"Pecked?"

"Yes, pecked," he answered knowledgeably. "You know, a closed lip, dry mouth brush on the cheek.

The sort of thing a grandmother shares. Pecked."

Her nose scrunched in distaste in the most adorable manner, and he discovered for the first time she had a dimple. Only hers was not like those cheruby dimples indenting the side of rosy cheeks. No, her dimple was beneath the corner of her mouth, on the lower right side. An out-of-kilter dimple, completely unique and utterly her.

"I've been more than pecked," she informed him haughtily."I didn't find any evidence of the like."Her brows came together. "You smash your lips against mine without warning or request and then have the audacity to complain it wasn't a proper kiss? You don't deserve a kiss of any sort."

"Now wait a minute," Colin said, holding out his hands and thoroughly enjoying himself more than he hadin a very long time. "I wasn't complaining. You were."She shook her head. "I was not."He pressed his lips together, letting her know he wasn't going to argue. And her irritated response was exactly all he could have wished. She started for the door. "Our interview is at an end. Good day,

Colonel-"He hooked his hand in her arm and spun her around. Before she could protest, he kissed her, only thistime, he didn't hold back.

To his surprise, neither did she.

Her lips opened to him. Her body fit his.

He put the arm of his hand holding his hat around her waist. God, how long had it been since he'd had a

woman? Too long-and yet, this wasn't just lust. There was something more here. She tasted different than others, smelled different, more enticing, more appealing. Kissing her might not be enough.

And she was not indifferent to him. Oh, no, she was as hungry as he was...

She pushed herself out of his arms and, without missing a beat, slapped him so hard against the side of

the face that he dropped his hat.

Colin had been hit harder in pub fights during his misspent youth, but this was unexpected, and she almost knocked him over.

Her eyes were bright with indignation. Her chest heaved; her color was high. She looked magnificent.

"I may have deserved that," he admitted. He bent to pick up the hat.

"Yes, you did." Her fists were still clenched at her side.

"I'm not sorry I did it, though," he confessed. " 'Twas worth the price."

Her anger abated as quickly as it had flared, and in its place was confusion. She shook her head, as if

trying to clear her thinking.In a flash of insight, he said, "It's not the kiss that upset you, was it?"Lady Rosalyn took a step back. "I think you need to leave."He didn't. "I threaten you now more asking questions than I did kissing you.""I'm not threatened, Colonel Mandland, I'm annoyed. What I think and feel is none of your business.""It is now," he answered. He tapped his thigh with his hat. "I've decided to make it my business." He started backing out the door, knowing the time to leave had come. "You are a mystery, my lady... and a good kisser. I shall pay a call on the morrow."

"I won't be at home," she declared, her eyes sparkling with challenge."Yes, you will," he assured her, "and if you aren't, I'll wait for you." He turned and walked straight out ofthe house, pleased to have gotten in the last word.

Outside, Oscar had waded into Lady Rosalyn's flower beds again. So much for the trick of dropping the reins on the ground and expecting him to stand still. Colin mounted and started down the drive but then stopped. He looked back at Maiden Hill.

It was a proud house. Its mistress was proud, too. He understood pride. He knew it was often a way toprotect one's heart.Perhaps this marriage thing wasn't such a bad idea after all?He put heels to horse.

Rosalyn was furious.

How dare that arrogant military man walk into her house and manhandle her? And then pretend he knew her better than she did herself?

The worst part was that he was right. She was afraid. She hadn't realized how afraid until he'd kissed her the second time. For one glorious moment, she had wanted to let herself believe he could care.

Then she'd remembered. She'd recalled the times she had wanted to think others cared as deeply for her as she had for them. Her first hard lesson had been the one her mother had taught her. She had thought her mother loved her, until her mother had run off with another man. She had wanted her father to love her. Instead, he'd drunk himself to death over a broken heart. His daughter's love had meant nothing to him.

Following his death had been years of being trundled off from one relative to another. "What are we going to do with poor Rosalyn?" had been the watchword.

She'd wanted to believe those aunts and cousins could care for her. She'd been starved for love in her life... until she'd realized that no one loves an orphan.

And so Rosalyn had learned to make her own way-until today.

Colonel Mandland's kiss did threaten her because it made her realize how much was missing in her life.

In his kiss, she could taste the one dream she'd not allowed herself to have... the dream of children.

Rosalyn crossed her arms, suddenly cold with apprehension. "What is it about you that frightens me so?" she asked aloud.

"About whom?" Covey said from the door. She entered the room and then stopped to look around in bewilderment. "Why, my lady, you are alone. Are you starting to talk to yourself the way I talk to myself?"

"I was reasoning something out," Rosalyn answered.

"About Colonel Mandland? Bridget told me he was here."

"You knew he had come to call and didn't rescue me?" Rosalyn demanded. "Covey, what sort of friend are you?"

"One who hoped the two of you were getting along well," she answered. "He's not a bad man. He's brave and intelligent, handsome... What more could you want?"

Love.

The word jumped unbidden to Rosalyn's mind. He was right. Her refusal of his suit had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her own need. She wanted to be loved, and yet she feared and distrusted the passion behind desire.

There, she had admitted it. She wanted the one thing she didn't believe existed. The knowledge of how needy she was shattered her very notion of herself.

She had to think, to sort everything out. She was too vulnerable, and with vulnerability came pain. She knew that. She started walking out of the room.

"My dear, are you all right?" Covey asked, taking a step after her.

Rosalyn held up a hand to ward her off. "I'm fine. I need to finish the attic. I must go." At the door, she stopped. "Please, don't leave me alone with him. Not any more." She didn't wait for a response but practically ran for the stairs.

A few minutes later, in the loneliness of the attic, she stood in front of a dusty mirror propped against the wall and saw a stranger reflected there.

Slowly, she removed the pins from her hair. The curls she took such pains to hide sprang out in joyful abandon at finally being set free.

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked into her mother's face, the one she tried to hide. Her father had blamed his drinking on how much she resembled the woman who had betrayed his love. Her aunts and cousins had all remarked on how unfortunate it was she had her mother's overtly sensual looks. Her mother. The candler's daughter who had captured the heart of an earl, an earl foolish enough to marry her.

Of course, her father's relatives had not been surprised when the lovely Ariette had run away with someone as common as a riding instructor. Hadn't she been common herself?

"I'm not common," Rosalyn said to the reflection. "I'm not."

As she forced back her tears, her eyes burned. She repinned her hair tighter than ever and lifted her chin. "I am Rosalyn Wellborne, daughter of the earl of Woodford. I am not common."

And she almost believed it. But that night, she didn't sleep well. She dreamed of babies. Beautiful, round, laughing babies. They seemed to fall from the sky into her arms, and they all had storm blue eyes, dark hair, and slashing eyebrows.

They were all miniature Colonel Mandlands.

She woke, her heart pounding in her chest... and prayed she would never have another nightmare like that one.

So when he presented himself on her doorstep the very next morning, she was not happy.

Colin knew better than to wait until he was announced. He followed the maid into the sitting room, where Lady Rosalyn sat on the floor in front of a huge open trunk before the hearth. "I'm not receiving callers" were the first words out of her mouth, even before his name was announced. She didn't even bother to look up at him.

He waved Bridget out of the room saying, "Hello, how are you?"

Lady Rosalyn frowned her response. She was again dressed for a day of cleaning and work. He rather liked her industriousness. In the military, he had become accustomed to and admired ladies who could adapt to their surroundings. Lady Rosalyn would have made a good military wife, although she would have to do something about her clothes. She'd also have to stop pulling her hair back so tight that it pulled at her brow line.

Today she had added a scarf, so she reminded him of nothing less than a burgher's wife gleaning wheat sheaves from the fields.

No, he amended to himself, she was prettier than any burgher's wife could even think of being, scarf or no.

She was packing small articles from the sitting room into the open trunk. In spite of a bit of a chill, spring was in the air and the windows were open. Colin didn't wait for her to invite him to sit. He knew she wouldn't. He pulled up a chair by the trunk and seated himself."I'm very busy," she said pointedly."I won't disturb you. In fact, I'll help." He picked up a porcelain shepherdess from a side table and offered it to her."Some sorts of help one doesn't need," she answered, but she took the figurine from him."What nonsense. Everyone needs help."Wrapping the figure in a soft rag, she murmured, "I'd like to help you out. The door, that is," she added so he could not mistake her intentions.

"You are prickly this morning. You must not have slept well."

Her glance flew to his in alarm, as if she was afraid he knew something she did not want him to know.

"What?" he asked.

She frowned and dropped her gaze to the task at hand. "Nothing."

Colin rested his elbows on his knees. "Well, it must have been something. You looked as if I had read

your mind."

"It was nothing," she said with the right amount of testiness, and he knew she lied.

"Did you dream about me?"

The rag-wrapped figurine slipped from her hand into the trunk. There was a small, foreboding breaking

sound. With a soft cry, she pulled the shepherdess back out and unwrapped it.

"I broke the staff." She raised distressed eyes to Colin. "It's Covey's. Her husband gave it to her as awedding gift. She's always doted on it."At that moment, there was a sound in the hall, and then Mrs. Covington appeared. She wore one of her lace caps and an apron with a streak of dust, a sign she had also been packing. "Bridget said we had

company," she said pleasantly. "How good it is to see you again, Colonel."Colin came to his feet and made a small bow. "Thank you, Mrs. Covington. I don't know if you will beso happy once you know what I've done." Colin didn't know why he was taking the blame, but it feltright. "I broke this shepherdess piece." He swooped the porcelain out of Lady Rosalyn's hands.

"I broke her little crook," he said, walking up to the older woman.

Mrs. Covington took the figurine out of his hands and, taking a moment to reach into her apron pocket and put her spectacles on the end of her nose, she inspected the damage. Her fingers trembled as they lightly touched the beloved item. "It's not such a bad break." She drew a breath and said, "Perhaps it can be repaired."

"Yes," he agreed.

She smiled, but the expression didn't reach her watery eyes. She handed the shepherdess back to him. "On another thought, perhaps she should stay here. Alfred gave her to me when we first moved in to Maiden Hill. We barely had a shilling to our name, and he knew I'd secretly coveted this piece, which set in Highson's shop. I was so surprised by the present." Mrs. Covington walked over to set the figure back on the mantel. "Here, this is her home. Perhaps she should stay? You would not mind, would you, Colonel Mandland?"

"I'd be honored," Colin said, knowing without looking that Mrs. Covington's words were like darts to Lady Rosalyn's heart. He looked back at her and was surprised to see he was wrong.

She sat unmoving by the trunk, but her face carried no expression. No regret, no sadness, no emotional turbulence of any sort.

And yet he knew she felt keenly.

Lady Rosalyn rose. "How kind of you, sir," she said quietly. "Covey, I must help Bridget. Would you be so kind as to entertain our guest."

She didn't wait for an answer but walked out of the room as if her knees were frozen.

There was a beat of silence, then Mrs. Covington said, "My lady broke the figurine."