Nevertheless, Eliza was determined to meet in private with the Beau. She had sent a note to him through Griggs the previous evening, suggesting the two of them ride out separately at five in the morning. They would then meet at Braddock's Folly near the lake to begin her lessons in seduction.

Eliza was disappointed when she reached their rendezvous to discover that she was ahead of the captain. She tied the reins up, so Mephistopheles could graze, and impatiently circled the exterior of the pentagon-shaped folly.

It turned out to be nothing more than a wooden gazebo framed in waist-high white lattice. However, the lattice was entwined with marvelously scented trailing pink roses. She bent over to sniff and surprised an early morning bee at work. She gave a startled laugh and backed up to give it room. It was then she noticed a great many bees were at work gathering pollen.

Enough dew had gathered on the toes of Julian's borrowed Hessians to ruin the shine. It was a good thing she had worn her London disguise. A riding skirt would have been soaked to the knees by now.

Bluebirds had made a nest in one section of the folly's diamond-shaped lattice and chattered at her to keep her distance. She was so distracted by their antics, she did not hear the Beau's arrival.

"I have not been up this early since I was a boy at Eton."

A smile lit Eliza's face even before she whirled to greet him. She saw Captain Wharton had left his Thoroughbred gelding to graze near Mephistopheles. "I am so glad you came."

She slipped on the wet grass at the first step and would have fallen flat on the seat of Julian's breeches, if the Beau had not caught her by the waist.

He grinned down at her. "How could I resist such an eager invitation? Where would you like to start?"

"You are the expert," Eliza replied breathlessly, aware of the lack of space between their bodies and his strong grip on a part of her that rarely felt the touch of male hands. "I am merely the willing pupil."

It did not feel as though her feet were on the ground, though she knew they were. Her horse snuffled as he grazed. The bluebirds sang melodiously. Her heart beat an uneven tattoo in her chest. She stared up at him, helpless to move, unable to speak.

His eyes were hooded, his nostrils flared, his blue eyes intent on her golden ones.

She shivered unaccountably.

"Are you sure you need lessons?" he asked in a husky voice, one brow arching. "What provoked you to shiver like that?"

"I am cold!"

He laughed, breaking the tension between them, and released her. "Of course, my dear, that is the excuse one uses. The first rule of seduction: A woman's shiver is a delectable invitation to a man."

"To do what?" Eliza asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Any number of things. You see, it arouses his protective instincts. Suppose you are cold. He can remove his jacket and place it on your shoulders to warm you."

He suited word to deed and a moment later Eliza found herself ensconced in the warmth of Captain Wharton's plum riding jacket. He was left wearing white shirtsleeves and a brocaded waistcoat slightly darker than his fawn breeches. The jacket bore the distinct scents of bayberry soap and horse and ... him.

"This gesture will leave the lady surrounded by the heat of the gentleman's body, and the gentleman wearing fewer clothes than before."

"I see," she murmured, running her fingertips along the edges of his velvet jacket. "Can every man be depended upon to respond in the same way?" she asked, trying to imagine Julian slipping his jacket, warm from his body, onto her shoulders.

"Not necessarily." He reached out to take his jacket from her. "May I?"

She shrugged out of it and handed it back to him. "Of course."

Instead of putting it back on, he threw it over the white lattice framework that framed the lower half of the folly. And set the bluebirds to chattering again.

"They have a nest close by," she said, crossing to carefully remove his coat. The chattering stopped. "See?" she said with a smile. "And there are bees at work in the flowers." She laid his jacket across one side of the wooden bannister that framed the three broad steps leading into the folly. "I will put it here, if you don't mind."

She eyed the white wrought-iron bench set within the folly, but sat herself on the topmost of the three steps instead, putting some needed distance between them. To her chagrin, he sat down right beside her.

"Now. Where were we?" he murmured in her ear.

"I was shivering," she said with a rueful twist of her lips. "And you were being protective."

"Ah, yes. Suppose you were not cold, but frightened. What better source of security than the nearest gentleman."

Her brow furrowed. "I must be missing something. What is it I am to do?"

"Seek refuge in my arms."

She blushed to the roots of her hair and tucked her hands beneath her knees. "I could not possibly."

"Come, come, Miss Sheringham," he said, rising and holding out his hand to her. "You need only take a step in my direction. I will do the rest."

She took a deep breath and let it out. "Very well." She rose and took a step toward him.

His right arm slid around her waist, the left around her back as he led her up into the folly with him. Her cheek naturally rested against his shoulder, and she could feel his warm breath on her face. The palm of his right hand slid down below her waist. In fact, he had a large handful of her trousers. His little finger might even be resting on the crevice between ...

"Oh, dear."

She could not seem to catch her breath. The growth of roses through the supports holding up the roof of the folly filled the space with a heady perfume that made fresh air scarce. That must be the problem.

"Do you feel safe now, Miss Sheringham?"

She had never been more frightened in her life. Her body anticipated what it would feel like if his hand moved any farther downward. If it slid into her trousers and touched her naked flesh.

She shivered again.

"Are you cold?" he asked, looking down at her. "Actually, you make a very fine furnace, Captain. I believe I am quite warm enough now. And feeling absolutely safe from ... whatever." She was prepared to wrench herself from his embrace, but such violence proved unnecessary. His hands released her without hesitation.

"Ah," he said.

Ah, what? she wondered, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Had that second shiver given her thoughts away? Did he know she had felt physically excited by his touch? Should she make another excuse for her reaction? Or should she leave well enough alone?

She knotted her fingers in front of her and met his knowing gaze as though nothing had happened. "So, if I am standing near Julian on the terrace and happen to shiver, I can expect a similar result?"

"I cannot think why not," he said. "If you are as attracted to him as you say you are."

"I love Julian," she said defensively.

"Then, by all means, be sure to shiver when he is looking, Miss Sheringham."

"I shall," she said. "What else would you suggest?"

He rubbed at his beard.

"You haven't shaved!" she exclaimed. The shadow on his face had not been apparent earlier, but had become visible in the growing light.

"No. Do you mind?" He lifted his chin and ran a hand under it and across the day's growth of beard on his cheeks. "It seemed a shame to make Griggs go to work so early."

"I suppose I did drag you out of bed at the crack of dawn."

"Were you there? I missed seeing you," he teased. "All I remember was Griggs growling at me to get up."

She flushed. "Of course I was not-"

"I wish you had been," he said in a silky voice, stalking closer, like a large, predatory animal.

She backed up until she ran into the lattice and then took a step forward again, because she did not wish to be stung by an irritated bee. She stared at the captain warily, unable to keep images of herself in a silky nightgown, slipping beneath the covers to seek the heat of his naked body, from running through her mind.

"Very good," he said, his gaze focused on hers. "Very good, indeed. I am sure you do not need lessons, Miss Sheringham. You seem to anticipate what I would ask you to do."

"What?" she said, blinking as though she had just awakened from a trance.

He slipped her arm casually onto his and led her down out of the folly. "Lesson two in seduction: Innuendo. And knowing glances. The gentleman will provide the innuendo. You need only respond with a look that promises everything but, naturally, delivers nothing."

"Is that what I did?"

"I believe so. Were you not imagining us together, Miss Sheringham?"

She pulled herself free and planted herself in front of him, booted feet spread wide, fists on hips. "I ... You ... We ... Fiddlesticks!" She could feel the heat on her face. At least she would not be shivering again anytime soon. "Will Julian be able to read my mind as easily as you seem to do?"

"I am sure if you look at Julian as you looked at me, he will receive the invitation as clearly as I did."

"What invitation?"

"To bed you, of course."

She marched across the grass toward Mephistopheles. "You go too far, Captain."

He shrugged. "I am merely offering you the benefit of my experience, Miss Sheringham. Quitting so soon?"

Eliza halted in her tracks. She had come to learn how to seduce Julian. It was be a shame to leave without finding out everything she could. She turned to face the Beau, careful not to slip on the wet grass and give him another excuse to touch her. "I want to know everything you can teach me."

He raised a questioning brow.

"Everything," she repeated.

"Very well, lesson number three: Proximity, proximity, proximity."

He took several steps toward her.

She held out her hand, palm open, to stop him from coming any closer. "I do not need a demonstration, Captain Wharton. I believe I understand the concept."

"Very well. Show me how it works," he challenged, walking forward until her palm rested flat against his chest.

She swallowed hard. "You are suggesting I stand close to Julian."

He nodded.

"Closer than arm's width."

He nodded again.

She let her hand drop and took two steps toward him. Less than a foot of space remained between them. "This threatens propriety, Captain," she said in a quiet voice.

"To the devil with propriety, Miss Sheringham. Remember you are bent on seduction."

She raised uncertain eyes to his. "Anything closer would suggest an intimacy that does not yet exist between myself and Julian."

"Come closer, Miss Sheringham," he murmured.

She took another step and stared up at him. Now she could see the spray of darker blue around his pupils that gave such vivid color to his eyes. He remained perfectly still as she reached up to satisfy her curiosity by touching the night's growth of whiskers on his face.

She gave a surprised laugh. "It feels so rough!"

He grasped her wrist. "You are an apt pupil, Miss Sheringham. I believe that is quite close enough."

A teasing glint lit her eyes, and a mischievous smile curved her lips. "This is a great deal more fun than I had imagined, Captain."

She inched closer and gasped as the tips of her breasts grazed his chest. A frisson of excitement danced down her spine. She felt the danger, but was not ready to stop.

She watched her hands, of their own accord, slowly unbutton his waistcoat and slide beneath it to discover the hard muscle of his chest and rib cage, and the heavy beat of his heart beneath the thin lawn shirt.

She met his feral gaze and saw she was no longer facing Captain Wharton, Julian's friend, but the merciless rakehell who had seduced dozens of women without a single look back.

His hand slowly curled around her nape and drew her face toward his. His mouth captured her lips in a kiss that was as brutal as it was passionate. He bound her tight against him from chest to thighs.

She was not prepared for the kiss, for the depth of his passion, for the feel of his hard, aroused body as he spread his legs and angled her between them. She kept her teeth gritted tight against his probing tongue, but the hand at her nape held her fast, until he had what he wanted-her mouth, open to him. The sensations he aroused were both exhilarating and terrifying.

He released her at last, his eyes glittering with raw sexual need. Her heart thundered with fear, her whole body trembled, yet she stared at him defiantly, daring him to force himself on her again.

"You are no gentleman!"

"Lesson number four, Miss Sheringham," he said in a silky voice. "Never, never underestimate your adversary."

"Adversary! We are not at war, Captain Wharton."

"Oh, but we are. To capture a man's heart, you must break through his defenses, and you must do so without losing the constant battle between the sexes. If you ever give in to the power of seduction, Miss Sheringham, you have lost ... everything."

"I am perfectly capable of protecting my virtue," she retorted.

"I doubt it. You are playing with fire, Miss Sheringham. Be careful you don't get burned."

"Are you through?" she demanded.

"I believe I am. Good luck with Julian, Miss Sheringham."