Chapter 8

Mid-May, 1845

The Kent fields and woodlands were painted in glorious shades of green, dotted with touches of pink, white, lilac and yellow. Wildflowers spread across lush, grassy meadows, their stems swaying like delicate, frothy-skirted ballet dancers in the warm breezes. Birdsong warbled through the air, sounds varied and sweet to the ear. England’s springtime was everything one could wish for.

The day was not yet as warm as promised at nine o’clock. Caroline rose and breakfasted as usual. Hal was in London. He had been there for the past few weeks. Since she was in charge at the manor while he was away, Caroline liked to put the routine business of the day behind her as soon as possible.

Crestwood’s steward, John Crowley, met with Caroline several times a week as did his wife and housekeeper, Anna. There were tenants’ needs to be addressed, errands to be run, and invitations to answer now that she was coming out of mourning. Done with their early morning meeting, Caroline found everything was complete and in good order.

Deciding it was much too pleasant to waste a beautiful day, she sent word for William to have Demon saddled and went to don her male riding clothes. Hal wasn’t around to disapprove, and she’d heard the duke was in London. All was clear. She left the manor for a long solo ride and a lazy picnic.

Caroline and Demon were enjoying their morning outing. How she loved the big horse. The stallion had been foaled the year her mother died. Her father, seeking to give his daughter something to fill the emptiness in her heart, promised the colt to her. William trained Demon up from a rank yearling while he lavished equestrian lessons on the young, female rider. By the time Demon was four and Caroline ten and four, a solid bond developed between the animal and rider that only another avid horse person could understand and appreciate.

As Caroline was turning the stallion onto a path that led back toward Crestwood, a devilish idea struck her. The sun was much hotter than it was earlier in the day, and she had developed a thirst along with her hunger. The brook that cut across Westhaven’s lands was a short distance away. It would be a cool spot to water Demon and quench her thirst. She knew it was always shady beneath the drooping willow branches—a perfect spot to relax while Demon grazed, and she ate her bread and cheese.

A half-forgotten promise she’d made to the duke, pledging she wouldn’t trespass on Westhaven property without permission pinched at her, until she erased the vow from her mind, deciding his silly rule was quite ridiculous. She’d ridden across Westhaven lands many times before, and James and Lorena never minded.

The day was hot and sultry, and Caroline was perspiring. Temptation was great. Wetness trickled down the valley between her breasts. The damp linen shirt clung to her shoulder blades. The thought of sloshing on some water to cool her cheeks and elsewhere was irresistible. Being stubborn, she forgot the duke’s command, set her jaw, turned away from the path, and headed for the meadow and the shady haven adjacent to the shallow stream.

* * * *

Today, since the weather was admirable, Antonio decided a canter across the countryside would do him a world of good. He might even drop by Crestwood Manor. Yes, that was an excellent idea. He could take the shortcut through the meadow. He’d make up an excuse to call on Caroline Lockler although the real reason was that he wanted to see her again.

He’d spent six weeks in London with Briella, Aunt Mari, and his grandmother. After her presentation to Queen Victoria, he had escorted his sister to numerous balls, musicales, routs, and other galas at which his grandmother thought they should make an appearance. His sister did not lack for admirers although Hal was most often in her company. The earl was in London for another week.

With her exotic coloring and extraordinary beauty, Antonio heard Briella touted as the ‘Dark Incomparable.’ Her lilting, Spanish accent, so like his, encouraged, not discouraged her acceptance, and he was glad for her. He noticed, too, several of his former classmates were under Briella’s spell. They cozened up to him so they might place higher in her estimation. Probably, it was his elevation to the title. Or perhaps, times had changed, Antonio realized. The younger members of the ton no longer held their foreign, Spanish/Catholic background against either him or his sister.

During the past several weeks Antonio and his aristocratic companions had managed to spend time in some of the best bawdyhouses and gaming hells in London, but two days ago, five hundred guests or more had jammed into what was deemed one of the most prestigious and extravagant affairs of the Season, and Antonio had hated every minute of it.

Excusing himself from London’s festivities for a time by asking Hal to take over escort duty, Antonio decided to check on the progress of the construction at Westhaven Hall. After inspecting the work with his Uncle Carlos, he was pleased. However, while on his way to Kent, Antonio had realized his sexual excursions into gratification in Town were less than satisfactory. His physical needs had been satisfied, but something was missing. Perhaps it was time for him to set up a permanent mistress. He considered the thought briefly then forgot about it.

* * * *

When Caroline reached the stream, she halted and dismounted. She slipped Demon’s bridle off and loosened the girth on the flat saddle to give him some ease. The horse made his way to the stream by himself and dipped his muzzle into the water. Swishing his mouth around, he snorted loudly. She grinned at his obvious enjoyment, thinking his drink must’ve tasted good.

Caroline plopped down onto the cool grass. Leaning against the trunk in the shade of the feathery branches of a willow, she munched on her lunch. Demon meandered a short distance away, browsing the thicker grass along the streambed. Caroline sighed. The water looked delightfully refreshing where it bubbled over a series of small boulders and eddied in calmer pools. She knew there were fish in the stream. James had often brought his young son, Joshua, there to angle. The sharp memory of Joshua, Lorena and James Thorndyke’s deaths filled Caroline again with sadness.

It also brought to mind James’s successor.

Six weeks had passed, but Caroline had no trouble recalling her last meeting with Antonio. Unconsciously, she had monitored the time he had been away. For reasons she'd rather not accept, she'd been plagued by a hollow spot inside her that ached to be filled by his presence.

How foolish can I be? I mean nothing to him. Why should I miss him, of all people?

She scolded herself, knowing she thought of him too often, reliving those moments in Hal’s study. He had been teasing her, she decided, nothing more. He’d mauled her with his eyes though, and with those sly innuendoes. So far, she was unable to formulate anything to bring him down a peg for his insolence, and with him in Town and her in Kent, it wasn’t likely they’d meet again soon.

Finished eating, Caroline knotted the remains of her bread and cheese in a scarf, depositing the cloth bundle beneath the tree’s swaying branches. She slipped off her boots and stockings and placed them next to her leftovers. Then she rolled her breeches up above her calves. It was a short walk to the inviting water of the stream. Dipping the toes of one foot in first, she laughed out loud. Finally, she waded out into the shallows, letting the water level rise to just below her kneecaps.

Undoing several buttons, she stooped and scooped up two handfuls of water, closing her eyes and splashing the icy liquid over her forehead and cheeks. The water drenched the front of her shirt. “Umm, this is wonderful,” she said with a sigh of satisfaction. She heard Demon nicker but she ignored him. Yanking shirttails out of her breeches, she dried her wet cheeks. She was pushing some errant locks out of her eyes when she looked up and saw him.

Oh my Lord! The Duke!

Caroline’s face mirrored her shock. She believed him in Town, chasing petticoats.

“Your Grace!” she stammered without thinking. “W-what are you doing here?”

Antonio stood a short distance from the water’s edge, toying with the reins of Challenger’s bridle. He was dressed casually in a shirt and tight buckskin breeches. He tapped a riding crop lazily against one leather booted calf.

“This is my property. Why shouldn’t I be here?”

Uh-oh, Caroline thought. He’s going to be difficult. I know it.

“The question, Senora, is what are you doing here? I was given no notice that you wished to use my stream for your…umm…daily bath.”

“What?” Taken aback, Caroline blinked up at him in dazed astonishment.

Then suddenly she realized how disheveled she looked. Her shirt was open halfway to her waist. Shirttails were hanging out of her breeches. Both shirt and abbreviated chemise were soaked through and clung to the skin of her chest.

“You-Your Grace!” she repeated, totally embarrassed. “Please!” she exclaimed, attempting to pull her shirt closed. With a nervous shake of her head, she tossed the sopping ends of hair sticking to her face and swung them over a shoulder. “Turn your back and have the decency to allow me to make myself presentable!”

Antonio smirked and made no move to comply. Instead, he continued to stare. His intense gaze roamed appreciatively over her exposed bosom and even lower to her thighs, bare calves, and back up again.

Horrified, Caroline looked down at herself after his sharp-eyed perusal. Her deep pink areolas, centered with proud nipples, had hardened from the chilly water and were easily apparent through the sodden shirt and chemise. There was no way she could escape his eyes other than to turn her back.

Which is exactly what she did.

She saw the light of mischief dancing in Antonio’s dark eyes when she glanced over her shoulder. His teeth gleamed between smiling lips as she watched him tether Challenger to a small bush. Caroline heard him chuckle, certain his wicked laugh spelled trouble.

Antonio returned to his original vantage point.

Caroline was even more discombobulated when she realized her behind now faced him with an excellent view when it was encased in the skintight breeches. She was sure he was appraising its size and rounded shape, too.

How can he be such an uncharitable beast, staring at me so wickedly?

Caroline cringed beneath his ungentlemanly perusal. A flush crept up from her bare chest like mercury in a thermometer, rising out of the open necked shirt. Heat flamed over her cheeks.

How long is the Spanish devil going to keep me trapped in this stream?

Antonio crossed his arms and waited stolidly, as if he had all the time in the world. “Well, Caro, you must either come out now—or come out later. It’s up to you. I have no pressing business, so I will await your decision.”

The impudent rogue! Is he really going to treat me so humiliatingly?

“Your Grace, if you please…”

Her voice trembled with impotence although the words were enunciated clearly—in a haughty tone—at least as haughty as her embarrassing predicament allowed. “You’re being despicable, you know. I assure you I won’t forgive your loathsome behavior.”

“You challenge me, my lady?”

She watched his expressive eyebrows inch skyward.

“You are here on my property uninvited. Isn’t it my prerogative to exact some sort of penalty or, even perhaps, some recompense from a trespasser?”

She watched him sidle closer to the edge of the water. No more than an arm’s length separated them. One tanned hand rested on his lean hip. His crop was tucked under the other armpit. His handsome face didn’t express a clue as to what he was thinking as he waited for Caroline’s reaction.

Flustered, hardly knowing what to say, she grasped at the first flimsy excuse that came to mind. “F-forgive me, Your Grace. I merely stopped to have a picnic.” The words were forced out of her lips between clenched teeth. “It was hot and I was very thirsty, so I…” An explanation slowly rolled into a murmured apology. “Well, then,” she said. “I suppose I should be sorry.” She griped inwardly, still flabbergasted after hearing the duke’s odious accusations.

The air sizzled with an uneasy silence. At last, Antonio relented, “I’ll make the punishment light.” He leaned over and stretched out a hand to assist her out of the stream.

She clutched her open shirt with one hand and gripped his fingers with the other. His ungloved hand was warm and firm. Slowly, he backed up as she struggled out of the water onto the slippery, muddy bank. Halting abruptly, she tried to disengage her hand, but he held on. He had dropped his crop and grabbed her other hand. Since both of her hands were now engaged, she couldn’t prevent him from pulling her tight against him. He released her hands to wrap iron hard forearms around her waist. She was trapped in his embrace. Body heat seeped from his larger male body to hers where they were glued together, chest to thighs.

Antonio released an audible sigh, then leaned back a little and looked down at her. “Do you have any idea how you intrigue me, Caro?”

And you devil me…and perturb me…almost as much as you fascinate me, Antonio. The surprising admission flashed across her mind.

“Muchacha, you’re nothing like the women I’ve known. You tantalize me and challenge me with a secret allure to which I’m quite unused. You exhibited those same charming contradictions at your supper party. You’re a puzzle, Senora Lockler. One I mean to solve.”

“Your Grace, just unhand me,” she pleaded, pushing hard against his chest, learning he was stronger than she thought.

“Don’t you realize the inappropriate attire you have on simply adds to your…umm…flamboyant beauty? Although it strikes me as being very unladylike, besides improper, it is dangerously imprudent to fire a man’s lust in such a manner.” Antonio smirked. “It’s very naughty of you,” he said, his coal black eyes blazing down at her. “And since when does Hal allow you to traipse across the countryside unaccompanied?”

Caroline felt her apprehension growing.

“I must say, you look quite different from when we last met, Senora.” His grin widened. “I see more things that interest me since then.”

What does he mean?

“I recall one day not long ago that I told you we’d be close friends. Do you remember?”

Taunting Caroline more gently now, his voice sent a shimmer of excitement darting through her. She filled her lungs with a deep breath and felt her breasts push against him. She couldn’t begin to form words to answer him because her heart was racing. Confusion had her weak and trembling. Her reaction to being in his arms was slipping out of her control.

Antonio breathed out, and she felt it on her temple. His chocolate-colored eyes, hot with admiration, melted her reserve. He nuzzled her hair then his gaze roved over her forehead, her eyes, her nose, the skin of her flushed cheeks and lower, to her mole and her lips.

Perdition! I must stop his seduction or…

“I have never encountered such a beautiful…intruder before.” He paused, his words a husky whisper. “What penalty shall I exact from a trespasser, hmm? Do you have any suggestions that might be appropriate?”

“I…no, of course not, Your Grace, but I-I’ve already said that I’m sorry…” She struggled to reply, but he cut her short.

“Sorry does not answer the offense as I see it. I need to devise some better form of punishment if you can’t.”

She tried to force her body away from his encircling strength to no avail. She felt his muscles flex and hold. So far, he’d only embraced her, taunted, and embarrassed her. Her only salvation might be to kick him hard in the shins.

Humph! Kicking him on his high leather boots wouldn’t make a dent in his composure and might break a toe or two of mine. I’d still be trapped where I am.

“Let me go, Your Grace,” she repeated. “I’ve asked you to do so more than once. You’ve no right to handle me in this manner,” she went on, trying a more conciliatory tone.

“I have every right, Caroline,” he replied. “I captured an unlawful trespasser.” His sudden curt tone silenced her. “I see by the black horse you rode here that this isn’t the first time you’ve infringed upon Weston property without good reason.”

Untrue, she thought, unwilling to test his argument with denials. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“The fact that you were not truthful is not in your favor. I believe you need a more severe lesson.”

It was only a tiny fib, she groaned inwardly. What kind of monster are you? How can you be so confoundedly rotten and unreasonable?

“Your Grace, if you’ll just allow me explain…” she began again.

“Tonio,” he corrected, sharply.

His gaze still pinned hers. Flip flops circled in Caroline’s chest. Worse was the realization that her thighs were pressed against his from knees to groin. Heat melded their bodies like leaves in a book. Her legs suddenly felt uncommonly weak, the way they had in Hal’s study. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his. That unblinking stare of his was so intense she thought to experience additional rigorous palpitations.

Oh, please my heart. Calm down before I swoon!

“You are to call me Tonio when we’re alone. Don’t you remember?”

Perhaps doing as he wished would help her cause, and he’d give up badgering her. “Well then…yes, Tonio.” She hated conceding to his wishes, but she sputtered out the pet name he demanded.

He bent his head toward her, the timbre of his voice taking on a velvet murmur. “I’ll take my payment now.”

So saying, his mouth descended. He licked gently at the tiny mole above the corner of her mouth. His warm tongue was a gentle, wet caress. He said, “Ah, first a taste, then…”

Caroline flinched away, but his lips followed, holding her close, lingering to nibble the corner of her mouth. Despite her resolve, Caroline’s eyelids drooped; her lashes fluttered like a gossamer breeze against her cheeks. She quieted and waited.

Antonio rubbed his warm lips once or twice across the width of her mouth then covered hers with a passionate kiss. He persisted, his tongue teasing her, until finally she complied, and he plunged inside, exploring behind her teeth with the expertise of a demanding and well educated lover.

Caroline thought she heard someone say something unintelligible.

Perdition! Was that him…or me?

Slowly, without her volition, her hands rose to his shoulders and circled his neck. She knew she should protest, fight him harder. But she didn’t have the conscious power to resist. Her fingers played with the crisp hair on his nape.

I never knew I’d feel this way. Being embraced by him feels so right, so wonderful. Why have I been so tormented by my wanton attraction to him? I never really forgot him.

Then niggling thoughts intruded to warn Caroline that this brief taste of romance was simply brought on by lust—not true love. His kiss was nothing but an unexpected caress that exploded out of the blue—one that would never flame into a bonfire—or last for an eternity.

Ages ago when she fantasized about him, she knew it was foolish and unwise to pine or paste her youthful imaginings on him. He never saw her as anything but a silly schoolgirl, never looked at her with romantic interest. Well, at least not until lately, because he was here, and she was in his arms…and it was because of her fantasies that she didn’t stop him now.

Antonio dragged his lips from Caroline’s mouth, along her cheek, spreading light, feathery kisses over her closed eyelids and back down the other cheek to her beauty mark. “You taste like fine Spanish wine, muchacha. And just as intoxicating. Sweet nectar, pressed from our ripest grapes. You have captivated me, Caro. I feel drunk from the tiny taste of your lips, your luscious mouth…”

When he lavished those love words into her ear, she almost believed she meant something special to him.

Antonio bent to her a second time, and his tongue slipped into her mouth again, dancing with hers in a series of erotic movements that made her gasp, first with wonder and then with burgeoning desire. He raised his head and looked at her in surprise. “Why do you jump away from me when I do that? I only wish to sip some more potent wine from your succulent mouth. Haven’t you been kissed many times?”

Caroline shook her head. “No, no…”

She buried her face against his shoulder. “I…no, never like this,” she whispered.

“Ah, what a pity, Caro. Never mind. You like it when I kiss you, don’t you?”

She must have agreed. There wasn’t a murmur of sound from her, but her forehead moved up and down against his chest when she nodded. “I’m glad you told me, querida, for now I can continue.” He smiled and tilted her chin upward with a tanned knuckle and proceeded to deal out penalties one by one, devouring her mouth, feeding on her sweetness.

“I’ll punish you with all the kisses you deserve,” Antonio promised, the words evenly spaced. “Si…with many kisses…as many as you wish…until you tell me to stop.”

* * * *

Antonio had the uncomfortable sense that Hal’s sister seemed amazingly untutored and too innocent for a widow.

But how could that be? She’s been married, not a virgin. Perhaps, her inexperience or reticence simply means that her husband never kissed her during intercourse. Some men never kiss their women at all. She’s a widow, therefore, she is fair game, his conscience told him. And remember you can forget her without betraying one bit of your family’s honor.

Antonio had a reputation for seducing widows and married women, but he rarely searched for deeper meanings during their trysts. He simply accepted unfettered pleasure when and where he found it. He learned early that sex was meant for gratification—his and hers. If both partners were amenable, there was no need for him to promise a lasting commitment. A few words of tenderness should be enough to satisfy a woman while making love to her. He’d come to these conclusions again just recently.

“I don’t find your kisses a punishment,” Caroline confessed when he continued to nibble at her lips with erotic love bites. She had allowed herself to drift into a foggy haze of sensation. Releasing one hand from around her waist, Antonio slowly slid it upward along her ribs and took the weight of one breast in his palm.

Caroline tensed immediately.

Squeezing gently, he coaxed, “I wish only to pleasure you, Caro. Let me.”

He went on caressing until he felt her relax. He ran tiny kisses down her neck then buried his lips in the hollow where it met her collarbone. His thumb finally sought its destination through the thin fabric of her chemise, rubbing a nipple until it plumped and hardened. He heard her soft whimper.

She hid her face against him and tightened her hold on his shoulders. The drooping willow where they’d stopped to make love formed a dimly lit, yellow-green canopy, like a conservatory surrounded by sun drenched vegetation, the perfect place for seduction. It seemed to Antonio that Caroline had forgotten feelings of guilt about her widowhood and, instead, craved more from him. She had not stopped him.

I’ll make sure she has everything she wants. She needn’t worry. Perhaps, I will even set her up in a small place in London…

Caroline inhaled the musky, animal scent that escaped from the duke’s golden skin, drew in the sharp tang of his lemony cologne, and recognized the slightly pungent odor of polished leather and cigar tobacco that clung to his clothes. Swept by a torrent of stormy emotions, she tumbled like a twig in the wild, rushing waters of the brook. Antonio’s kisses and caresses flowed over her—arousing her as never before in her wildest fantasies. However, without realizing it, she was in danger of being carried away. She wanted him to make love to her, but this was reality.

“Ah, muy linda, Caro.”

He was breathing her name as his lips glided lower. He nosed aside her open shirt and found her softness, the shadowy valley separating her breasts. Inhaling, he filled his nostrils with her womanly perfume. She gasped when his long fingers pushed the weight of one breast over the top edge of the damp chemise.

He knew he was losing control. Lust ignited into a raging inferno. He thought of nothing but being inside her, his cock long and hard, thrusting deep and often. Anxiously, he had waited to assuage his raging libido, and now that time had come.

“Tell me you want me, querida,” Antonio whispered, his hoarse voice dwindling to a soft command. He choked out his promise. “I’ll make it good for you, Caro, I promise.”

“Oh God, no! Stop!” she exclaimed, her agitation growing riper by the second. Shame and condemnation flamed higher. “What gave you the idea that I…oh, let me go, Your Gr…” She grunted out the words, pummeling his chest and shoulders with her closed fists, desperate to get away from him. “Stop it this minute!”

She was mortified, more than ashamed.

I’ve brought this on myself! How did I let it happen?

“You must cease this…this…seduction now!” she exhorted, continuing to struggle with him.

Caroline’s panic surprised Antonio.

What’s wrong with her? I’m simply making love to her! And I was damn certain she liked it.

“How could I have been so stupid?” she panted, ranting at him. “To-to believe you gave a tinker’s damn about my reputation or my feelings. I’m an afternoon’s diversion to you—you—ohh! Get away from me, you black-hearted Spaniard. I’ve heard the rumors. You’re nothing but a rake, a scoundrel, using your charms on any woman who will have you. A—a crass, presumptuous, licentious, son of-of a duke!”

With a prideful snort, Antonio finally released her.

Having exerted enough sharp language alongside her physical blandishments, she scuttled away, rising and swaying slightly on bare feet. She eluded Antonio when he reached for her a second time. Huffing with breathlessness, Caroline stumbled then stood straight with as much finesse as she could muster. Quickly, she rearranged her chemise with fumbling fingers and buttoned her shirt. Her cheeks blistered with indignation and embarrassed humiliation.

Antonio, too, straightened up to his full height. He wasn’t about to apologize for anything he had done. Perhaps, he had been a cad, but he wouldn’t chastise himself for his actions. She had wanted him, and he recognized it. The same way he had wanted her and was ready to comply. After all, Caroline Lockler was a needy widow, no longer getting what she wanted from her husband. Therefore, he behaved normally, like an unattached male on the loose.

Why then had she ranted at me like fishwife? Was it because I didn’t finish the job? He was beginning to wonder if that was the reason. Well, if I didn’t, it was her own fault!

Never mind, he told himself. There were willing women waiting to satisfy him in London. There’d be no sheepish apologies from his lips. He’d leave her strictly alone from here on, resist any amorous urges, put her out of his mind—and get on with his life.

Cursing silently, Antonio tried to ignore his rampant arousal, its visible bulge outlined against the confining leather of his breeches. Nevertheless, he took a hesitant step toward her. “Senora Lockler?”

Caroline reared backward as if bitten by a viper. Backing away further and further, she commanded, “Don’t you dare come near me!” Venom spat from her eyes and mouth. “From now on, you’re to address me as Lady Caroline Lockler. And you’d better remember it, you—you vile womanizer!” In a hurry to leave this place and him, she added somewhat frantically, “And don’t try to stop me!”

Still barefoot, Caroline quickly stooped, grabbed her boots and ran to where Demon was grazing. The black stallion raised his head and snuffled a greeting. She removed his bridle where it lay across the saddle with shaky fingers, slipped the bit into his mouth, and buckled the leather bridle over his muzzle and ears. Pulling on her boots with some difficulty, she hopped on his back, forded the shallow brook, and rode off at a flat out gallop, her long hair streaming behind her.

Nombre de Dios, the lady has a temper!

Antonio watched as Caroline raced across the width of the meadow. His brow cleared and his lips twitched into a half smile. He was forced to admire her. Though she hadn’t confessed, he knew with certitude that she and her horse were, indeed, the trespassers who had eluded him weeks before.

He took a moment to review their brief, tempestuous encounter. It was just as well that nothing untoward had happened between them. She was his friend’s sister. It would have been a major mistake on his part had he taken her and there were consequences. It meant immediate wedlock, and he wasn’t ready for that, not now, nor in the foreseeable future. Therefore, it was imperative that he stay away from Hal’s damnably intriguing sister. His escapades in London’s bawdyhouses weren’t satisfactory, but he knew he might as well forget any sexual pleasure with the young widow.

It was only because the unexpected opportunity had slapped him in the face that he had maneuvered Caroline Lockler into his arms. For six weeks, he had tried to forget her, but without success. Then by running into her accidentally, he had hoped to rid himself of his preoccupation with her. It hadn’t worked.

Antonio groaned. Unconsciously, he rubbed fingertips over his lips that recently delighted in Caroline’s softness and honeyed flavor. Planting his boots firmly on the ground, Antonio clung to an aristocratic rake’s crass concepts learned from others when attending university. His English father’s upbringing may have warred within him, but he, Antonio, was determined to ignore his conscience.

Widows are known to be available for seduction. It’s just a damn pity this one isn’t. And, no, dammit, I will not wear a leg shackle yet.

Antonio’s black eyes glowed with new resolve. He strolled toward where he’d tethered Challenger. Passing by, he spied a pair of stockings that Caroline had forgotten beneath the willow. Plucking them up, he let them slide through his fingers, remembering the long, lush contours they encased, the legs he thought would wrap around his hips when they made love. Cursing under his breath, he tucked the stockings into a pocket, mounted his stallion, and rode off in the direction of Westhaven Hall, waiting for his body to ease from its aroused state.