merrick drew his lovely Christine toward him. He pulled her close and whispered to her. “You danced very well, my sweet. My compliments.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “I thank you, my lord,” she spoke aloud.

“Thank you, Miss Smith,” he also spoke aloud.

Once they were off the dance floor, people were instantly surrounding them, eager to meet this new young woman. Each person wondered where the Duke of Lynwood could have found her, for they had never seen her before.

“Well, my lord, would you at least introduce this lovely young lady to us?” one of the men moaned, obviously dumbstruck by her beauty.

“That’s right, my lord. ’Tis very unkind of you to keep her all to yourself,” another commented.

“Who is she, my lord?” a woman asked, pushing herself in to get to the front of the line.

“Ah, ladies and gentlemen, if you don’t mind, I would like to return this lovely young lady to her grandparents.” Merrick laughed, guiding Christine and trying to fight their way through the crowd.

Christine was scared that she should receive so much attention. In truth, no one had ever looked at her before, and now it was too much. She was very frightened by these people’s interest, so she clung as close as possible to Merrick’s arm. Occasionally, she tried to smile at them, but they were just a sea of faces she did not recognize. At last, they were able to reach Mr. and Mrs. Smith. As they approached them, Merrick saw that both husband and wife were smiling proudly at Christine.

Merrick handed Christine to Mr. Smith with a smile.

“Would you care for a drink?” he asked Christine.

She smiled up at him and nodded gratefully. Merrick disappeared to get the drinks, and more people enveloped them.

“Hello, may I ask what your name is?” Christine heard a familiar voice and froze. She turned and smiled at

Jane.

“It’s—” Christine tried to think of what to say.

She was panicking when Max arrived just in time.

“Miss Smith,” he supplied.

Merrick came back with three glasses in his hands.

He smiled at Christine and handed her a glass in which she guessed would be lemonade. He handed the other one to Mrs. Smith and the last one to Mr. Smith. They thanked him gratefully.

“Well, Miss Smith, I’ve never seen you before, but then how could I when most of the time I am in the country with my family?” Jane laughed.

“Indeed, my dear,” Mr. Wilson commented, coming around behind his daughter. He joined the group and moved toward the elderly gentleman. He put his hand out for Mr. Smith to take, and hesitantly Mr. Smith took it.

“Nice to meet you, sir, I am Mr. Wilson,” he greeted. “Your granddaughter, sir, she is very lovely,” Mr. Wilson said, nodding toward Christine, who blushed beautifully. Merrick laughed at Christine’s shyness.

“Yes, she is very lovely, and believe me when I say she is more than just lovely,” Merrick said, his eyes on Christine.

Christine saw him looking at her, his eyes shimmering with their secret love. Her heart fluttered at the way he was staring, and she tried not to think too much about how strongly he affected her.

“Miss Smith, where did you get that gown from? I must say, it is very pretty, and I believe not as childish as mine.” Jane laughed.

“Oh no, your gown is very fetching, not childish at all,” Christine commented.

“Really, do you think so?” the other girl asked.

“Yes, indeed,” Christine responded.

“My, what a cozy little group this is.” Mrs. Wilson joined in, fluttering her fan about her face.

“Oh, Mama, this is Miss Smith.” Jane introduced Christine to her mother enthusiastically.

“Miss Smith, is your brother the earl’s ward?” Mrs. Wilson asked.

Christine bit her lip. She didn’t know what to say.

“Yes, Chris is Miss Smith’s younger brother,” Merrick put in.

“Over here, come, you must meet the new guests,” Mr. Wilson called out to Lord Queensbury from the other side of the room.

“My lord,” Christine said to Merrick. “I have something to tell you. It’s very important.”

“It’ll have to wait,” Merrick responded.

“But, Merrick, this is very important, and I think you should know right now,” Christine whispered persistently.

“Now, my sweet, behave yourself. It’ll have to wait,” he whispered back firmly, seeing Lord Queensbury approaching them.

“Ha, brother, come.” Mr. Wilson waved his hands toward his brother. “Let me introduce you. Now, this is Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and that beautiful young lady over there is their granddaughter,” Mr. Wilson said whilst nodding his head.

Lord Queensbury’s face paled. He thought he had just seen a ghost. The Smiths stared at him in horror.

“And this is Lord Richard Queensbury,” Mr. Wilson completed his introductions.

Lord Queensbury was at a loss for words, and he turned toward Christine. He said, “Sophia!”

Christine smiled at the earl. She wondered why he

was looking at her in such a way and calling her mother’s name. He was looking very happy and sad at the same time.

“She is not Sophia! She is Christine!” Mrs. Smith cried in anguish.

Christine came to the old woman’s side and put her arm around her shoulders. “Grandmamma?”

“She is not Sophia!” Mrs. Smith cried again, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Sophia is gone,” she cried and hugged Christine.

Merrick bent down to murmur in Christine’s ear.

He was very concerned about Mrs. Smith’s condition.

“Perhaps it would be better for her to lie down,” he suggested.

Christine nodded and urged her grandmamma to move away from the group. They managed to get the woman out of the ballroom and into the hallway. Betty and Jane came rushing along to aid them.

“Take her upstairs to the spare guest room,” Merrick told them. The two maids nodded, and they helped each other see the old woman to her room.

“Merrick, she has never been like this before,” Christine told him.

“I know, love. The situation will soon resolve itself,” he said. “Come, it is almost time.” He took her hand, and they both went back into the ballroom.

“Time for what, Merrick?” she asked.

“Have you forgotten, my love, the announcement of our engagement?”

Christine widened her eyes. So he did want to marry her after all. It wasn’t a lie. Her heart brimmed with happiness.

Once they were back with the group, Merrick offered an apology for Mrs. Smith’s fragile condition.

Anne approached Merrick, for she knew it was almost time for the announcement.

“Well, Merrick, ’tis time, I think,” Allan said.

“Yes, Merrick. Time to present your trophy,” Max said, laughing.

Merrick nodded and signaled to Ross. The butler in turn signaled to various footmen. The footmen began to hand out glasses of champagne to every guest in the ballroom. Everybody seemed to know what to expect, for they looked at each other and then toward Merrick.

“Ladies and gentlemen, his lordship the Earl of Huntingdon wishes to make a very special announcement,” Ross proudly stated. “Would you please all raise your glasses and toast his lordship.”

Glasses were raised at that moment in preparation for the great announcement.

Anne felt her heart booming thunderously in her chest. She knew that the time had finally arrived.

Christine gripped her glass of lemonade; she was very nervous.

Jane smiled and hoped that the earl would not make a mistake, that he would not ask Anne.

Lady Queensbury gripped her wineglass, her eyes intense, her nerves tightening as she waited in anticipation.

Maria glared into nothingness. She felt as though she was a loser in this game. Was her endeavor to be in vain? Her beloved Merrick was to make his important announcement to all about his future bride. And she was sure it was going to be this beautiful chit name Christine Smith. She breathed deeply and bravely, accepting her loss.

Max was half smiling, waiting to see the women’s reactions. He knew what Merrick was going to announce.

He was going to present his great prize to the world. His prize was this woman, his soon-to-be countess who had

captured his heart and would nurture it. Max knew he would never find another woman like Christine. He knew she was the only woman in this world who would give her man such love so openly.

“Thank you so much for the pleasure of your company this evening. I know it is very late and the season is over, but still it is my great pleasure to make an announcement. Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to make an announcement about my future, my future that I admit previously I had come to dread. Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to announce my—” The door crashed opened with a loud bang.

Merrick halted in midsentence at the horrendous noise. He turned toward the entrance, as did everyone else in the ballroom. The women gasped in surprise, some frowned, and others looked on with horrified expressions.

Mrs. Wilson gasped and then whimpered. For there at the door stood Robert, his clothing all in disarray, his blond hair wild and dirty with mud. His thin face looked hollow, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He stared straight at Merrick, his eyes sharp and intense as if he was planning murder. He strode toward the great earl.

Christine was scared. This man looked beyond angry, and he was capable of anything, she knew. She rushed to Merrick and placed her shaking hand on his arm.

Merrick looked down at her and smiled. She stared at him in fear.

“It’s all right, love.” His mouth formed the words, but there was no sound. She gripped his arm and nodded.

Robert halted right in front of Merrick, staring up at the taller man. They stared at each other for a long moment. The whole room was quiet, and not a sound was heard in the hollow silence.

Jacob rushed into the silent room, puffing with

exertion.

Robert turned from Merrick and walked to Anne.

He stood in front of her, staring at her for a long time.

“What did you do to her?” he gritted out between his teeth.

Anne paled, but she still managed to glare at Robert, her mouth twitching. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” she commented.

“What did you do to her, bitch? Where the hell is she?” Robert shouted at Anne, his face inches from hers.

“I said I don’t know what you are talking about,” Anne bit back coldly.

Robert was so frustrated he hastily brought his hand up, meaning to slap the girl. As his hand descended, Merrick caught it in time. He shoved Robert back. Robert threw a punch toward Merrick, trying to make the man release him.

“Robert, stop it. Stop it this instant,” Merrick commanded, trying to control the younger man.

Max rushed in, caught Robert by the shoulders, and pulled him away from Merrick. After struggling for a while, Robert tired and stopped. Max was holding on to his arms, preventing him from attacking anyone.

“I said what did you do to her, and where is she, you bitch,” Robert screamed at Anne as the guests whispered amongst themselves.

“Who?” Merrick asked.

“Claire, Claire. I want to know where Claire is,” he screamed.

“Claire is upstairs. She is fine, Robert,” Christine said from behind Merrick.

Robert turned from Merrick to stare at Christine.

He frowned at her. He stood there for a moment, and then hesitantly he pulled his arms free from Max’s grips and

rushed out of the ballroom.

“Where are you going?” Merrick shouted.

“To see Claire,” Robert shouted back.

Christine tugged at Merrick’s arm. “Merrick, you must stop him,” she whispered, so afraid that he might hurt Claire even more.

Merrick stared at her and nodded. He turned to Max. Max nodded that he understood what he should do. He was to take over as host while Merrick was gone.

Merrick and Christine ran out of the room and up the stairs after Robert.

“Robert, wait,” Merrick shouted. But Robert did not stop nor did he turn. He kept running toward the third floor. Once there, he looked about hastily, crashing every door open. When he came to the last door, he kicked it open and then froze. He walked in slowly, with a murderous expression on his face.

Merrick and Christine were not far behind. They saw him entering Claire’s room. Merrick rushed in and stopped. Christine came up after him, and she, too, stopped at the sight that greeted her. There they saw Claire in Robert’s arms, and she was crying.

“Hush, love, I’m here now. She won’t hurt you again,” he said, soothing her tangled hair. “Hush now, love,” Robert said.

Christine looked up at Merrick, and their eyes met.

She threw herself into his arms and laid her head against his chest. Merrick lowered his head and kissed her forehead.

They stood in that position for a long time, looking at the two people who uttered words of love to each other.

Finally, Claire went back to sleep.

“I would like to stay here with her, my lord,” Robert said numbly.

“It’s about time you tell me why you disappeared,” Merrick said, looking at the young man for a long time.

Robert looked at him, and then he lowered his gaze to Christine.

“And who are you, my dear?” he said to Christine.

She stiffened, staring up at Merrick.

“My fiancée,” Merrick said.

“Your what?” Robert burst out in shock.

“She is my fiancée,” Merrick said again.

“I see. I guess I missed a lot when I was gone, huh?”

He shook his head.

“Why did you disappear?” Merrick asked again.

“I disappeared… I disappeared.” He stared into the distance. “We were going to elope. We planned it, but when it was time, I waited for her and she never came. I waited there for a whole day, and she never came. I went looking for her. At first I thought she had changed her mind, but Claire, I thought, was not like that. She loves me, and I love her. I knew she would come. I began to have doubts, however. So I went looking for her, but I couldn’t find her. I realized then that something must indeed be very wrong. I knew then that something must have stopped her from acting out our plan. So tonight, I came to confront her, that woman, but of course she denies it all.

Poor Claire, she told me she was having our baby. She was so happy.” Robert took hold of Claire’s limp hand, brought it up to his lips, and he kissed it lightly.

“What are you planning to do with Claire?”

Merrick asked.

“What am I planning to do with her? We planned to elope and then get married, of course. But now that has changed. I’m still going to marry her though,” he said, looking down at the sleeping form beside him.

“I congratulate you then,” Merrick said.

“Thanks,” Robert responded.

Merrick took Christine’s hand, and they turned to go.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted toward you. I hated you because you seemed to have everything that I don’t, but wanted. Money, looks, and title,” Roberts uttered.

The two men stared at each other for a long time.

Then as they reached an understanding, they both nodded.

Merrick and Christine left.

TWENTYWENTY-THREE Merrick sat behind the desk in his study with a glass of brandy in his hand, staring into space. The last of the guests had just left about an hour ago, and it was now two in the morning.

All was now quiet in the Hall as the guests had retired; even Christine had decided to stay in her room because of her grandmother’s condition. He had ushered her to bed an hour before, and though she had tried to insist that he come with her, he could not for he had unfinished business to attend to.

The door opened, and Merrick saw Lord Queensbury entering the study. He nodded at the man and gestured for him to sit down. Lord Queensbury did and made himself comfortable.

“I’ve got some information,” Merrick said, watching the older man.

“You have? Well, that is good.” The earl nodded.

“What did you find?”

“My men found that the family you have been searching for is not yet dead,” Merrick began.

“Hmm, that much I know,” Queensbury said, staring at the desk but not seeing it.

“That much you know?” Merrick raised his eyebrows.

Queensbury looked at Merrick, nodding his head.

“Indeed, Huntingdon, that much I know, at least since this night.”

“Since this night?”

“Aye, they were here.” The earl sighed. “It was the Smiths. They are the family I was searching for,” he said.

“Hard to believe that you spent years searching for them, and in the end, they were right in front of your nose, eh?”

Merrick leaned toward the older man. “You hired my men to look for this family? Why? You’ve never told me why you wanted them found.”

The earl gazed into Merrick’s eyes, and then he slowly turned to stare out the window. “It was eighteen years ago,” he began. “I met her down at the stream. She was very beautiful. The first time I saw her, I wanted her, and I knew I loved her then. She was a sweet seventeenyear-old girl.” He turned back to Merrick. “Her hair was a golden brown, and her eyes were a bright violet color. I promised her marriage, and she became pregnant. I told my father, but he was against the whole idea. I wanted her to live with us in our country manor, but Father would have none of it. I was betrothed to Stacy.” The earl shook his head. “I told Sophia that I would come and get her, and we’d live in my London town house. I had already disassociated myself from my family by then, so in love with her I was. It was winter then, and I was on my way.”

His throat became tight with emotion. He couldn’t seem to go on. But he had to go on because the weight of this secret had been dragging him down for years, and it was finally too much to bear. He needed to get it out of his system.

“It was winter. I was on my way to get her and her family, but once I got there, there was nothing left. It was all gone. The manor was burnt down. There was nothing. I searched around the village; nobody had seen anything. I

kept searching, Huntingdon. I have kept searching to this day.” The earl turned to Merrick and stared at him. “You must wonder why I married Stacy, eh? Aye, my father forced Stacy upon me. She told my father that she was pregnant with my child. I assumed that was true. What is a man to do when he was drunk? Well, I did the honorable thing. I married her. He saw us through the marriage ceremony, and then a day afterward he died.” He finished his tale, his eyes brewing with tears.

“I’m sorry, Lord Queensbury,” Merrick began.

“It was a long time ago now, Huntingdon. I make no apology for it,” the older man commented.

“I’m sure we both are thinking along the same lines; perhaps tomorrow I should talk to the Smiths about this. Although the possibility that Christine is in fact your daughter remains strong in my mind,” Merrick commented.

“Do you really think that girl could be my daughter?” Lord Queensbury smiled.

“Indeed, you do not realize that she has the exact same hair and eye color as the woman you loved?”

“Aye, at first when I saw her dancing with you, I thought it was my Sophia dancing with your father, I… oh God!” The earl buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

Merrick came around to the earl and patted the older man’s shoulder. “It is getting late, Lord Queensbury.

It is best to get to sleep. We’ll deal with this in the morrow.”

The older man looked up at Merrick and nodded in agreement. “You are right, Huntingdon,” he said and left the room.

Merrick shut the door and walked toward the window. He smiled to himself and thought what a small

world this was. He was getting rather tired, and he missed Christine. He wanted to be with her. He walked toward the door, but it was opened before he could reach it. Allan came in. He looked alarmed.

“Merrick! ’Tis important. Lady Queensbury is missing. A groom told me he saw her being taken to one of the old barns not far from here.”

“What?” Merrick rushed forward, frowning.

“Merrick, we have to do something. Should I send for the redcoats?” Allan frowned, raking his hands through his blond hair in frustration.

“How long ago was this?”

“I’m not sure. It was about half an hour ago, I think. It wasn’t long. Perhaps they hadn’t gotten far yet.

We could still catch up with them, I’m sure.”

“Yes, let’s go now. With luck, they won’t get far.”

Merrick rushed out the door. Allan nodded and followed behind.

It was dark outside. The slight breeze brushed past them, cooling their hot skin. The two men saddled their horses and were off in an instant.

They had been riding hard for fifteen minutes when they saw the small barn. Bright candlelight spilled out through the windows.

Allan halted his horse and jumped down. Merrick did the same and tied his stallion to a tree.

“What do we do now?” Allan asked as he came toward his cousin.

“We go and see how many of them there are. With luck we might be able to take them down and save Lady Queensbury,” Merrick said and nodded.

Under cover of darkness, they started to creep toward the barn.

Merrick rushed forward, his mind concentrating on

the task ahead. The cool breezes rushed past him. Then he felt that something was not right. He hesitated, frowned, and then turned. He saw a dark figure swinging a large log toward his head. He felt a sharp pain rush through his head and neck. The pain was severe, and his head ached like hell.

He put his hand to his head and felt wetness. He tasted and knew it was blood—his own blood. And then the world darkened around him. He saw the half moon blurring, turning from one half moon, to two, to three, and then… he knew no more. *** Christine jerked the breeches up about her waist for the third time. They slipped again as she tried to button them.

Her hands were shaking, which was why she couldn’t seem to do up her breeches properly. She tried again, and thank God, it worked. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She was shaking all over. She needed to follow them and fast.

She had been looking out the window thinking about Claire and Robert when she saw two men ride out on horseback. She had no doubt that one of them was Merrick, for she knew his bearing well. He was hard to forget, for God’s sake. Once she got her coat on, she rushed out the door. She was midway across the room when she halted in horror. Her heart thumped in her chest. She was scared, scared of the woman standing in the doorway, the woman who was staring at her with anger, with hatred.

Anne stalked toward Christine. Once she was close enough, she grabbed a bunch of Christine’s curls and tried to rip them from her head. Christine’s body shook with fright. She tried to push the taller woman away, but it was no use for she was far too small. Anne tilted Christine’s face back and sneered down at her. Her eyes turned a dull blue.

“Whore, is that what you are? Whore, you dressed as a boy and seduced the earl, didn’t you? You whore!” She slapped Christine’s face, sending her crashing to the floor.

Anne reached down and grabbed Christine’s throat with one hand, and with her other hand she grabbed a bunch of Christine’s hair.

“Whore, you thought dressing as a boy would make you stand out from the rest of us, did you? How dare you?

He was mine, mine from the beginning. You slut, how could you!”

Christine shook her head. The pain was unbearable. “Please, Lady Anne, it wasn’t like that. Please, let me go,” Christine begged, trying to push Anne away.

“It wasn’t like what? Slut? Like what?” She sneered, her hand tightening around Christine’s throat.

Christine started to kick Anne in the legs. She couldn’t back down now. This woman had no right to abuse her. Lady or not, she would fight back. She had too much to live for. Merrick needed her. His life would not be happy without her.

She gathered every ounce of strength she possessed to fight back. She started to shake her head from side to side to loosen the grip on her throat. She held on to Anne’s wrists and used her legs to kick her.

Anne’s grasp on Christine’s throat loosened.

Christine moved her head up and bit Anne’s wrist.

Anne screamed and leapt back. She stared at her wrist, and then, full of anger, she turned to look at Christine.

“How dare you? I am a Lady. You’ll pay for this, you slut!” she screamed, her face red, her eyes a dark stormy blue. She stamped her feet and rushed toward Christine.

Christine ran, but she was caught and thrown back against the wall. Anne slapped her face again, twisting her

against the wall. Then she started ripping Christine’s shirt, staring at the white flesh exposed to her. It angered her to see the skin so smooth and beautiful. She grabbed Christine’s skin and started to pinch it. She did it repeatedly.

“No. Stop it, Lady Anne. Stop it!” Christine screamed. She tried to push the other girl away, but it didn’t seem to work.

“Whore, you deserve this. How dare you take him from me? How dare you, slut? He was mine. Mine!” Anne screamed. “I will kill you like I let him kill that slut Claire.

And I’ll stand and watch while he kills you,” she screamed and laughed. “I’ll let McLean kill you, you hear me? You whore!” Anne screamed.

The door crashed opened. Anne felt her body being pulled away by large, strong hands. She tightened her grip on Christine’s neck and arms.

“You whore!” she screamed as she scratched the sensitive skin.

Max forcefully pulled Anne away from Christine and thrust the struggling woman to one side.

“Anne, that is enough!” he shouted.

Anne did not listen. When he loosened his grip on her arms, she rushed forward again and pulled at Christine’s hair. She was consumed with hatred for this girl, the girl who had stolen her man.

“How dare he ask you to marry him in secret. How dare he?” she screamed in agony. Oh, God, the pain, it was

unbearable. He didn’t love her. He had asked this girl to marry him. Oh God! “Anne, that is enough!” Max shoved her away from Christine again.

Anne thrust herself forward, grabbing and hitting at Christine.

Lord Queensbury and the servants rushed through the door when they heard the screams.

“Anne!” Lord Queensbury shouted. Max managed to pull Anne away from Christine. Still she fought her way from his captivity and rushed at the other girl, wanting to kill her. Max was stronger, and he managed to hold on to her.

“Are you all right?” Mrs. Ross asked, soothing Christine’s arm.

“I should have stayed with you,” Betty cried as tears streamed down her face after seeing the black and blue on Christine’s face and body.

“Betty, we need to get her to bed right away,” Jane said.

Christine was dizzy. She looked about her, seeing the sturdy faces of her friends.

“Jacob, do come and carry Miss Smith to bed right now,” Mrs. Ross said.

Jacob was holding on to Anne, who was still struggling now and again, trying to get away. Max walked toward Christine and picked her up in his arms.

“Are you all right?” he asked with concern.

“No, Your Grace, I must go to Merrick. He is in danger. Please take me to him,” Christine cried.

“But you have just been beaten. You are very weak.

You can’t go anywhere,” Mrs. Ross protested.

“No, I must go to him. Your Grace, please take me.

I saw him ride out. Please, I know he is in danger,” she said, wriggling herself from Max’s arms.

“There is nothing wrong with the earl. Please, you must stay. You are tired,” Betty sniffed as she tried to control her tears, which seemed to keep pouring out.

“No, you all don’t understand. He is in danger.”

She hit Max on the shoulder to let her down. But he was

persistent, and instead he started to walk toward the bed.

“No. Do you hear me, Your Grace? You must listen to me,” she screamed at them in frustration.

“Wait, you must let Christine down!” Tyson shouted from the door. He ran into the room, panting and breathless. “You… must… let… her go,” he managed to say between taking huge gulps of air.

Everyone stared at the little boy whose face was flushed and eyes were bright. Max released Christine then, and she rushed toward her brother.

“Tyson, what is it?” she asked when she saw the alarm on his face.

“Christine, what happened to you?” He stared at the black and blue of her face.

“It’s nothing. Tell me what has happened. Why are you not in bed?” she asked.

“Well, I was. I was asleep, but then I usually get up.

You know that.” Tyson stared down at the floor, thinking of the nightmares that still haunted him at night. Christine hugged him hard. She knew what he was talking about. He was still having those nightmares about his boss beating him. She was sorry she hadn’t been there to comfort him.

“Yes, I know, dear,” she said.

“Well, when I got up, I went down to see if everyone was still around, and then, Christine, I saw Merrick and this other man. They rode out.”

“You saw them ride out. Why were they going out?” Christine was panicking now.

“I don’t know. I heard them say something about saving a lady. Christine…” Tyson started to cry, hiccupping.

“Hush now, love. It’s going to be all right.” She soothed him, patting his shoulder.

Peter, who was sitting near Lady Anne on the

settee, stared at his servant friends pampering the girl who was dressed in boys’ garments. Then he heard the little blond boy say something about the earl going to save a lady. His eyes lit up as the realization hit him hard. He rushed over to the boy.

“Lad, tell me where the earl was going and with whom,” he commanded.

Tyson turned from Christine to the dark-haired man who he had never seen before. He blinked twice.

“Peter, what are you on about?” Jacob asked.

“Lad, tell. ’Tis very important,” Peter said, ignoring his friend’s question.

Tyson’s lips quivered, tears rolled down his pale face. He turned back to Christine, ignoring the man.

“It’s all right, Tyson.” Christine hugged the boy to her, frowning at the newcomer.

“No, it’s not all right. I saw them killing Merrick, Christine. He is dying. I saw blood, too, Christine.” He was shaking all over now. Christine’s heart sank. She was feeling very dizzy and nauseous now.

“Are you sure?” she said weakly.

Peter gritted his teeth. Jacob frowned. Max’s eyes glinted coldly.

“Christine, I’m scared.”

“Hush now, love. Are you sure you saw somebody hurting the earl?” Mrs. Ross asked, taking the boy into her arms.

“Yes, I’m sure of it. I followed them on foot. I didn’t get far though. This man came along, and we followed them together. He is still there now. He told me to come back and tell everyone,” Tyson cried as he clung to Mrs. Ross.

“Tell us, where are they now?” Max asked the boy.

“At the barn. I don’t think it’s far,” Tyson sniffed.

“Tyson, who is this man who told you to come and tell us?” Max asked.

“Hmm, he said to say he is Mr. Sam. He said to hurry up ’cause they’ll kill Merrick. Christine, you have to help him,” Tyson cried.

“Don’t you worry, love, I will save him,” she promised.

TWENTYWENTY-FOUR The pain in his head was hammering away. His neck felt stiff and sore. He struggled to get his breath. Merrick slowly opened his eyes even though he regretted it because it hurt so much. Everything was a blur. He saw light from a single candle flickering in the shadowy room. He opened his eyes wider and tried to focus. He blinked twice more; then his vision started to clear. He looked around the room. It was filthy, and the smell was awful. He smelt death in this room. He shifted his position and found that he couldn’t move his hands. Then he realized that they were bound up tightly behind him. He could feel sweat running down the side of his face. He was very hot.

Merrick shifted his eyes about the room again. His gaze came to focus on the back of a woman. She was looking out the window into the darkness. She was wearing a black gown. Her blond hair was dressed fashionably. She turned to look at him then, smiling at him. Her eyes were a misty blue.

“I see that you have awakened, my lord,” she said, her voice hard and unemotional.

Merrick peered into the face of the woman now only a few inches from him.

“Indeed, Lady Queensbury. So you are behind all this?” he asked, shifting his position, trying to get

comfortable. Somehow, he must try to stall for time. He needed to get away and fast.

“No, it wasn’t all my idea. I refused even to think about it until this evening.” She took hold of his jaw with her gloved hand. “Until I saw you paying too much attention to that—that girl,” she sneered. “It’s always her. I thought I’d killed her a long time ago, but there she is, here and now, stealing what should be my daughter’s.”

“Enough talk!” a hard, masculine voice said from behind her. She stiffened and withdrew from Merrick. She walked toward the man and stared up at him.

“We should get this done quickly,” she said, caressing his cheek with her breath as she gazed up at him.

Then she moved to kiss him softly on the lips.

Merrick stared at the scene before him. He was disgusted. He would never have thought that it could be like this.

“So it was you all along, cousin?” Merrick snorted, staring at Allan.

“Ah, Merrick? Aye, it was I all along,” Allan said and came to sit in front of his cousin. “I must admit, Merrick, you are very hard to kill. Tell me, have you nine lives like a cat then? I must admit, killing your father wasn’t that hard.” He laughed.

“I should have known,” Merrick snorted again, shaking his head. At that moment, the door flew open.

“Sorry I’m late, my lady, gentlemen.” The redheaded man strode in, swinging his cane about him.

“McLean, I see you are in this group also,” Merrick commented with raised eyebrows.

“Indeed, my lord. ’Tis nice to see you again.” He bowed.

“What’s in it for you, I wonder?” Merrick asked, while his eyes searched for an exit.

“Well, for one thing, I’ll get those factories running with your money, of course.” He laughed, his fat face turning red.

“And you, Lady Queensbury. What’s in it for you?”

Merrick wanted to know. He was working his hands, trying to loosen the rope on his wrists.

She laughed. “My lord—but then you will be my lord no more. You do realize that, don’t you? My lord, my daughter should have married you. She would be a great countess. Then I would have stopped Allan from killing you. I hate him, did you know that? Though I used him for my own reason, but of course I hate him. Do you know why?” She sneered down at him.

Merrick stared hard at the woman before him.

“No? I shall tell you then. Because he was going to kill you, and I wouldn’t allow it. You made it so clear that you would ask for Anne’s hand. But as of last night, my lord, last night all that has changed. I see that we must get rid of you after all.” She smiled at him and walked off.

“This is all about my being an earl, isn’t it? You all wanted my money.” Merrick shook his head in disgust.

“Allan, tell me, cousin. The things I have given you aren’t enough for you? You need more? Is that why you want to get rid of me?” Merrick probed.

Allan took a deep breath and laughed. “That’s right, cousin. You know I wanted everything you had since the day I was old enough to understand. Money, Merrick. I love money and the power it has, but of course you know that.” He came toward him. “And you know what else?

Now that I’m going to kill you, you at least, my dear cousin, should know a few home truths.” Allan moved his head toward Merrick, his eyes glazed. “I killed your wife,” he said quietly. Then he threw his head back and barked with laughter.

Merrick gritted his teeth. He rushed at Allan. The action was so fast that Allan backed away. The rope they had tethered him with was short, and Merrick was pulled backward. Allan laughed even louder.

“Now calm down, cousin. No need to get too excited about this. Besides, I think I rather did you a favor anyway. See, cousin, Lady Angela was… what should I say?” Allan stared into Merrick’s eyes.

Merrick gritted his teeth, wanting to kill his cousin.

“Oh yes, she was a whore, you see. She did not love you, Merrick. She loved your money and what you could offer her and her father. But you, my cousin, were so in love with her that you were blind to everything else.”

“You lie!” Merrick shouted. Allan raised his brows questioningly and laughed again.

“No, Merrick, I do not lie. She was a whore. In fact, if you must know, she was my lover. She came to me every night when you were off trying to find Frederic.”

Allan laughed again. “She was great, Merrick, until the very last moment when she begged me not to kill her. But of course, I had to. Do you know why, cousin?” Allan sneered. “Because she was pregnant with another child of yours, Merrick, and I couldn’t possibly let that child live, now could I, if I was to get my inheritance?” he said angrily and walked back to his seat.

Merrick shook his head. “So Frederic’s kidnapping was all because of you, too?”

“Of course, cousin. Who else could mastermind that? After all, it took your great team that you created out of thin air just three months to find the boy. I planned to kill him on the spot, but then that would have been no fun for me. I needed to see you suffer, Merrick, like I suffered when your father neglected to send us money. I lived in the slums, Merrick. Do you know how terrible that was?” Allan

finished off, banging his palm on the table.

“You bastard!” Merrick thrust himself toward his cousin.

“Whoa, easy, cousin. You’ll get your turn soon enough.” Allan laughed with pure joy.

“It was you that day at the lake. You tried to shoot me, didn’t you?” Merrick’s anger heightened as he clenched his teeth for control.

“Indeed, my cousin, it was me, but how unfortunate it was that you managed to get away. And damn that day, too, when that horse of yours could have fallen on you and killed you, but of course, that was your other bit of luck.” Allan stared down into Merrick’s eyes.

They gazed at each other. Merrick’s eyes were full of anger and hatred, whereas Allan’s eyes were smiling.

“I could have easily killed you while you were very sick, too, Merrick, after that horse accident, but damn that ward of yours, fussing over you like a nanny. No one ever had the chance to get near you with him around.” He snorted, hating the little boy for messing up with their plans.

Merrick smiled at that. His Christine; she guarded him like a watchdog. God, he loved her. The thought of her love and care for him gave him strength. There was no way he was going to die today. Not now, not today, and not anytime soon. He had too much to live for.

“It frustrates you, does it not, cousin, to know that there are people who guard me well,” Merrick said.

“Aye, Merrick, guarded you too well. But not today, my lord, not today.” “’Tis enough talk already,” McLean complained.

“We must get this over and done with,” Lady Queensbury said, walking back and forth, feeling very agitated.

“Very well then, let’s get this done,” McLean said.

He drew a gun from his waistcoat and threw it to Allan.

“You do the honors, my boy. Your father would be proud of you.”

Allan caught the gun and turned it over in his hand. “Aye, he would be very proud of me.” He turned to Merrick and pointed the gun at his heart. “I’m sorry, Merrick, I need to be The Earl of Huntingdon and have all that goes with it.” He smiled as his finger started to pull the trigger.

Merrick stared hard at the gun pointing at his heart. He was sweating, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He was tense all over. He saw Allan’s finger slowly pulling the trigger backward. It moved slowly, bit by bit.

He stared at it, and then as quick as a tiger, he pounced on Allan.

The two men fell to the ground. Allan dropped the gun. It flew to the far side of the room. Both McLean and Lady Queensbury were surprised by the attack. They jerked backward and watched the two men fighting on the floor.

Lady Queensbury saw the gun. She rushed and grabbed it, clutching it in her hands.

The two men were still struggling on the floor.

Merrick tried to push Allan off him. He punched Allan in the face. Allan was thrown and landed on his back. Merrick threw himself on his cousin, and again they fought.

Lady Queensbury stared at the gun in her hands.

Determinedly, she pointed it in the direction of the two men. She tried to direct it at Merrick, but the two men kept changing positions. It was hard for her to focus on one spot. She shifted the gun from Merrick; then it was pointing at Allan the next second. When she moved to point it at Merrick again, it was Allan she was targeting at.

She was very frustrated.

McLean urged her to shoot Merrick. The shouting rang loudly in her ears. It was chaotic. Then she chanced a shot. She missed.

She stared at the two forms on the floor. Their position had changed, and Merrick was on the top. She realized then that Merrick was winning, and his back was an easy target for her. She pointed the gun at his back and then she pulled the trigger.

In that second, Allan gathered all his strength and bashed Merrick in the face, causing him to crash to the ground. Allan jumped up, and then he halted in midair.

He couldn’t utter a word. He felt the pain at his back.

Then he slowly turned and saw the gun pointing at him.

Lady Queensbury was holding it.

Lady Queensbury was in shock. Reality left her.

She was numb. All she could do at that moment was stare at Allan falling to the ground. There was blood everywhere.

She shook her head and rushed to him. Midway, she hit the table, and the candle fell. It hit the floor, and the little flame spread onto the hay and then up the wood of the table and walls.

“Allan, I didn’t mean to. It was an accident,” she cried.

Merrick got up from the floor and headed for the door. McLean caught him by the arm. Merrick reacted by smashing his fist into the man’s face. McLean responded by punching him back. They both fell to the floor, trading blows.

The door crashed opened. Christine stared about the room in horror. The flames were everywhere, burning as if eating the barn alive. She turned and saw Merrick fighting with McLean. She wanted to help. She searched about and found a thick plank of wood. She grabbed it and swung it at McLean’s shoulder. The man fell to the

ground.

“Merrick,” she called.

Merrick stared at Christine. What the hell was she doing here? The next second, he caught her in his arms and hugged her hard.

“Merrick, are you all right?” she cried.

Merrick frowned at the black and blue of her face.

He saw that her arms and chest were also black and blue.

His heart ached for her pain. “Who did this to you?” he asked.

“It is nothing, Merrick,” she said, so happy that she was in time, so happy that he was all right.

Lady Queensbury looked up from the limp body of Allan and stared at Christine in Merrick’s arms. She rushed forward and ripped the girl away from Merrick. She held one arm around Christine’s throat and with her other hand pointed the gun to her head.

“Your lover, Huntingdon, do you care for her?” she sneered. “You, bitch. I killed you eighteen years ago. How did you escape? How?” she shouted and tightened her gripped around Christine’s throat.

“Stop it, Lady Queensbury. She is not who you think she is,” Merrick gritted out, his gut tightening with fear.

“No, this is Sophia, the slut I killed eighteen years ago,” she screamed.

“No, Lady Queensbury, this is not Sophia. This is Christine, the daughter of Sophia.” Merrick slowly moved toward them, his hands outstretched.

“Sophia’s daughter? No, that night they all died in the fire, I am sure of it,” she cried, shaking her head.

“Lady Queensbury, it doesn’t have to be this way,” Merrick said. He could hear the flames roaring about his ears. The heat was getting higher.

At that moment, McLean regained his consciousness. He got up and stared at Merrick’s back.

“Merrick—” Christine managed to scream out the warning when she saw the fat man moving toward him.

Lady Queensbury smiled at the figure behind Merrick. She gripped Christine’s throat tighter so that she couldn’t talk. Christine was afraid. She wanted to do something. She wanted to tell Merrick that there was a man behind him.

In that instant, McLean grabbed Merrick from behind and hit him hard on the back of his head. Merrick fell to the ground. Christine screamed and tried to fight her way from Lady Queensbury’s grip but couldn’t get free.

Jacob rushed into the barn to help Merrick at that moment. Max rushed in and pounded on McLean with his large fist. McLean fell to the ground and tried to get up, but Peter went to him and placed his foot on the man’s chest, indicating that he should not make a move. Mr. Sam went for Lady Queensbury.

Lady Queensbury panicked when she saw that she was outnumbered. She tightened her grip on Christine and used her as a shield.

“You dare come near, I’ll shoot,” she screamed. Mr. Sam halted.

Merrick stared at Christine. He shouted at Mr. Sam, “Don’t do anything stupid. She will kill Christine.”

Lady Queensbury laughed. “Indeed, Huntingdon, I will.”

Max moved slowly up behind her. She did not see him, for she was too intent on watching Merrick. She suddenly realized it was the first time that she had ever seen him afraid. And that pleased her indeed.

“Lady Queensbury, the girl has nothing to do with this,” Merrick said as Max crept along the inflamed wall.

“Nothing to do with this? Wrong!” she screamed at him. “She has everything to do with this. You’ve asked her to marry you.”

“She still has nothing to do with this,” Merrick said.

“I don’t bloody care about that. I want to kill her like I killed her mother eighteen years ago. They will both die in the flames.” She laughed and turned her pale blue eyes to Christine. “Enjoy the fire, my dear,” she said.

Christine’s whole body shook in reaction. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Her lips quivered. Lady Queensbury started to pull the trigger.

Max leapt at her. The bullet flew past Christine’s head by an inch and hit the wall. Max struck Lady Queensbury on the shoulder and sent the gun flying in the air. It landed near Mr. Sam’s feet, and he picked it up hurriedly.

Merrick rushed to Christine and caught her in his arms.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his heart still beating furiously.

Christine closed her eyes. She thought she was never going to see him again. She managed to nod.

“No, no!” Lady Queensbury screamed where she lay. The raging fire roared, causing the burning ceiling to crash to the ground. She got up and threw herself at Mr. Sam. The gun flew from his hand. She grabbed for it and pointed it toward Merrick. She stared at him. The fire scorched her eyes. Smoke was everywhere, turning the atmosphere into gray and gold. Lady Queensbury took a deep breath and then pulled the trigger.

Merrick jerked backward. He was hit in the arm.

He fell to the ground.

Christine screamed. “Merrick, please don’t die.

Merrick!” she cried.

Lady Queensbury laughed, and she fired again.

Max threw himself on her, causing both of them to fall to the ground. She kicked him in the shin and pushed herself up.

McLean at that moment took the chance and swung his fist at Peter’s leg. The man slipped and fell on his back. McLean then pushed himself up.

Jacob rushed toward McLean and punched him in the stomach, sending the man to the ground again. A beam weakened by the fire fell down on him, knocking him unconscious. Jacob helped Mr. Sam up.

Blood seeped out of Merrick’s arm and dripped to the ground. Christine applied pressure to the wound with her hands.

“My lord, we must get out. The fire will burn the place down,” Jacob said and led them toward the door.

“You are not going anywhere,” Lady Queensbury screamed. She pointed the gun at them. Her main target was Merrick. She was about to fire when Max knocked her arm, and the gun flew from her.

“Quick, Your Grace, ’tis time to go,” Jacob shouted to Max. Jacob and Christine dragged the limp Merrick toward the door. Ash and fire flew about in the air. They couldn’t see an exit. The heat was becoming unbearable.

“Quick, this way.” Jacob led them to an opened door that was surrounded by fire. Only a small exit space was visible.

“Quick, Peter, we have to get out of here,” Mr. Sam shouted over the roaring of the fire. They rushed out of the burning barn. As they ran out, more beams and the ceiling crashed to the ground, engulfing the small barn.

They halted about ten yards away. Jacob laid

Merrick down on the ground.

Christine came to sit next to him. “Merrick, I was so scared,” she cried. He pulled her to him. He hugged her hard and thanked the Lord for their safe escape.

“This was one hell of a night!” Max sighed and then laughed. The timbre of his voice echoed into the night. He came to sit next to Merrick and slapped his friend’s shoulder. “Well, Merrick, since you have nine lives, I’m sure this small gunshot wound won’t kill you.”

“Damn it, Max. You knew, didn’t you?” Merrick muttered.

“What? About your cousin wanting you dead? I only had my suspicions, my friend. No solid facts until tonight,” he said seriously.

“Thanks for sticking by me,” Merrick said.

“Indeed, friend, I’m sure you would have done the same for me,” Max said.

Merrick nodded. Max turned to Christine and smiled. Merrick frowned, for his friend never smiled as though he really meant it to any female.

“Well, my dear, you certainly guard him well,” Max said, and Christine blushed.

They watched the flames eat away at the barn and the people inside. They might have saved them, but there was no time. They needed to save their own lives first. The night was dark and quiet now. The smoke from the fire flew up high and disappeared into the air.

EPILOGUE “So you two are engaged. I have been hoping for it for a long time, you know,” Mrs. Wilson said, smiling at her daughter.

Jane shrugged shyly and played with the diamond ring on her third finger.

“I’m so happy for you, Jane and Alex,” Amelia cried. She rushed around to hug Jane. “Now that I have a sister, my life will be so much easier, I’m sure. Isn’t that right, Mama?” She nodded her head toward her mother, and Mrs. Vander smiled back and nodded in agreement.

“Well, Alex, look after my daughter well, won’t you? When the time comes, of course,” Mr. Wilson said, coming around to shake the younger man’s hand.

Lord Queensbury smiled as he watched the two new couples. He was happy for them. He got up from his seat and walked to the window. Outside, he saw the golden brown, orange, red, and yellow leaves floating down from the trees. The wind swirled them about as it gusted around.

He narrowed his eyes when he saw a gig draw up in front of the Hall. He saw Dr. Liam and his young apprentice coming out of the vehicle.

“I see that the doctors have arrived,” he said.

“Oh, have they?” Mrs. Smith said, standing up from the settee. “Perhaps I shall attend as well, with these

things you never know; a lady present might help to ease her tension.”

“Can I come, too?” Tyson asked, jumping off the seat he was occupying.

“No, dear, you may not come. ’Tis not for children to see,” Mrs. Smith said and motioned for him to sit back down.

At the hallway, she saw Ross opening the door for the two doctors.

“Ah, Mrs. Smith, good morning to you,” Dr. Liam said as he entered the hall. Ross took the hat Dr. Liam handed to him.

“Good morning to you, too, Doctor, and you, too, Mr. Oliver.” Mrs. Smith nodded.

“Good morning,” the young doctor responded.

“I will show you the way. You go back to your other duties, Ross,” she said and led the two doctors toward the stairs.

The butler nodded and went into the kitchen.

As he came into the kitchen, he stared at the nine people sitting around the large table having tea. On one side of the table sat Mr. Sam, next was Mark, and Peter sat next to Emma and the cook. Andrew sat next to Betty, who was now sipping her tea.

“Those were the doctors, I presume?” Mrs. Ross questioned her husband.

He took a seat next to her and nodded. “Well, it is about time, I’d say. She was very against the whole idea,” she said.

“She is very stubborn sometimes,” Betty commented, though her tone showed no disapproval. In fact, she liked it that their countess was stubborn.

“As if you aren’t,” Andrew said, his arms circling Betty about the waist and pulling her to him. He couldn’t

wait until their wedding day to bed her. Betty frowned at this comment from him. Then her frown turned to surprise when she felt his hand creeping from her waist to her breast. She giggled.

“Oh, get a room, will you,” Emma groaned at them. Then she said, looking at the cook, “I think it’s going to be a girl.”

“How would you know that?” Mrs. Thompson asked.

“Well, I just know,” Emma said folding her arms.

“Really?” the cook folded her arms also.

“Really, Mrs. Thompson. You want to bet on that?” Emma asked, raising her brows.

“How much?” Mrs. Thompson narrowed her eyes.

“They are betting again,” Andrew commented lamely.

“What’s wrong with that?” Peter wondered aloud.

Mr. Sam chuckled and winked at Mrs. Ross, who smiled back at him. *** “It has been a long time. I must say, my granddaughter does not approve of you being called, but the earl seems so concerned. He feels he must get her examined,” Mrs. Smith was saying as she led the doctors up the grand stairs.

“Yes, I must say his lordship is perfectly correct to have these things checked. Very important, I’d say,” Dr. Liam said. “To be honest, Mrs. Smith, Dr. Oliver and I here have never seen your granddaughter before, although she is an older sister to young Master Chris,” the old man said, frowning as they walked along the first floor corridor toward the master bedroom.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You both will meet

her soon enough,” she said and opened the door. “Ah, do come in.” Both men followed her into the sitting room.

“No! Merrick, why? I don’t need to be examined.

I’m not a mule to be examined.”

They heard a feminine voice shouting. It was quite loud, though her honey-toned voice was still sweet. Dr. Liam knew she must be beautiful for the earl to have married her in such haste.

“No, my love, you needed to be examined. These things are very important,” they heard a masculine voice say calmly.

“Well, I must say, her ladyship does not agree with this idea of herself being examined. But the earl insisted, if you must know,” Mrs. Smith told them nervously. She didn’t like to hear them arguing while the doctors were here. “Do come in,” she said and knocked at the door.

Instantly, it was flung open. Merrick stood there, his huge frame blocking the doorway. He was smiling at them.

“Good morning, doctors. Do come in.” He ushered them inside. They all filed in, and Merrick shut the door behind them.

“Now, Christine, do cooperate. The doctors are here,” he calmly told his wife, his eyes laughing.

Christine turned then, her hands folded across her chest. Her eyes brightened when she saw Dr. Liam and Mr. Oliver standing near the doorway. Her heart lightened a bit, though she still dreaded what the doctor was going to do to her. She never liked people looking at her because it made her feel nervous and uncomfortable. And examining her was definitely looking at her. Her cheeks blushed a becoming pink when she saw both doctors just stood there staring at her. They were definitely looking at her now.

Why? She wondered if they recognized her. That made her

feel even worse for she had deceived them too.

Dr. Liam frowned. Something nagged at his mind.

She was beautiful, this wife of the earl’s, but she seemed awfully a lot like Master Chris, as if they were one and the same person. He shook his head.

Mr. Oliver saw her smiling at him. She was beautiful, he thought. Her glorious brown curls fell almost to her waist.

Merrick frowned at the way the doctors were staring at his wife. He didn’t like it before, and he didn’t like it now. “Dr. Liam, perhaps you should get started,” he boomed out to get their attention.

Christine glared up at him. Really, he was being very inappropriate. “No, Merrick, I don’t want to be examined. I’m fine,” she said, coming to him and tucking her hand under his arm.

“My love, you needed to be examined; ’tis important for the continued good health of you and our heir,” he said and patted her hand.

“But, Merrick—” She stared up at him. “I’m shy. I don’t want to be examined,” she told him, her eyes pleading.

“You don’t need to be shy, love. I’m here. But perhaps we can make things better for you,” he said and stared at the young doctor. “Mr. Oliver and Mrs. Smith, perhaps both of you could leave. My wife is very shy, you see.”

“Well, Christine, what do you say?” Mrs. Smith asked. “It is, after all, important for the good health of you and your child.”

“You think it’s a good idea, Grandmamma?”

Christine asked.

“Indeed I think so, love,” Mrs. Smith responded, smiling at her granddaughter.

“All right then. I’ll have myself examined, but everyone must leave. You’ll stay with me, won’t you, Merrick?” she asked, her eye large and shining, looking up at him.

“Of course, love. I will be with you.” He smiled.

“Very well then, if that is what you want,” Mrs. Smith said and turned toward the door. “Well there, Mr. Oliver, it’s best we get going now.” She nodded and opened the door.

Mr. Oliver did not turn to see Mrs. Smith as he nodded but stared at Christine. He smiled at her, nodded, and left the room. He caught up with her down at the corridor.

“Mrs. Smith, wait,” he called to her. She turned and smiled at him as he came toward where she stood.

“Perhaps you would join us in the drawing room?” she asked him.

“That would be very nice,” he replied. They walked down the stairs, and then he said, “I must say, her ladyship looks a lot like Master Chris, as though they are one and the same.”

Mrs. Smith choked on her next breath. She cleared her throat and composed herself. “Oh well, after all, they are siblings,” she said and shrugged as though it was nothing of importance.

“I suppose you are right there,” Mr. Oliver said and nodded. They both reached the ground floor and went into the drawing room.

Half an hour later, both doctors left. Merrick came back to their bedroom after he had shown the doctors out.

He went to kneel on the floor beside his wife, who was lying on the bed.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it, love?” he said and kissed her hand.

“No, that wasn’t really that bad at all.” She smiled at him. He came up to sit beside her then, pulling her closer to him.

“I do love you,” he said as his hands slid down to her slightly swollen belly.

“And our baby, too?” she teased.

He laughed. “Of course our baby, too,” he said. He nuzzled the nape of her neck. “You smell nice, just like lavender,” he mumbled and ran his tongue over her sensitive skin. She giggled at the pure pleasure he was giving her.

“That’s because I used lavender soap.” She shifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. His mouth scorched her skin with his kisses.

“You are my guardian angel, you are my life, and you are my soul,” he moaned and caught her mouth. She opened her lips for him.

Yes, he was her lover, her protector, and he was her life and soul, too.

THE END *****

FALLING FOR SAKURA TRILOGY

One young woman.

Seven brothers.

When she falls in love with two, which brother will she choose?

In Japan, Sakura is the beautiful cherry blossom that blooms vibrantly in spring and symbolizes the insightful Buddhist phrase mono no aware, which means the pathos of things, a metaphor for the ephemeral nature of life. FALLING FOR SAKURA is the story of Caucasian-Japanese Sakura, her journey to finding herself, and her torn love for two very different brothers, Sebastian and Darcy Princeton.

Orphan Sakura, with no last name, is accustomed to being rejected, hated, bullied, and unloved. When she is

adopted by the wealthy Princeton family, her seven brothers refuse to accept her, and her two sisters constantly bully her. Instead of admitting defeat, she gladly takes on her new life with a brave face, working hard to earn her new siblings’ trust and love. Her endeavor, however, ultimately leads to a series of unfortunate incidents.

Now years later, the twenty-three-year-old beauty dreads the moment she once again has to meet the drop-dead gorgeous brothers, due to arrive for their cousin’s wedding. Dodging their very presence is next to impossible since the brothers, who have forgotten who she is entirely, are attracted to her like moths to a flame and thwart her escapes at every turn. This, of course, leads to ungodly, tempting situations, awakens forbidden feelings, and ignites old flames that have been suppressed and laid dormant for many years. When she finds them competing for her—NOT for her sisterly affection, which she still deeply craves, but for her love as a woman—she is torn between Sebastian Princeton, the brother who loves her and watches over her from a distance, and Darcy Princeton, the brother who was once her best friend and now secretly yearns for her forgiveness and her love once again.

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About Me My dear reader, This is Alexia, and I would like to thank you very much for purchasing this book. If you like The Earl’s Desire, then I encourage you to write a review. Better yet, rate this book and post your thoughts on Facebook and Twitter. This book is self-published, and I did my very best to polish the manuscript. However, if you do happen to come across grammar, punctuation, or spelling mistake please contact me via acpraks@gmail.com. I would ever be so grateful.

Here are some things about me. I live with my family in historic, students-infested Dunedin, Aotearoa (land of the long white cloud), aka New Zealand. My bad habits? I love eating, daydreaming, watching anime, and of course, writing and reading—in that particular order.

Visit me at www.alexiapraks.com for more information about my books.

FALLING FOR SAKURA TRILOGY Falling For Sakura (Falling For Sakura Book 1) A Secret Proposal (Falling For Sakura Book 2) A Secret Affair (Falling For Sakura Book 3)

MY OTHER BOOKS His Hired Girlfriend (Kiwi Bride Series Book 1) Highland Kiss (Kiwi Bride Series Book 2) The Duke’s Revenge (The Rogue Series Book 2)