Arabella smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Aunt. Will you make my apologies to the marquess and his wife? I do hope I haven't spoiled any of their plans."

"Not at all, dear. Why, I spoke to Devon just now, and she asked me to pa.s.s on her concern."

"That's very kind of her," Arabella murmured. "Would you mind closing the draperies just a bit on your way out? I confess, the light is quite glaring."

"Consider it done, my dear." At the window, Grace tugged at the drapes, glancing back. "It rained dreadfully last night. Did you hear it?"

"No, I'm afraid I didn't hear much of anything." Mercy, but wasn't that the truth?

"You'd never know, looking outside now." Her aunt was practically chirping. "It's gloriously warm and sunny." Grace stopped at the bedside and dropped a kiss on her brow. "I hope you feel better soon, dear." Suddenly Aunt Grace frowned. "Did Annie forget to pack your nightdress?"

Arabella glanced down, then froze. Not until then did she realize she was clad in her shift. Memories a.s.sailed her anew. Memories of lean, male hands skidding down the bare skin of her back* Justin's hands. She recalled the brisk efficiency with which he'd dispatched her gown. Which made perfect sense, of course - obviously he'd undressed many a woman in his lifetime.

But Aunt Grace was still waiting for a reply. "Oh, no, Aunt. It's just that*I fear I didn't feel up to bothering with it." She winced. What a lame excuse!

But Aunt Grace merely nodded and left. Alone, Arabella sank back into the covers, mortified beyond measure. This time she did drag the pillow over her head. She didn't know if she should laugh or cry. Justin had put her to bed. Justin. Would there ever come a day she didn't dread seeing him again?

She was patently convinced there would not.

She had no intention of lying in bed all day, though. Despite Aunt Grace's rea.s.surance otherwise, she considered it dreadfully rude, particularly in light of the fact that she was a guest in someone else's home. Yet, miraculously, before she knew it, she was dozing.

When she woke, it was early afternoon. Cautiously she lifted her head from the pillow. The throbbing in her head was gone, thank heaven. After eating the pastries Aunt Grace had left, she felt much better than she had earlier. Washing quickly, she brushed her hair and dressed in a blue-sprigged muslin gown.

The house seemed empty. Quizzing a pa.s.sing maid, she discovered most of the others were out riding. Tea, she was informed, was to be served outdoors near the rose gardens.

A bit of exploring was in order, Arabella decided quickly. The thought of negotiating all those steps again was tiresome, but if Aunt Grace saw her without a bonnet and gloves, she'd never hear the end of it. Retracing her steps, she retrieved a bonnet from her trunk, disdained the gloves, and ventured outside.

Aunt Grace was right. It was a lovely day, far warmer than it had been for quite some time. The grounds around Thurston Hall were lovelier still. She wandered at will, letting her steps take her where they would, up the side of a hill and down the other. The sun beat down. She hadn't expected it to be quite so hot. Trudging down the hillside, she came to a place where a small brook dashed madly through the trees before disappearing around the bend.

Hazy spears of sunlight twirled through the treetops, spinning a golden web all around. Arabella paused. Tiny beads of sweat collected on her forehead, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

Biting her lip, she cast a hasty glance around. She was quite some distance away from the house. There was no one about. Temptation beckoned - the lure was irresistible. With nary a second thought, she dragged her bonnet from her head and dropped it on the gra.s.s. Her slippers, stockings, and garters came next. Reaching down, she grabbed the hem of her skirt and tucked it into her bodice, baring her legs to just above her knees.

Without hesitation she waded into the stream. The water was cold, but deliciously so. She stopped, watching in almost riveted fascination as the water rushed around the middle of her calves. Ah, but she was supposed to be a proper young Society miss. No doubt it was decidedly improper to be traipsing through a stream in such a fashion*

The thought kindled another. A mischievous smile rimmed her lips. She recalled one of the summers she'd spent in Africa with Mama and Papa. She'd been perhaps fifteen or so at the time, and the heat had been unbearable. One night she'd crept from their hut to the sh.o.r.es of the river. And with no one to see, no one to care, she had shed her clothing*

And swam naked.

What would Society think if they knew that she, Arabella Templeton, the vicar's daughter, had splashed and swam naked to her heart's content*and that but the first of many times? Poor Aunt Grace, she was certain, would have been most scandalized. Why, Aunt Grace would be scandalized if she saw her now, baring her legs! Throwing back her head, she laughed aloud, a ringing, robust sound she couldn't withhold.

And it was then, at that precise moment, that she knew*

She wasn't alone.

It was Justin, of course. Of course, her mind echoed. Why, who else would it be? Oh, if she could only pretend she did not see him! Alas, he stood at the bank where she'd left her bonnet, shoes, and stockings. Her heart leaped. He was dressed informally - a loose white flowing shirt, tight buff breeches, and boots. She had to consciously slow the beat of her heart.

d.a.m.nation! He was smiling as his gaze traveled from her face to the slim curve of her exposed legs. Several things ran through her brain in that instant. Modesty commanded that she drop her skirts immediately and bolt. Yet if she did, they'd be instantly soaked. And once she returned to the house, which was inevitable unless she stayed out till after dark, how the devil was she to explain it?

And he knew it. Oh, yes, he was keenly aware of her predicament, for a maddening smile lurked about his mouth. He shook his head. "Ah, Arabella, I can almost reach out and catch hold of your thoughts, you know."

"Indeed," she retorted pertly. "And what am I thinking?"

"You're wondering if you should run. Or if you should drop your skirts and hide yourself from me."

"I fear, sir, that I can do neither."

His maddening smile widened further. "This is true."

Arabella's cheeks burned with the heat of a blush. "It occurs to me, sir, that you have a

most decided predilection of coming upon me at the most inconvenient of times."

Her prim tone made Justin want to laugh aloud. Lord, she was sweet!

"Odd that you should see it that way," he mused lightly. "I'd begun to fancy

myself your rescuer. Do I not always appear in your hour of need?"

"You?" She was clearly aghast.

He c.o.c.ked a brow. "A misconception, then?"

"Indeed! I do believe you've decided your sole purpose in life is to torment me."

"Now, why would you say that?" He allowed his gaze to slide slowly over her form.

Her mouth turned down. "Stop staring at me like that!"

"Like what?" She regarded him with eyes both pleading and distressed. She was right, he

decided vaguely. He was tormenting her. But*sweet Christ, he couldn't resist teasing her just a little.

"My dear Arabella, you cannot stay there forever. However, if you so choose, then I am compelled to inform you that I am ever so willing to continue to avail myself of a view that is most pleasing to the eye."

"Oh!" Her cheeks were flaming, almost the color of her hair.

He took pity on her. "Here, now. Come out before you catch your death."

He was right. She couldn't stay there forever. Her feet were beginning to go numb.

"Turn your back," she pleaded.

To her utter surprise, no argument was forthcoming. He turned to the side.

Biting her lip, Arabella began to wade toward him. But the rocks beneath her feet were slippery. Concentrating on her feet, she carefully made her way toward him, unaware that Justin had glanced back over his shoulder. Avid green eyes tracked her progress. She was almost there when she slipped precariously.

"Ohhh!" A cry escaped.

A long arm shot out, closing about her waist and swinging her high. The next thing she knew, there was dry ground beneath her feet.

A husky laugh rushed past her ear. "There, now - safe, sound, and nary a drop of water on your pretty gown. Aren't you glad I wasn't a gentleman after all?"

For the span of a heartbeat, her fingertips rested on the plane of his shirt. Her mind registered warmth. Hardness. A taut masculine strength that sent a tremor of reaction all through her.

She recovered herself quickly, drawing her hands away. "You are a rogue," she accused without heat. "But thank you anyway."

He swept her a gallant bow. "I remain, as ever, your most humble servant."

"Justin Sterling, humble?" She smiled. "Now, that I should like to see."

The rogue had clearly reappeared. "And that is the most enchanting smile I've yet to see this Season," he declared. "More enchanting yet since I believe it's the first you've ever directed at me."

Arabella wrinkled her nose at him. She moved to sit on the gra.s.s near her slippers and stockings. Her legs were still wet, she noticed absently. She'd have let the breeze dry them before donning her hose again. It struck her then*a lady never exposed her hands to a man unless she was eating. Yet here she was, without gloves, sitting here in her bare feet before Justin*and it was like she'd done so every day of her life.

She watched as he dropped down on the gra.s.s beside her. "How long were you watching me?" she murmured.

"Long enough to know I'd give a fortune if I knew what the devil you were thinking about prior to the moment you noticed me. I found your expressions most intriguing, Arabella. You reminded me of a sly little imp up to mischief."

Arabella couldn't help it. A betraying flush crept beneath her skin. She could feel it moving from her neck to her face.

"Ah, you're blushing," he said knowingly. "I daresay it was something shockingly untoward you were thinking of."

"I doubt there's anything that could shock you," she retorted promptly.

"Probably true." He leaned back on an arm. "We're much alike, you and I."

Arabella gasped. "We are not!"

He plucked a blade of gra.s.s and fingered it. A gleam in his eyes, he glanced at her.

"Aren't we?" he said almost lazily.

Arabella set her chin firmly. "I suppose you mean last night." She looked away.

"Now, see here. I'm not usually given to - to drink."

"If it's any consolation, you were no less argumentative than usual."

"Well, that's rea.s.suring," she snapped. "And pray do not laugh at

me."

"I wouldn't dream of it. But you have a wild side, Arabella. I've seen it. I sense it.

We are*kindred spirits, if you will."

She gritted her teeth. "We are not."

"You bristle. But I know you, dear girl. You were wading in the stream because no one was

about, because you figured no one would catch you." His eyes were alight. "I suppose it's lucky you stopped with your shoes and stockings. Indeed, if I had happened upon you swimming*naked*say, whatever would Society think of dear Arabella, the vicar's daughter*"

Her mouth opened and closed. It was as if he'd reached in and plucked her thoughts from inside her mind! Was he right? Was she as wild as he was convinced? She winced, reminded of all the sc.r.a.pes she'd been in as a child.

"Oh, my, I do believe I've done the impossible. You're speechless, Arabella. But tell me. Is it because I'm right? Or because I'm wrong?"

"I refuse to dignify that with a response," she said sternly.

"Be that as it may, I, at least, am honest. I am what I am. Every one of those things you once called me. A womanizer. A wastrel. A rogue."

"Be serious, Justin.""I am being serious."She regarded him levelly. "But if you know what you are, surely you can change what you are."

"Can I? Can you? Ah, Arabella, I think not." Unbidden, Justin thought of his

mother's faithlessness. Her infidelities. A bittersweet band of tightness crept around his heart, and darkness threatened. Deliberately he kept it at bay.

Arabella was shaking her head. "I think you're wrong, Justin."