"It wasn't that bad," Rosalyn demurred, her pride once again pulling her back.

"No," Covey agreed with the understanding Rosalyn valued in her. Her friend understood all too well. She didn't know how. Covey never asked questions, and yet she knew.

"Good night," Covey said softly and left the room.

Rosalyn returned to her chair and sat in deep thought until the candle almost burned itself out.

The next morning was cold and rainy. Rosalyn decided it was the perfect day to attack the attic. She had no idea what all was up there. Numerous trunks and miscellaneous small furniture items from different estates had been shipped to Maiden Hill over the decades and had been collecting dust. Her cousin George may not give a tinker's care, but she wasn't about to let something valuable to the family end up in Colonel Mandland's hands.

One trunk held moldy tack. Another contained baby clothes, folded away for the future. Rosalyn wondered who had stored those here. She ran her finger over the delicate stitching of one wee outfit, and a longing for what she did not have threatened to overwhelm her.

She shut the lid to the trunk and turned to another. There she discovered a pile of the most gaudy clothing. These must have been costumes. One dress was red, yellow, and blue stripes, with huge flounces on the shoulders and hem. She shook it out and held it up against herself. Which one of her relatives had enjoyed dressing the part of a tart? Certainly not Aunt Agatha.

The thought of the crusty old woman in such a tight, ridiculous outfit made Rosalyn laugh. The sound was rusty, even to her own ears.

A footfall on the attic steps warned her someone was coming. Rosalyn quickly wadded up the dress and stuffed it back in the trunk. Bridget's head popped up over the top of the steps a beat later. "Begging your pardon, my lady, but you have a visitor. It's Colonel Mandland." She whispered this last as if saying the name of a person of great importance.

So, at last, he had decided to come himself. Well, Rosalyn did not have time to spare. "I am not at home," she said firmly.

"But, my lady, I've already told him you are here."

"Then tell him I'm not."

"I can't do that," the maid protested. "My lady, after you are gone, he's to pay my wages. I had to tell him you were here." She turned and ran down the stairs before Rosalyn could object.

There was nothing else to do for it than to go and meet him. Rosalyn wasn't about to let him think she was hiding from him.

Going downstairs, she started to brush the cobwebs off her skirts and then stopped. What did she care what he thought of her? Let him see her at her worst. She didn't even stop by her room to change her dress-although she did take a moment to glance at herself in a wall mirror and repinned her hair to tame the errant curls that were the bane of her existence.

She hated her curls. Her mother's hair had been curly. Whenever her father's family saw her curls they usually made a disparaging remark about her mother, so she'd learned to keep them hidden.

Now, looking in the mirror, she told herself that if her looking like a washerwoman didn't set him back, nothing would. She went downstairs to the sitting room.

Colonel Mandland stood with his back to the door. He held his hat in his hand and appeared to be contemplating the empty hearth. In spite of the dampness of the day and a decided chill in the room, there was no fire. There was not enough money to burn too many fires, and they preferred the cheery coziness of the back morning room.

He must not have heard her come down the stairs, and so Rosalyn had a moment to study him. In truth, the room didn't feel cold at all. His presence was enough to heat it up. Unbidden, the image of the baby clothes in the trunk rose in her mind. She had an instinctive urge to flee, but she was too late. He turned as if he'd known she was there all along.

He was wearing his best, and Rosalyn couldn't help but admire what a fine figure of a man he was. His jacket of bottle green superfine was cut with the expertise of a good tailor. His boots did gleam, and he had recently shaved. The scent of his shaving soap lured her into the room.

Why hadn't she taken a moment to change her dress?

He spoke. "I imagine my calling is a bit of a surprise to you."

"I expected you at one time or the other. There are only so many people in the Valley who either can or will speak on your behalf."

The colonel laughed, not taking offense at her skepticism. "Actually, I came because I had some questions about the house and would appreciate a tour," he said, easily making her feel foolish... because she had expected another motive.

"I see," she said. "A tour."

"You don't mind, do you?"

"I will have Bridget show you around."

"But I would rather have you give me the tour," he answered. He took a step toward her.

Rosalyn resisted the urge to step back. What was it about this man that made her feel edgy and anxious whenever he grew too near? His storm blue eyes seemed to see too much, their intensity disturbing to her peace.

"I am actually busy at the moment," she said. "Bridget would be a much better guide."

"Why don't you like me?" he asked.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She feared he could hear and know how nervous she was. "I don't dislike you. I'm busy."

"Any other woman in your circumstances would be pathetically grateful for my offer.""I'm neither pathetic nor grateful.""I know. That's what I like about you. I understand pride. However, you have created a very difficult situation for me."

She crossed her arms protectively in front of her, uncertain where he was going with this. "I don't see how."

"Lady Rosalyn, because you have turned up your nose at my offer, I am considered a failure in the

Valley. You've made an impression on everyone. No one wants you to leave, and they believe it is up to me to see that you stay. Even my niece Emma is disappointed in my efforts so far. She is quite a fan of yours."

"Emma is a good, sweet child," Rosalyn answered and then couldn't resist adding, "but what effort haveyou made? All I've met are your friends and former tutors.""Would you have received me if I had come?" he asked.

"I didn't want to receive you today."He grinned. "I know." He traced the brim of his hat with his index finger before saying slyly, "I'm not asbad as you think I am."

"I don't have any thought about you one way or the other.""So it's my father's profession that has set you against me?"Rosalyn felt he was trying to trap her-and he had found her weakness. She was aware of the class differences between them-aware... and not so aware.

He moved closer, so close she could see the flecks of blue in his eyes. "We don't suit," she said, her voice faint.

"Mmmm," was his noncommittal answer. He inched nearer, and she was reminded of standing in Lord

Loftus's sitting room arguing, except this time, her knees felt a little weak, and there was a dizzy sort ofhumming in her ears."We don't," she reiterated, more for herself than him.

"Not at all," he agreed. His gaze dropped to her lips. He smiled. "Well, parts of us do."

Rosalyn licked suddenly dry lips. "Parts? Do what?" she asked. When he looked at her this way, it was hard to think.

"Suit," he reminded, his deep voice intimate. "Parts of us do suit. Lady Rosalyn, I learned a long time ago that lying to myself never served any purpose. I sense you hold the same belief. You may not like my lack of background or that my father was a simple cobbler. You may not even like me. But you can't deny there is something between us."

"I don't know what you are talking about," she whispered.

"Yes, you do."

Rosalyn could have ordered him out, could have informed him he was being rude or forward. That even though he hadn't touched her, he was taking liberties. But she knew such orders would fall on deaf ears.

Here was a man who made his own rules.

And she discovered it was a very attractive quality, one more potent than any other.

The next thing she knew, he leaned down and kissed her.

Chapter Five.

Kissing her was madness.

Colin swore to himself he didn't know why he was doing it-except that it seemed right and natural.

The fact she considered herself too good for him hit his pride and made him a little crazed, as did the fact

that he was attracted to her. In so many ways she was such a country mouse. Obstinate, fearful,

defiant... headstrong, intelligent, forthright... and a surprisingly good kisser.

Her lips melded against his. Her mouth was still closed, a sign she'd not been kissed often. He could understand. Right now, she looked a fright, all covered with dust and cobwebs. Yet something about her attracted him.

He had this overwhelming need to make mind-numbing love to her right on the floor, if need be. He pressed. She did not resist. He touched her lips with his tongue...

The spell broke. For both of them.

Colin opened his eyes and discovered hers were wide open, too.

They stared at each other, turned cross-eyed, and broke apart.

Lady Rosalyn practically ran to the other side of the room. He brought his hand up to his mouth and realized he could still taste her. Slowly he turned, anticipating some sort of spinsterish chastisement.

Instead, she stared at him, her razor-sharp gray green eyes wide in surprise. "Why did you do that?""Why did you let me?""I didn't 'let you,'" she responded. "You took."He had. He wouldn't mind taking again, just to see if his imagination played tricks. Pointing at her with his hat, he accused, "You didn't mind."

Her chin came up. "I was offended."

"Liar," he said without heat. He took a step forward. "Here, let me kiss you again and prove that you are

not as impervious to me as you wish to pretend."

"You stay right there," she said, moving to place the settee between them. "Don't touch me. Perhaps inother places women fall into your arms, but I won't.""Another challenge." He frowned. "How will you know what you will and won't do if we don't kiss again?"

She made an impatient sound. "This is not a game. But that is how you perceive it, isn't it? You've been

biding your time, sending one person after another to plead your case. You probably think this is some

jest. You believe I have no choice and you can force me to your will."

"Lady Rosalyn, I am no lothario. It is true that I sent others on my behalf. But be honest. If I'd come myself, you would have thrown me out."

"I still may," she responded coolly, and he found himself liking her. She knew how to give as good as she got. "Besides, that was not a very good kiss."

Her boast caught him up short. "It wasn't?"

She shook her head. "Inferior."

"You expected better?" he goaded.

"I've known better."He almost burst out laughing. "Now that is a lie," he said baldly. "In fact, I'd wager the deed to MaidenHill that you have never been truly, really, madly kissed in your life."

"Madly kissed?" She snorted her disdain, a soft feminine sound. "What nonsense. And of course I havebeen kissed.""No," he corrected, "you've been pecked."